This is your home now.
He’d said it so casually, as if conveying a statement of fact, not an option to be questioned. What if his words and use of magic on Ursula were all a subtle display of power, meant to assert his authority over her? But if all she’d seen was what he’d wanted her to see, then everything about him could be a lie just as easily as the truth. There was no way to know. She might be perfectly safe, an honored guest. Or she might be a prisoner. She decided not to wait around to find out.
Quietly, she packed her essentials, leaving behind her suitcase and all the new things Ursula had bought her, even the diamond necklace. Then she put on the jeans and tennis shoes she’d brought, just in case. Crawling into bed, she pretended to sleep while really watching the clock slowly count down the hours. Around one, she thought she heard the moans again but couldn’t be sure. A wind had come up and it looked like it would rain. At two, she slid out of bed and cast a spell to silence her movements, then made her way stealthily down a back staircase. Her plan was to creep out the back door, find her car, and speed away before someone could stop her. She tried not to think about the magical protections John Faust had mentioned. Hopefully she could detect them early enough to avoid or bypass them. With that in mind, she focused on the terrain before her with both mundane and magical sense.
Thus she was taken completely by surprise when, in the process of fumbling with the back door lock, the hall was suddenly flooded with light. Lily spun around, almost dropping her shoulder bag as she faced down a fully dressed and very much awake John Faust LeFay.
“Going somewhere?” he asked, eyes glittering with something Lily could not name, but that sent chills down her spine.
She was caught.
4
Sins of the Father
“I wouldn’t advise opening that door. The alarm is truly earsplitting.” John Faust said conversationally as he eyed her defensive stance with her back to the door.
Lily straightened, lifting her chin high and gathering what courage she had. “I’m going home,” she said.
He spread his arms wide. “But you’re already home.”
“I mean my home. Where I live. Where my possessions reside.”
“I can have them retrieved in the morning. The northeast bedroom will do nicely, don’t you think? It’s closest to the library. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” He smiled.
Lily stared at him, openmouthed. “You don’t get it, do you? I appreciate everything you’ve done, your hospitality, the food, the information. But I’m not going to uproot myself and move in with someone I’ve known a mere three days. I have my own life. It’s mine and I like it. I’m sure we’ll have plenty of time to get to know one another later. Right now I need to go home.”
Folding his hands in front of him, John Faust nodded sympathetically. “I understand. Ursula can be rather...pushy,” he said, taking small, casual steps toward her. “But as I told you before, all you need is to learn to say no. There’s no need to run. Cowards run; weaklings can’t face their problems. But LeFays...we know how to get what we want. You are a LeFay and you simply need to realize that this is where you belong.” He was in front of her now, staring her down with his intense gaze.
Unconsciously, Lily tried to step back, anything to put more distance between herself and her father. But her back met the hard wood of the door and she flattened herself against it, looking away. John Faust was radiating power like a small sun. The effect was overwhelming, making her short of breath. Her heart pounded and adrenaline rushed through her body, singing its sweet song of fight or flight. The effect sent her thoughts tumbling as she searched them for a defensive spell that might help. But before she could gather her wits he leaned forward, putting both hands flat on the door, boxing her in on either side.
She tried to speak, voice coming out barely above a whisper. “I—I’m leaving, Father. Please, just let me go. You’re frightening me.”
“You are right to be frightened, daughter.” His low voice was smooth as silk. “But if you obey me, then I am the only thing in the world you ever need fear. I can make you more powerful than any other wizard. Together we will shape the world into a better place for all our kind.”
Against her better judgment, she raised her head, gazing into his eyes a mere foot from her own. His words stirred something deep inside her that she couldn’t explain. A nameless fear, or was it a thrill of desire? For knowledge, for power, for belonging. Those eyes were so deep, bottomless pits of knowing. She felt a part of herself fading, falling. Who was Lily Singer?
Too late, she realized what he was doing and tried to come back to herself, to struggle. But by then his hands were already on her temples and he was murmuring powerful words that sent her into soft oblivion. The last thing she heard was his voice. “Sleep, Lilith, my child. I let your mother slip through my fingers. I won’t make the same mistake with you.”
* * *
She was floating, unattached. For a long while she did nothing, having no thought or desire beyond simple existence. Slowly, she became aware of things happening outside her warm bubble. Yet when she tried to move, her body was unresponsive, as if she were simply an observer on the sidelines. Part of her wanted to fight, but every time she tried, an overwhelming desire to sleep distracted her, and she lost track of time.
Finally, she stopped struggling and simply watched. Grey walls filled her vision, broken only by a bare wooden floor and a padlocked door at the far end of the room. Beneath her, she felt a narrow bed. Every so often John Faust would enter and gently lift her head, feeding her soup or helping her drink water. Once when he was leaving, Fletcher, the butler, met him at the doorway to take the dishes he held. She watched as they stood, conversing in low tones. Unable to raise her head to hear better, she caught only snippets of their conversation.
“...not decent—”
“...do as you’re told...head of this house...”
“...her mother...never wanted...”
“No harm...not concern yourself...”
Soon the butler left, though not without casting a pitying glance her way.
