From the moment I sat down, he looked ready to fight my questions. His stony demeanor, heavy-lidded golden eyes and crossed arms told me that it wasn't going to be easy to get information from him. But I had to know. London's life as a character depended on it.
Despite his stone-faced determination, he wasn't unkind. His was a civilized race, and they prided themselves on that fact. As I sat down across from him, he reached out a hand to me in a familiar gesture requesting a handshake. I returned it almost without thinking, clasping his large dark-skinned hand in my small pale one, and it wasn't until I sat back that I realized how anachronistic it was.
"Caleb Ashkore, called Terrence," he introduced himself in the formal manner typical of his people's society.
"Chelsea Marsh," I replied. "What made you shake my hand like that?"
He paused and looked at me curiously for a moment, then said, "I knew that you wou