by Ashley Meira
“Your father put all those things in your mother’s lab.”
“The lab still exists?”
“Mhm.” She nodded, dropping her voice and leaning closer to me before continuing. “Her things have been untouched all these years. Even in your father’s room, her clothes are still there. I asked him where he wanted me to put them once they were washed, and he told me to just put them back where I’d found them. He really misses her.”
If she’d said that to me last week, I’d have blown her off. Now, as I stirred cream into my coffee, all I felt was the same deep ache I always felt when I thought of my mother, except this time it was amplified by a factor of ten. When I was younger – like, from the ages of four to last week – I assumed my dad was cold because he was mad at my mother, and by extension, me. Youthful naiveté turned bitter self-centeredness didn’t let me consider that maybe he acted that way because he was hurting, too. Rack up another point on my bitch tally, I guess. Actually, make it two points.
“What was she like?” I asked in a soft voice, the caramel tone of my coffee suddenly the most interesting thing in the world.
“Lady Wallace was… soft,” the woman said after some thought. “And graceful, like a swan. Her nose was always buried in a book. Even after you were born, she’d lug you around and read aloud from whatever book she was currently reading.” She wore a conspiring smile when she added, “I’m pretty sure you knew more about the nesting patterns of Scandinavian dragons than any other four-year-old.”
“Except maybe four-year-old Scandinavian dragons,” I grinned. It faded when I began to wonder if that was what my clearest memory of her – the dragons forming in her palm – was about.
“She was very kind, too,” the woman continued. “Always had a nice word and warm smile for everyone. Brewed potions for my morning sickness when I was pregnant.” Her face fell at the end. “Until she disappeared, anyway.”
Leaning forward, I asked, “Do you remember what happened?”
“I’m sorry, Miss–”
“Just Morgan.”
The sad expression didn’t leave her as she nodded. “Your mother just vanished. I remember her leaving your room late that night. Then, when I woke up the next morning, she was gone. Your father tried to play it off, but it soon became clear he was as in the dark as we were. I’m sorry, that’s all I know.”
My stomach felt, and looked, bloated, but I wasn’t one to let common sense dictate…well, anything. In this case, it wasn’t going to stop me from eating until I hurled. It’s only an emotional problem if food can’t fix it, and food only fails if you stop eating.
“I don’t remember if you gave birth before I left,” I said, trying to veer onto happier topics.
“No,” she said, her expression lifting. Score. “Madeline was born a few months after you left. She started her first year of college a few months ago.”
I nodded along as she gave more details about her daughter, pride shining through with every word. It made me wonder about my own mother. Would she have spoken about my accomplishments with that much pride? Has she been keeping up with my life? Was she even still alive?
Pouring myself another cup of coffee, I tried to focus on the woman’s – whose name I really needed to learn – words, but the talk of daughters eventually brought me to Wright. He said his daughter had just started law school. I wonder if she’d gotten the news about her father yet.
Despite Alex saying we’d be able to question him later, Wright ended up dying in the ambulance. The paramedics tried but were unable to bring him back once he flatlined. Regret gnawed at me for that. If I’d been more powerful, maybe I could’ve done a better job of healing him. I acted recklessly, running around for two days like I was on meth. And when it came time to put up or shut up, I was mute. If I had been smarter, I would have been at full strength and healing Wright wouldn’t have been a problem. If I’d been stronger and smarter and fucking psychic and… If, if, if.
I wasn’t happy with “ifs” and uncertainty. I needed to know now, to be stronger now – to blast everything away until I got my way. I needed to see it, needed it all laid out at my feet. Some people could handle wallowing in the darkness, but not me. I’d blast the space full of firelight in less than a second. It was like a thirst I couldn’t quench, which admittedly, scared me sometimes. Was this normal? It made me feel like a demon hungering for power. Except in my case, it wasn’t power I was after – it was knowledge.
Not that I’d say no to more power.
“Rosa!” a voice called from the other room.
Rosa (there was one mystery solved, at least) turned around at the sound, tray of food in hand. “Yes?”
“I need your help in the garden!”
“In a minute, I need to get this food to Sir Wallace!”
“I can do it. I’m going upstairs, anyway. Promise I won’t eat the dessert,” I added with a wink as I took the tray from her.
“Are you sure?” Rosa asked. “I don’t mean to impose–”
“No problem,” I called over my shoulder, already halfway out the room.
“…Dad?” I called, knocking on his door with one knuckle. Thinking it was one thing, but actually speaking the title out loud felt, and sounded, awkward. It was the thought that counted, right?
At his approval, I stepped inside a room I hadn’t seen in eighteen years. Well, that was pretty much every room in this house, but I digress. His room was basically a bigger version of my own. Rosa had been telling the truth: everything looked like it had before I left. I couldn’t speak to the minute details, but looking around reminded me of being a little girl playing with her mother’s makeup.
I looked over the bottles on her vanity with a fond smile. Not a speck of dust on any of them. Even the order looked familiar, though that was almost certainly wishful nostalgia kicking in. One thing I knew for sure hadn’t been moved was the wooden picture frame in the corner. It held a photo of us: my father had an arm around my mother, wearing a smile I hadn’t seen since she left while she leaned against him, her arms holding up a chubby cheeked baby. We look so happy… I wonder if there’s a copy of this somewhere.