Eventually, the room grew dark and John Faust no longer came. Time passed—she had no idea how much. She drifted from sleep to wakefulness and back again, dreams blurring the lines between the two. At one point she heard, quite distinctly, a low moaning. It sounded as if it came from the door, or beyond it, perhaps from a room across from her. But was she dreaming? Or was this wakefulness?
Another time, she heard scratching at the door, as if an animal were clawing the wood. When the scratching stopped, there was a faint sound, so low she could barely hear it. It could have been a meow, but she’d thought she’d heard words, too. It didn’t make sense. Thoughts, perceptions, and dreams continued to intermingle until she finally slipped deep into true sleep.
* * *
A dull pain throbbing in her wrists, ankles, and around her neck woke her. Trying to shake off the drunken feeling of heavy slumber, she found she could move once again and sat up on her bed. When she swung her legs to the floor, they felt strangely heavy. Noting the door to her room—cell, more like—was shut and locked, she looked down to see thick iron bands encircling her wrists. They were on her ankles, too, and when she raised her hand to her throat she touched iron there as well. At the touch, her fingers went numb, then started to throb as hot pins and needles prickled across her sensitive pads. Everywhere the iron touched felt as if it had been submerged in ice-cold water, grown numb, then had hot water poured over it. The combination of numb throbbing and fiery ache was painfully distracting, though not so bad she couldn’t stand. Wobbling uncertainly, she stumbled to the door and pounded on it, yelling for someone, anyone, to come. Though she had no clock, it felt like morning, late enough that light filtered in through the small, high windows over her bed, but early enough that nobody seemed to be up.
After yelling long enough to go hoarse, she gave up and slumped down against the wall by the door. There was no way to
know for sure, but she suspected she was in one of the rooms by her father’s workshop. This room gave her the same sense of unease and foreboding. Strangely, though, she had a hard time discerning the wards that should have been surrounding her. It felt as if she were trying to read Braille through a heavy wool blanket. Her magical sense was dulled and indistinct.
Well, if she were still at the LeFay estate, then there were constructs here. Perhaps they would help. She opened her mouth to speak the summoning spell but stopped, puzzled. She couldn’t access the Source. Whereas it usually leapt at her slightest command, bubbling forth eagerly, now she could barely feel it at all. Something was suppressing her senses, getting in between her and her power. Concentrating, she bore down, trying by sheer willpower to break through. She finally felt a tiny trickle, but it was too feeble to fuel even the simplest of spells.
Panting from the effort, she leaned her head back against the wall and tried to collect her thoughts, refusing to give in to panic. Being in Pitts had been bad enough. There, she’d been able to access her magic but was afraid to use it lest it backfire in the unstable time loop. Here, she was flat-out cut off. Crippled. Hobbled like a horse who wanted to run. Never since she’d first learned she was a wizard had she been cut off from that glow of energy that lived inside, warming her soul. Gritting teeth against the growing pain in her extremities, she wrapped her arms around herself, shivering from the cold that slowly crept into her bones.
That was where John Faust found her when he finally came. He opened the door cautiously at first, then more quickly when he saw her on the floor. Concern flitted across his proud features as he bent toward her. “Lilith, whatever are you doing on the fl—”
“Get away from me!” she cried, half in pain and half in anger as she scrambled backward out of reach.
“Now, Lilith—”
“That’s not my name!” she yelled, louder. All the anger and fear suppressed by his controlling spell came to the fore in a rush. She pushed to her feet, wincing in pain, and put the bed at her back. Raising her fists in a menacing stance, she glared at her father. Despite the bravado, she had no idea what to do should he approach. She’d never hit anyone in her life beyond a few warning swats at her stepsiblings when they were being particularly annoying. She was a scholar, for goodness’ sake, not a fighter. But the temper she’d inherited from her mother was making another appearance. Backed into a corner, with no other recourse, she wouldn’t go down without a fight.
John Faust must have found her defiance amusing, because a fond smile touched his lips, briefly smoothing his creased brow as he slowly approached. “You look so like your mother when you get stubborn. I loved her fire, and the challenge of controlling it. I always brought her around, in the end. Nothing can withstand logic, dearest, and I implore you to see reason.”
He’d finally come within arms length, and Lily took an inexpert swipe at him, slowed by the heavy band around her wrist. John Faust easily sidestepped her blow, catching her wrist and pulling her toward him, his grip as strong and inexorable as the iron slowly burning into her skin. Though she tried to pull away, he got hold of her other wrist and gently drew her even closer, wrapping his arms around her in a tight embrace that pinned her wrists behind her back.
She struggled, but he was unmovable: a mountain of solid stone. Inhaling to yell for help—why, she didn’t know; who was there to hear? —she caught the scent of sandalwood and smoke on her father’s clothes. It brought back half-formed memories, so dim and ethereal she couldn’t even be sure what they were, except the vague feeling of warmth and safety.
