If Dad was such a monster, how could he also be a devoted and loving dad? Because he was. Not to mention, how did my dad release Tercera if he died weeks before the first documented cases? If they knew he created the virus, why didn’t they tell the authorities, and let them dig around for the cure? Something cold snakes up my spine. David Solomon wiped out the United States government, and I saw him shoot my dad. What if he has the cure, and kept it for himself? I need answers, but I also need to tread carefully.
“What about Aunt Anne?” I finally ask. “Are you saying she’s a Carillon, and she knew my dad kidnapped me?”
Josephine sighs and frowns. “Anne loved Donald, probably a little too much. It’s common with twins. She supported everything he did, even bad decisions.”
“You knew her. You think she’d keep a child who wasn’t really her brother’s blood?”
“Donald believed you were his child,” King Solomon says. “He and your mother tried to have children for years with no success. Your mother conceived you within a month of beginning her relationship with me. You are my daughter.”
“You two have lots of other kids too?” I ask. “Do I have brothers? Or maybe a sister?” In the middle of this nightmare, this one thought fills my heart with hope.
“No,” Josephine says. “We haven’t had any others.”
“Then maybe you’re the one who’s infertile,” I say. “Maybe Donovan is my dad. You don’t know.”
King Solomon slaps me across the face and I stumble back a step.
Sam punches King Solomon in the nose, and grabs his arm. He twists it around his back until King Solomon cries out. Guards knock at the door a moment later. “Your Highness? Are you all right?”
“I’m fine,” he calls out tersely. “You aren’t needed.” King Solomon struggles against Sam.
Sam lowers his face to King Solomon’s level. “This is my only warning. If you raise a hand against Ruby again, I’ll kill you. I don’t care whether you’re her dad or not, and I don’t care what your people will do to me. You do not hurt her. I shouldn’t have to tell you that, if you’re her Dad, but here we are. Do you understand?”
King Solomon’s eyes flash and the muscles in his neck tense, but he nods. Sam releases him.
King Solomon brushes his shirt off and shrugs his shoulders a few times. “This has been a lot to take in, for all of us. We’ve known for years and years about you, but seeing you in person. And thanks to Donovan,” he practically spits the name, “you’re just hearing all of this. You probably need some time to sort through it. I shouldn’t have overreacted, but it’s new to me, being a father. We’ll give you as much time and space as you need.”
Blood drips from King Solomon’s nose down to his mouth, and onto his shirt. He wipes his face with his sleeve and winces. It’s enough for now.
“We’re so happy you’re alive.” Josephine’s eyes well with tears again, and she takes a step toward me, arms extended.
I shy away. She may be my mom, but I don’t know her. I don’t want her touching me now, seventeen years too late. And she’s married to this man who orders everyone around and slaps me.
“I’m glad you’re happy.” I don’t know what else to say.
Josephine drops her arms and steps back. “We want to make you happy, too.”
I think about my dad, bleeding on the floor, and I’m not happy. I want to hurt her, like her husband hurt us. She left him, and she left me. She’s been alive all this time, and she never found me. “What if reclaiming my dad’s things, Donovan Behl’s belongings, and leaving with my boyfriend is what will make me happy? Sam’s more than capable of keeping me safe. I have a life and a home and a family already, and you aren’t part of it.”
As much as I’d like to watch my mom’s face, I keep my eyes trained on King Solomon instead. If he has the cure already, he’ll know what I’m here to retrieve.
His face doesn’t show a thing. “Your quick departure would break your mother’s heart, but we wouldn’t stop you if you truly wanted to leave us. Speaking of, why don’t we take you somewhere you can rest.”
Rest. I haven’t truly rested since. . . I don’t know when. Even in the house on the outcropping, before we left Job and— Josephine mentioned they found someone when she came in the room. “Did you find my brother, Job? He’s tall, thin, and has blond hair like mine.”
Josephine raises one eyebrow. “Brother?”
I huff. “Yes, brother. Cousin by blood perhaps, but raised as a brother to me.”
Josephine flinches. “The boy we found is tall and thin with dark blond hair. It’s straight and much darker than yours, but yes. I imagine it’s him.”