Dad was propped up against his headboard, looking like the sullen child I probably resembled when I was forced to do things I didn’t want to do.
“The doctors are being ridiculous,” he said, his voice still thick and raspy. “I do not need any more bed rest. You’ve scanned me – go tell them I’m fine.”
Please, I can’t even convince them to give me drugs. I snorted and rolled my eyes, placing the tray on his lap. Guess the loosened strain in our relationship loosened his lips, too. Unable to resist the urge, I scanned him again to confirm he was in good health, which he was.
“You still need to rest,” I said, trying to find a civil way to word my next statement. “…At your age…”
“I can compete with any man half my age,” he declared, making a move to stand up. I pressed him back. “Bring that boy in and I’ll prove it.”
“Leave Alex out of it,” I said, ignoring how weird it felt to be touching him. Y’know, now that he wasn’t covered in blood and I wasn’t crying like a giant baby.
Staple frown in place, he asked, “How is he? His friend was discharged from the hospital and escorted through a portal to the Council yesterday.”
I nodded. “Yeah, Alex was there to say goodbye.”
“And?”
“He didn’t come back until I was asleep and he was still sleeping when I woke up, which is weird because he’s usually awake hours before I am.”
“Suddenly, I’m not so hungry anymore,” he said, poking at his food in a way I refused to admit was similar to me. Right, no reminding him I was sharing a bed with Alex.
That did bring to mind another topic I’d been putting off, though.
“So, Tamlin told me something interesting.”
His fork made a horrible screeching sound against the plate.
Resisting the urge to make about fifty fur
ry and doggy-style jokes was more painful than the bullet through my neck – an event I will never shut up about surviving – but I managed. Call it a personal victory.
“Well, am I pulling double-duty on being an organ donor, or am I off the hook? Because I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t even match with a werewolf.”
“That’s not how organ donations work, Morgan.”
“And now you’re out of a kidney, too,” I said. “Bet you wish that’s how they worked now, huh? Though with the way Tamlin talks about you, he’d probably give you both kidneys. And his liver.”
“That wasn’t how I intended for you to find out.” Dad sighed. “When your mother…left, everything hurt. At first, I thought she’d wandered off into the forests to gather herbs or visit one of the tribes; she used to do that a lot. Normally, she left a note, but I assumed she just forgot.” The wrinkles on his face seemed to multiply, and I reached for his hand almost instinctively. His hand was cold, rough with calluses, but I still held on, giving it a squeeze. “After two days, I contacted the tribes. Nothing. She had always been a free spirit, but I couldn’t understand why she abandoned us. Every time you looked up at me with those eyes – her eyes – and asked me when mommy was coming home, I felt my heart breaking all over again.” The idea to cauterize my tear ducts came back like a metal bat to the face at those words, and I had to semi-swallow my lips to hold the feelings in.
Dad seemed to share my sentiments, and I was polite enough to not mention how misty his eyes got as he cupped my cheek. “You look so much like her. Even back then, every year that passed had you looking more and more like a miniature version of her. Eventually, I couldn’t take it anymore, couldn’t handle being reminded of the woman I love. I knew I wasn’t being a good father; I saw how miserable you were whenever I would pass you by without a second glance. It was cowardly and I’m anything but proud of it. However, Cassandra is – was – a good friend, and I knew she would take good care of you. It was better than keeping you here and ignoring you.”
I swallowed thickly. “Did…did you ever find out more on why she left? Surely your contacts–”
He shook his head. “I looked. Believe me, I looked. Every contact I had, every favor I could call in – it all led nowhere. She covered her tracks perfectly, vanishing like…”
“Magic?”
Dad managed a soft snort that brought a smile to my face. “A few months after Cassandra took you in, Catherine became the shaman of her pack. Her mother, the former shaman, had just passed away. We ended up speaking quite a bit, two lonely people who had lost a person that meant the world to them. Or two people, in my case.”
“You didn’t have to lose me,” I choked out almost inaudibly.
His hand left my cheek to rest over my own. “During Order gatherings, when I saw you across the room, I was awestruck. You seemed to grow so quickly. I kept seeing a growing version of your mother, while picking up some of my own traits in your behavior.” He chuckled. “It was amazing to see how similar we were despite our distance.”
“Guess that solves the nature versus nurture debate.” I wanted to lean against him but didn’t dare breach the invisible wall I’d put up. I wasn’t ready for that, not yet. This was overwhelming enough as it is.
“Well, you also carry a lot of Cassandra in you, so I’d call it a draw.”
“So, you and Catherine are…?” I trailed off, bracing myself for the killing blow.
“Two people who were sad and lonely that ended up–”
I let out a wild rambling of noises that would’ve made the Road Runner proud. “I know we’re doing this whole family fixing thing or whatever, but can we skip the birds and the bees talk? Like, please, seriously, do not finish that sentence or I’ll have to burn this house down.”