The fight went out of her as quickly as it had come. Exhausted and in pain, she surrendered to the embrace, turning her face to nestle against the crook of his neck. A flood of emotions overwhelmed her and, mortified, she began to weep. Tears ran down her cheeks to stain his expensive shirt. She felt like a little girl again. All she wanted was a father who loved her and took care of her. Was that too much to ask? Why couldn’t he just hug her and make everything better? Why couldn’t things be like she’d dreamed in her childhood, her family happy and together?
“Hush, child. There’s no need to cry.” He released her wrists and wrapped his arms fully around her, holding her tight. Despite having her hands free, she didn’t resist. What could she do? She was weak and without magic.
“Why are you doing this?” she sobbed softly into his shirt, wanting desperately to understand, wanting her father to be kind instead of dangerous, understanding instead of controlling.
“It’s for your own good, darling, I promise,” he said into her hair. She felt his lips press briefly against her forehead, and her insides twisted in agony at the bittersweet counterpoint between his tenderness and brutality. “This is where you belong. These unpleasant measures are an unfortunate necessity until you come to accept that. We have much to do, and I can’t let you go, not even for a moment. Twenty-three years have been wasted already. I can’t waste any more.”
“But it hurts,” she said, barely suppressing a gasp of pain as he pulled back to look at her, his movement shifting the iron shackles that abraded her skin.
His brow wrinkled once more, face filling with concern and confusion. “What hurts? The iron simply suppresses magic, it should cause no pain.”
“My skin is on fire. Look.” She pulled back further and he let go, taking the wrist she offered and examining the skin beneath the band. It was raw and inflamed, as if the iron bands had been chafing her wrists for weeks, not a few hours.
“Interesting,” he murmured, moving to examine her neck and ankles as well.
“What?” Lily asked, trying not to sound as angry as she felt. There was no point in physical resistance, not unless she had a clear path of escape. Her brain was her best weapon now, and John Faust would drop his guard only if he thought she were properly cowed and obedient.
“Hmm, reaction to the wrought iron is consistent with historical accounts. Very interesting, though not completely unexpected, not with our lineage.”
“What are you talking about?” she asked again, shifting restlessly. He seemed to have forgotten she was there, more concerned with his observations than her wellbeing.
“It is good news,” he finally replied, taking her elbow to steer her toward the bed. She resisted briefly, but only out of pure instinct. “Please, sit,” he encouraged, “we have much to discuss.”
Once she’d sat down, he abruptly turned and disappeared out the door, locking it behind him—much to Lily’s disappointment. He reappeared barely a minute later, carrying a small vial filled with dark purple liquid. “Drink this, it should dull the pain. I regret I cannot remove the iron until I am certain you’ve come around. I’m sure you understand.”
She wanted to scream that, no, she didn’t. But instead, she drained the vial, swallowing the bitter liquid and trying not to grimace as it burned a fiery trail down her throat. Almost instantly, however, the throbbing pain dulled to a whisper, and she relaxed in relief.
“There, that’s better.” John Faust smiled, pocketing the now-empty vial. “Hopefully, we won’t have to bother with those restraints for long. You’ll heal quickly as soon as they’re off.”
Lily refused to look at him, staring at the floor in silence.
Her father sighed. “Give it time, Lilith. You’ll come around. Now, we have plenty of work to do, but first I need to know. What happened at the Clay museum? The police reports are rubbish, of course, and my agent seems to have disappeared. Since you were there, valiantly defending the tablet, I’m eager to know how it happened. What magic did you use? Did you defeat my agent? How was the Blackwell boy involved?”
A cold dread washed through Lily but she kept her gaze on the floor, hoping to hide the dismay marching across her features. Sebastian had been right. Of course he’d been right. Hot shame quickly replaced the dread as she realized her friends had been correct to warn her, but she’d been too blinded by curiosity to care. She’d alienated and hurt them when their on
ly crime had been concern. Had she even learned any truth for all her trouble? Beyond knowing deep in her bones that John Faust was indeed her father, nothing else he’d said could be trusted. Had her mother really become afraid of magic? Or had she run away to protect herself and her daughter from a controlling megalomaniac? Had her mother sat in this very cell, years ago, plotting her escape?
John Faust remained silent, probably assuming Lily was considering her reply when in reality her mind was miles away. But when she still didn’t speak, he put an encouraging hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright, daughter. You needn’t worry. That job was only a test. I wanted to see how you would react to such a situation, whether you would run and hide or stand and fight. You made me very proud. I only wish to know the details.”
“A woman died, Father! Died!” Lily burst out, jerking away from his touch and glaring up into his face. “We all almost died because your cursed agent summoned a greater demon. How could you gamble with people’s lives like that? You’re insane. You don’t care about anyone or anything but your stupid plans, and I’ll have no part of them.”
Angry, she stood, moving to the far side of the cell and turning her back on him. She’d meant to play it cool, to go along and seem complacent, then slip away at the first opportunity. But she was too furious. At herself for her stubborn blindness, at her father for being a conniving, deceitful bastard. His betrayal hurt far more than it should, having known him for only a handful of days. Perhaps it was because she’d had such high hopes. Perhaps she’d projected too much of her own need on him, only to have it brutally slashed to pieces by his matter-of-fact unconcern.
Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Revelations Page 20