I grit my teeth. Even if Job and I don’t share blood, and I’m not convinced we don’t, he’s more my brother than she is my mother. She doesn’t need to point out that Job doesn’t look as much like me as she does. I have eyes.
“We’ll all share one room,” Sam says.
“While I acknowledge she’s only just returned to my life, I’m certainly not allowing my daughter to share a room with her boyfriend.” King Solomon glares at Sam.
Sam counters. “She’s only safe with me.”
“There isn’t a soul at World Peace Now who would harm my daughter.”
“Stop saying that!” I stomp my foot. “I am not your daughter. Sam and Job and I will all share a room. Nothing will happen with my brother in the same room. Even if it did, seeing as how you’re not meeting me until now—my seventeenth birthday—I don’t think it’s your place to dictate where I sleep, even if we do share DNA.”
King Solomon’s nostrils flare. His hands clench and unclench. I don’t know whether my words pissed him off, or the fact that I’m dictating to him. I gather it doesn’t happen often.
Josephine steps near him and touches his arm. She speaks softly. “It’s her birthday. She hasn’t seen us in seventeen years. Give it time.”
“It’s fine for now.” King Solomon opens the door, and I notice the same young, blonde haired guard from before hovers outside. “Adam, take them to the palace and release the other prisoner into Ruby’s care. They’ll share the Blue Room. It has several beds.” He forces a smile. “It was designed for visiting families.”
“It’ll be perfect for my family. Thanks.”
As I leave, I notice a tear trails down Josephine’s cheek. My anger with her dissipates and my heart constricts. I try to imagine how I’d feel if I were her. She found her long lost daughter, and instead of expressing joy, her daughter called her a liar and yelled. No matter what else is true, it seems likely she’s my mother. I close the space between us and pull her against me. Hugging someone else as small as me feels odd, but it’s also reassuring somehow. She smells like peppermint, and I breathe in deeply.
She holds on a moment too long, and I have to shake her a little to escape. Even that diminishes my anger. I’ve never had someone want to hug me so badly that I have to pull away. Isn’t that what a mom’s supposed to do?
This time, when I duck into the doorway, Josephine’s smile brightens the room.
I stumble along behind Sam and Adam in a daze, still processing what happened. My dad went on the run with me, I have a birthmark, and my dad created Tercera. On the other hand, I don’t believe he would’ve released it, and I doubt my dad would steal a child unless he was sure that child was his. He never yelled, he took good care of me, and I know he loved me. Besides, he had his own lab. The answer to my paternity was one genetic test away. Surely he would’ve checked. My aunt and uncle may have lied to me, but they’re some of the best people I know. I really believe the lies they told were to spare me confusion and sadness.
None of what I’ve learned changes that I watched David Solomon shoot my dad. He doesn’t even deny it.
Adam stops in front of a dark van. I glance at Sam, who still has at least two guns. The one he took from a guard, and the one he took from me. Sam checks the van before gesturing for me to enter. Adam doesn’t move to stop any of that.
The van’s clean, shiny, and new. WPN’s either manufacturing new vehicles or maintaining the ones they have extremely well.
The van rolls down the road smoothly. No potholes, large cracks, bumps or other interruptions hinder us. We pass house after house en route to the palace, which is apparently on the other side of the island. They’re all freshly painted. No trash clutters the streets, and the bushes and grass are all neatly trimmed. I don’t notice a single garden, which makes me wonder how all these people are being fed while living on an island.
The van pulls up in front of an enormous white plantation home with eight white pillars, four on either side of the front doors. A stairway almost thirty feet wide leads up from a circular drive. The stairs climb and climb up to massive double front doors that hang open, presumably in anticipation of our arrival. I’m guessing they don’t have a major fly problem this time of year. Two guards stand on either side of the doorway.
Adam climbs out of the van first and comes around to open the door. Sam leaps out and holds out a hand to help me. I don’t take it, because I’m not a princess. I’m perfectly capable of climbing out on my own.
“Please follow me up the stairs, your Majesty,” Adam says.
“No, no, no.” I frown. “Don’t call me that, please.”