“Consider it payback for letting it slip you were sharing a room with the Campbell boy,” he said with a smug chuckle.
“That was an accident.” An obnoxious laugh left me as I realized, “So was Tamlin, I guess.”
“Morgan!”
“Well, was he?” I asked, stifling my laughter.
He pursed his lips and glared at me but didn’t answer. “Tamlin was a surprise, yes, but he is my son, and I love him dearly.”
“And Catherine?”
“A very good friend and confidante.”
“Cool.” I nodded, hoping the relief wasn’t too evident on my face. “I fixed up one family issue and gained another.”
“Tamlin was excited when he heard you coming. He really wanted to meet you.”
“He seemed nice. I think I upset him, though.”
Dad patted my hand. “I’m sure you two can work it out.”
“Sure,” I said. “We’ll do lunch. I’ll take him to the zoo and watch him freak out over the wolves.”
“Don’t do that,” he said flatly.
I rolled my eyes. “It was a joke. Kind of. Now, eat your probably cold soup. I’m going to see if Alex is awake yet.”
I stood up but Dad held onto my hand. “Your first morning here, at breakfast… Some of the things I said may have been misconstrued.”
“It was my fault,” I said. “I took it out of context. Forget about it.”
It was true. Dad didn’t think I was incapable of being a hunter at all. He was just concerned for my safety. Warm, fuzzy feelings ran through me and I made a note to punch a wall later just to rebuild some of my manly pride.
“There is one thing I do want you to keep in mind,” he said with a serious look that immediately put me on guard. “He seems to care for you–”
“Dad,” I groaned. Wow, I can’t believe I had to wait until I was twenty-six to be able to do that.
“And I’m happy that you have someone like that in your life, but don’t forget that both of you are in a very dangerous line of work.”
“Dad, I know.” I held a hand up to stop him. This was the same argument that played itself over and over in my head every time I thought about moving our relationship forward; I really didn’t want to face it again. In fact, I’ve been doing a good job blocking it out completely. “I understand the risks, and committing isn’t something I’ve done, like, ever. I mean, I’m trying but…”
I shattered my wall, collapsing forward with a sigh and resting my head on his shoulder. He stiffened for a second before wrapping an arm around me.
“I had the same doubts when I met your mother,” he said against my hair.
“Dad?”
“Hm?”
“I love you,” I mumbled into his shoulder, glad he couldn’t see my reddened face. Public admissions of affection were my kryptonite.
I didn’t miss the way he trembled as he pressed a kiss to my temple. “I love you, too.”
19
Comfort and joy were words I had long ago stopped associating with my childhood home, but now, curled up with Alex in the guest room’s twin-sized bed… I couldn’t think of any other words to describe it.
I had snuck into his arms and was just enjoying the closeness. He was still asleep when I returned, which wasn’t surprising – I stayed up pretty late waiting for him to come back, and he only returned after I’d dozed off. The sharp smell of booze on his breath told me exactly what he had been off doing. Maybe he ended up at the same inn where I met June. It was near the hospital, after all. I wondered if June was still there. Did she proposition him, too, or did she only go for girls?
I sat up straight at the thought of Alex following her upstairs. It felt hypocritical, but do as I say, not as I do and all that. Especially since I was horrible at making good decisions. Unless the world suddenly fell on its side and running off and doing stupid things when you were pissed became pure genius.
The papers I took from Wright’s safe were on the desk near the fireplace. I got up and grabbed them before sitting criss-crossed in front of the flames. See, sitting near a fire while looking at papers was another one of those things I did that crossed me off the smart list. Despite me staring and willing more information
to come forth, the files didn’t provide anything new.
He was a vampire whom people rarely saw, he had a strange pendant, and a whole lot of nothing more. The only thing that really helped was the name Wright gave me: Lucas – if only because Fake-Corrigan was a mouthful. Dad didn’t know anything more about Lucas, though he did appear physically ill when he saw the photos. I understood how he felt, I almost wet myself when I first saw the infernal vamp. I might be able to find out more about him when I go back to New York. Unlike our furry friends here, vampires tended to congregate toward busy cities, probably for the herds of people; someone may have seen something.
Our scuffle aside, I tried to keep my feelings regarding Lucas professional. I’d been taunted before, and while it annoyed me, it never got in the way of doing my job. Not for long, anyway. But he’d mentioned my mother, called her by name, and the way he looked… I could chalk it up to coincidence, but we all knew how I felt about that.
Sleepy – and very adorable, though I am biased – sounds drifted from the bed as Alex stirred, propping himself up on one hand and running the other through his hair. No matter what the situation or mood, he always managed to look so innocent when he woke up. I took a moment to enjoy the view before turning back to force answers out of pages that had none left to give.
“Morgan?” he called, his voice rough with sleep.
I made a sound in acknowledgment before growling in frustration and gathering up the papers to put away. There was a small roll of brown paper on the desk that I’d missed earlier. It was new, did Alex bring it in last night? From the way he’s clutching his head, I bet he’s nursing one hell of a hangover. I padded back to the bed and placed the roll of paper on the nightstand. His skin was warm when I touched it, rubbing his temples as I sent healing magic through my fingers.
