by Sabra Kay
I shook my head.
“She was a sweet woman. Did you know she was a student of your Father's?” She looked down her nose at me when she said that, giving me a pointed look, so there would be no mistake she was revealing an unflattering truth about my old man.
Joke was on her, though. I already knew my Father was an asshole. Marrying a student was an asshole move. It fit.
“No. I didn't.” I'd asked a couple times how they met, but my Father had never told me. When I was young, I’d constantly asked questions about my Mother. His answers had been brief, if he answered at all. Eventually, I’d stopped asking.
“She was one of the most powerful Nephilim I've met to date.”
“I heard that from Jedediah.”
It was true. He'd gone on at length about how powerful she was. She was beautiful. She was smart. She had a tremendous amount of magnetism, and charm, and powers of influence. She had powerful psychic abilities. Her physical strength was unmatched, and who knew what else she could do.
“Yes. Well, she was exceptional. I met her on several occasions before she died.”
“Murdered. Before she was murdered.”
She studied my face for a moment before turning to the window.
She folded her hands and once again closed her eyes. “Now that you've started digging, I doubt you'll stop.”
“That's right.”
“You're digging in the wrong place.” She stood up and moved toward the door. “Have a good day, Grace. It's been nice talking to you.”
“Wait, no. You aren't telling me the truth.”
She opened the door. “I am telling you the truth. I’ve told you no lies, today.”
“Why don't you like me, Ayana?”
“You're dangerous, Grace. Liking you has nothing to do with it.”
I left Ayana's office feeling defeated and insulted, but I had no time to waste stewing. I would get the answers eventually. I had to. Next stop, my Father's office, and lab. It was just after 9:00 a.m., and if he wasn't already in a lecture, he would be in his office.
I decided not to call first. I wasn't sure what I was going to lead with. I wasn't due for my injection, and I never visited my Father for any reason unless it was required. What I was doing felt impulsive and not very well thought out, but I needed answers.
***
“Hello Grace,” he said, without looking up as I arrived. “You may sit.”
I sat down in the chair across from him. He sat, too, taking off his glasses, rubbing his eyes, then folding his hands neatly in front of him. He regarded me with a weary, knowing expression.
“Hi.” I returned.
I didn't even know where to start. I had so much anger and confusion whirling around in my head, but when confronted with him, I shrank. My Father had never disciplined me. Never yelled or lost his temper, never raised a hand to me. Yet, I had always been frightened of him. At best, uncomfortable. He had never played with me, never held me, and never told me he loved me. Ever.
“You're hurt.” The statement was flat, a mere observation.
I gingerly rubbed my bruised, scraped face. If I thought about it, I was in a great deal of pain. I decided I better stop thinking about it.
“I'm fine.”
“I hear the girl was kidnapped on your watch.”
I rolled my eyes. “We're not doing this. I won't sit here and let you rake me over the coals. I need to talk to you and the doctor.”
“Beth is on leave now, but I'd be happy to discuss your concerns. I have a little time before my next lecture.”
In all the years I'd known Dr. Beth Page, she'd never been on leave. That was strange.
“I need some answers.”
“What are the questions?”
“Is it possible for nephilim to have the power to ignite?”
He studied me for a moment then looked away, tapping his pen. “No, Grace. It's not.”
I inhaled. “Did my Mother have telekinetic abilities?”
“Yes. She did.”
“What is in the injections you've been giving me?”
“I've told you before. It's a cocktail of stem cells and medications to help you with dizziness, anxiety, and increase your overall well-being.”
“Bullshit.”
“What are you getting at Grace? What do you want?” He looked at his watch, impatiently.
“Does Seraphina have telekinetic abilities?”
“Well, I would think she'd use them against her abductors if she did.” He seemed taken aback by the question. “Why do you ask about her? Did she display anything during the abduction?” He leaned forward, suddenly eager.
“She's a child. I'll ask again, does she have any abilities that you know of?”
He sat up and put his glasses back on. “Grace, I don't know how this is relevant. She's no longer my student. First-year students are given a full evaluation of abilities, but Ethan and Rachael pulled her out before I could perform the tests. I really don't know what her capabilities are.” His tone switched from eager to dismissive and guarded.
He's hiding something.
“And what about mine?”
His eyes narrowed. “I've told you a dozen times at least. You've shown no remarkable powers. Period.”
“Yes, you hammered that message into me from childhood. But it's bullshit. I have telekinetic powers. I used them last night. Now tell me the truth, what is in those injections?”
A few moments went by while he considered his answer. The truth or a lie, which would it be?
“You say you 'used' your powers. What, specifically were they? How do you know it was you using them?”
“I know. I sent a man into a wall like it was nothing. Broke his neck. I know I at least can do that. At least.” I looked him in the eye, daring him to deny me again.