“I apologize for my poor behavior earlier. I didn’t realize who you were.” Without his haughty attitude from earlier, he looks no more than twenty.
“I held a gun on your king. I’m still the same person. Don’t call me majesty or highness or princess, okay?”
Sam snorts.
Adam’s eyebrows draw together and his eyes widen alarmingly. “Your Highness, we must—”
“I’m not anyone’s highness,” I say, stopping him. “If I’m not your king’s daughter, then I’m not a princess, and you shouldn’t call me that. And if I am, then you have to listen to me when I tell you not to call me that, right?”
Adam nods stiffly. “We must show respect.”
“Great, because Ruby is a respectable name, and that’s good enough. Just plain old Ruby.”
Adam sighs. “This way your, er, Ruby.”
He walks up the stairs toward the doors and Sam shrugs at me and follows him up. Two guards in front of us bow. I grit my teeth. News travels fast within WPN. I wonder how they conveyed the information so quickly.
The floors of the palace are marble, and the entry way boasts even more columns. A chandelier glints and sparkles over our heads. Adam walks us up to a woman with a fluffy navy dress and a gray apron. “Ruby, this is Alice. She manages the palace and its staff. She’ll show you to the Blue Room.”
Adam bows, turns on his heel and marches out. Alice beams at me. Her almost white hair has been twisted into a tight bun, but her face looks much younger. She’s thin and tall and her eyes light up when she speaks. “It’s such an honor to have you here, your Highness.”
Sam snickers.
I force a smile. “I’d really prefer if everyone would call me Ruby. I’m not majestic, nor am I high. In fact, I’m so short that being called ‘Highness’ feels like an insult.”
Alice’s face falls. “Yes, milady. I’ll call you Ruby, milady.”
Sam turns away to hide his smile. Milady is almost as bad as your majesty. What’s wrong with these people? We follow Alice down a vast hallway with dozens of doors, up a grand staircase, and down another, smaller hall. We finally reach the Blue Room.
I walk through the doorway and look around. A large, upholstered, floral-print sofa sits next to two big, blue, accent chairs. I walk through a side door and find a bathroom that’s bigger than my kitchen back home. Notably, there’s no bed.
“Uh,” I say, “King Solomon told me there were beds in here? As in plural?”
Alice says, “Oh yes, there are, milady. This is the sitting room.”
It should be called the Blue Rooms. She leads us through a door in the back into another room with blue wallpaper, a blue crystal light fixture, and blue carpet. Navy blue curtains hang on a four-poster bed, which fills the center of the room. Smaller twin beds with blue checked bedspreads flank the large one on either side. Job’s sitting on one of the twin beds when we walk into the room.
“Ruby!” He jumps to his feet and runs over to give me a hug. When he pulls away, he’s frowning. “You left me.”
“To be fair, I left Sam too,” I say.
Sam clears his throat. “She came back for me because I’m so awesome.”
I roll my eyes. “Someone shot at me. I ran from that smack into Sam.”
Alice clears her throat. “Is there anything I can fetch for you, milady? Some refreshment perhaps?”
Job’s eyebrows climb his forehead. “Milady?” He looks from Alice to me, and back to Alice. “Who are you talking to?”
“I’m addressing her Majesty, Ruby Solomon.”
Job coughs and coughs, and then starts choking. I have to get her out of here before Job chokes to death.
“We’re good for now. Thanks, Alice.”
Alice bows to me and leaves, closing the door behind her.
“What the hell is going on?” Job asks. “First they act like they’re going to kill me. I’m tied up in a chair with a bright light in my face, and I swear the only thing missing were bamboo shoots under my fingernails. For no reason, a minute later, they bring me to this opulent mansion and plop me down in this room without a guard, or a care in the world. Now that woman’s calling you Ruby Solomon, and curtsying?”
“You missed some stuff.” Sam pulls the curtains to the side and sinks down onto the four-poster bed. “Turns out, King Solomon thinks Ruby’s his kid.”
Job laugh-snorts. “I’m sorry, he thinks what?”
I try to explain. I’m skeptical of the whole story, but Job takes it a little further.