He didn't, though. He shrugged. “Fine. You have telekinetic abilities.”
I was shocked. Not shocked because I was right, but because he was honest. And so matter of fact.
“I'm going to ask you one more time, what is in those injections?”
He sighed and rubbed his eyes.
“Tell me, William. I need to know what is happening to me. Because something is definitely happening to me. What have you been shooting me up with all these years?”
“The doctor and I developed a drug that blocks the discharge of telekinetic power and dampens other abilities. There, are you satisfied?”
I was stunned. It hadn’t occurred to me until we’d begun the conversation that the injections had anything to do with my abilities, but it made sense. No, no, it didn't make sense.
“What are you talking about? Why?”
“Medication. To keep you from using your powers and hurting yourself or someone else.”
“Why the hell would you lie to me? Tell me I'm 'unremarkable'?” Why not just tell me the truth?”
He smiled, maddeningly patient.
“Abilities are, in part, psychological. It's simple. If you believe you have no abilities, you won't spend time working on them or practicing them. A child who knows he or she can move objects at will is going to sit around all day trying to move objects. I didn't want you to do that. And you didn't.”
“Until now. I guess your experimental drug stopped working on me.”
“I suppose you're right.”
“I've been a lab rat this whole time, after all.”
My father shook his head. “I've done what I've done to protect you, to protect the nephilim.”
“Oh? How?”
“Do you know what happens to nephilim who are too powerful?” He didn’t wait for my answer. “They disappear.”
“Is that what happened to my Mother?”
“No.” He shifted in his seat and looked to the side, avoiding eye contact. “Perhaps”
“Is that what happened to Sera?”
He looked away. There was something there, some truth to it.
“You said a cambion took her. That's what you told Miles.�
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“Yes, specifically, Billy Blaine's bastard son. I don't know why they took her, but I know Blaine is a maniac, and his cult have been on a burning, sacrificing rampage that the CDT has done diddly-shit about.”
He looked at me again like I was a stupid child. “Grace, you don't know what the CDT is doing. You are barely working with them. You know nothing of their inner workings, of what they are investigating. Trust me. They know what Blaine is up to. Let them do their job.”
“What about side effects?” I asked. We were getting off track.
“Excuse me?”
“Side effects? Of the drugs you've been shooting me up with?”
He looked down at his desk and worked his jaw a little before answering. “The medication reduces dopamine levels and can cause depression, low energy, and a lack of motivation. Fatigue. Stomach problems. Dizziness.”
“Are you fucking kidding me? Dizziness? Depression? Lack of motivation? Unbelievable.”
I sat back in my chair and rubbed my temples. At least he’d copped to me having powers and admitted the real purpose behind the injections.
And you believe him? That he would give up the truth so easily, so quickly? There are things he's not telling you. Important things.
“Was there more, Grace? I've got to get going. I trust you're satisfied with the answers I've given you.”
“Not yet.”
He sighed, and an edge crept into the tone of his voice. “What else, Grace?”
“What about Sera?”
He looked at me for a moment and started, as though he wanted to say something, but changed his mind,
“I hope they find her. Now, if you'll excuse me. I'm—" He stood and grabbed his coat and briefcase, as well as his laptop. “—leaving for a conference. I really do hope Miles does his job and finds Sera. Feel free to keep me updated.”
“A conference? Are you serious?”
“Yes. I'm quite serious. I've had this planned for some time. I'm not going to cancel it because Ethan was irresponsible. He should never have left his daughter in the care of two incompetents. Better yet, he should have kept her here. No demon spawn would dare set foot on these grounds.”
I jumped up and stood in the doorway, blocking his exit.
“Father, if you know something, you need to tell me. Her life is at stake!”
He stood, facing me, and put a hand on my shoulder. I flinched. My father rarely touched me. In fact, I couldn't remember the last time he'd put a hand on me. He wasn't even the one to give me my injections or take my blood. It was always Dr. Page or an assistant.
“Did you hear me, Father? Her life is on the line. The clock is ticking.”
He put a hand on my shoulder, and gently, but firmly pushed me to the side. “The clock is ticking, and it’s not just her life on the line.”
And with that, he left me standing inside his office, alone, as he walked away from me.
***
What else in my life is a lie? All these years, he kept my powers from me and drugged me to suppress my abilities. I’d always believed my father was disappointed because I didn't have any special abilities. Now that I knew the truth, I couldn't help but wonder why?
Why wasn't I good enough for him?
I stood where my father left me, in his office. My eyes wandered to the bookshelves, the file cabinets, the desk. There were no photographs, nothing personal. I closed my eyes and tried to recall a time we'd laughed together, a time when he stopped his work to spend time with me, to take me to get ice cream or play at the park. Never. It had never happened. Any childhood memories I had of that nature were always with someone else's family. Darah's or Ethan's.