“No way in hell is any of that true.”
I sigh. “The woman sure looks like my mom, from the one photo I have.”
Sam grunts. “She also looks a lot like Ruby.”
Job paces. “Well, that’s certainly conclusive.”
“I’m not an idiot, Job. I know it’s not proof, but she seemed to be as upset as I am, and there’s a lot to corroborate her story.”
Job’s eyes flash. “My parents would not have been fine with Uncle Don kidnapping you, and they wouldn’t have lied about it. Not to you, or me, or the police.”
“Right,” I say, “because Aunt Anne would never, ever lie to me. She’d never conceal, for instance, that my dad engineered Tercera. Or that he developed a cure before his murder.”
“Maybe they didn’t tell you that because you were so young, but do you really think they’d lie about who you are? Do you think you aren’t even my cousin?” Job’s anger falls away and he slumps down on the bed like a puppet with his strings cut. “Do you think we’re not even related?”
“I’m not saying that.”
“What are you saying?” he asks.
“I don’t know what I’m saying.” I collapse on the bed next to Job and drop my face in my hands. “I don’t know up from down, but I know I love you as much as a brother. Maybe more.”
Job pulls me against him. “Are you happy? A little excited that maybe you aren’t an orphan?”
I don’t know what to say, because I am. If it’s true, it means I have a family. Not a borrowed one, but a real family that loves me. I know my dad loved me, but he’s been gone a long time. I wish I knew whether this King Solomon was the villain I believe him to be. Slapping me in the face doesn’t give me much confidence, even if I was questioning my mom’s honor at the time.
“How can we figure out whether they’re telling the truth?” Job asks.
Sam’s voice rises up from where he’s lying on the four poster bed. “What do they stand to gain from lying?”
I can’t think of a single thing.
“Maybe,” Job says, “they know Uncle Don created Tercera, and they need you to find the cure. If they can get you on their side, they’ll finally get it.”
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I lean back against the headboard so it’s easier to talk. “It’s not zero sum. A cure would help everyone. But even if that’s true, why lie about me being their kid? That’s a bizarrely twisted way to go about it. They already had me in a storage room. They could’ve won me over way easier. Plus they didn’t have time to confer. Solomon announced ‘Ruby’s alive’ and they both started explaining. It couldn’t have been fabricated on the spot.”
Sam sits up. “I agree. If it’s a lie, it’s one they both believe. It also explains why WPN’s headquartered in Galveston. If Solomon knew your dad, or you know, Donovan, or Donald. Man, if they’re telling the truth, this is strange. But if Solomon knew Donovan invented Tercera, he might have stayed here to look for anything he could parse together from the research.” His eyebrows draw together. “It might be how they figured out the accelerant WPN used to wipe out the government.”
By all counts, King Solomon’s a sociopathic villain. He can’t be my father, can he?
“Or,” Job says, in a voice so quiet it’s barely more than a whisper, “maybe they stuck around here to look for you.”
This morning I was an orphan. Now I have too many parents to go around. I have no idea what kind of people they are, and I’m beginning to think the same about the man who raised me the first six years of my life.
A knock on the door to the sitting room startles me. I walk out to answer it with Sam on my heels. Josephine stands on the other side. I guess my time to process my feelings has run out.
Chapter 24
“Hello Ruby.” Josephine changed out of her power pantsuit and ditched her pearls. Now she’s wearing a light blue cotton dress with navy birds on it. “I thought you might be hungry.”
My stomach growls and I smile. “Yeah, I guess I am.” Except she didn’t bring any food with her. “Uh, where would the food be?”
“Your father and I thought maybe you’d want to eat a late supper with us?”
I flinch. “Please don’t call that man my father. My dad was smart, funny, kind, and he loved me all the way to Jupiter. He told me every single night after he brushed my teeth, read me Green Eggs and Ham, and tucked me in. If you want me to spend any time here, you have to stop referring to David Solomon as my father. I watched him shoot Donovan Behl. He may be my biological parent, but he will never, ever be my dad.”
Marked (Sins of Our Ancestors Book 1) Page 24