Without thinking too much about it, I hit Ethan's number and put the phone up to my ear. I didn't give myself time to be scared. It rang and rang again. I thought about hanging up. Would I leave a voice mail? Just as I hovered my thumb above the red phone icon, he picked up.
“Yeah?”
“Ethan?”
“This is Ethan. What do you want, Grace? Do you have some news for me?” He sounded like he was a million miles away.
“No, Ethan, I don't.”
“So why are you calling me, now? I came home, and Rachael was dead. Sera was missing. And you, you were gone. No explanation, no nothing. Why did I think I could count on you?”
“Ethan, I—"
“No. There's nothing to talk about, Grace. Unless you're calling with news about my daughter, don't bother.”
He hung up. I stared at the phone in my hand. A gnawing realization clawed at my gut. I'd really fucked this one up, and not just because I couldn't protect Sera. Maybe there was nothing I could have done. That wasn't my failure. So many things weren't. But my actions, my lack of self-control, my drinking… all of that was my failure. Or maybe just not being honest about it. Not asking for help. Maybe Ayana was right. Maybe the job wasn't for me. Maybe I'd allowed my hatred and resentment to cloud my judgment and turn me into someone I wasn't.
Then again, who was I?
Chapter Twelve
I drove back to the Grove in a daze. Bits of both conversations mingled together in my head, Ayana's words, then my father's. Rage brewed in the pit of my stomach.
You're dangerous, Grace.
I wondered what the hell she had been talking about. Did she know? Was it me who had incinerated the cambion and possessed that night? Or had it been it the cambion trying to defend themselves against me?
On the job, we used charms to defend against the demonic pyrokinetic waves. But I had been unarmed that night. The cambion could have easily incinerated me. What had really happened?
Side effects. Depression? Lack of motivation? I had suffered years of these treatments, and I was the failure? A failure in school. A failure on the job. Unremarkable. Fuck him.
Who else knows about me? Everyone? Chuck? Luz? Miles? Darah?
I parked in the Church lot. I didn't plan on going back to the Grove. Not yet. I would talk to Miles, though. Not because he ordered me to, but because I wanted more answers.
I thought about Sera. She was powerful. I knew it. Did my father know it? Did the cambion know it? Is that why they took her? Blaine's son kidnapping a powerful Nephilim child… What was the end game?
Sacrifice? My stomach lurched. But it didn't seem right. No, there was something else going on.
I parked, slammed my car door shut and entered The Grove through the staff entrance, just like Miles had told me to do. I would be minimally obedient, for now.
I stormed into his office, and Miles looked up from his paperwork, fixing his eyes on me. Gone was any warmth he'd shown me previously. He was all business, and I could tell he wasn't pleased.
“Sit.”
“I'm not a dog, Miles.”
He crunched his paperwork in his hands, crinkling the paper as he spoke, “you know, I should throw you in a cell for your blatant insubordination. You went to my wife? After I specifically told you to stay put? What the hell were you thinking, Gamble?”
“What the hell are you thinking, Miles? And why aren't you out there looking for Sera?”
“Excuse me? Are you drunk? Are you out of your mind?” He sputtered, slapping his paperwork down in front of him.
“No, I'm not drunk or out of my mind. In fact, I'm thinking quite clearly. And yes, I did go talk to your wife. Because she's been withholding information from me, just like my father, and I'm willing to bet just like you.” I tapped my finger on his desk, right on his stack of nonsense paperwork. “Now, are you going to go all tight-lipped on me, or are you gonna fill me in on what the hell has been going on?”
The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could reign them in. I was fuming.
“I don't know what you're getting at, Gamble, but I'm getting real ti—”
“No. I'm getting tired. Tired of things being done to me I didn't agree to and tired of information being withheld from me, information that pertains to me, to my body, and to my capabilities. Now, tell me you
don't know what the fuck I'm talking about. Go ahead.”
I straightened myself, planting my feet firmly, staring directly into his eyes, willing him to tell me everything he was hiding from me. Everything they were hiding from me.
He stared at me, but the fight was gone from his eyes. He drummed his fingers on the edge of his desk, and I noticed the faint crease between his eyebrows. He's nervous. Is he worried I might do something? The idea that he might actually be afraid of me was exhilarating. I felt warmth, not the fire of rage, but a pleasing warmth spread through my insides.
It was a vibrating, soothing, but unmistakably powerful feeling. I liked it. I wanted more.
“Why are you smiling, Gamble?” He attempted a stern tone, but it was too late for that. I had the upper hand, now.
“I want you to tell me everything you know. Now.” I spoke quietly.
He regarded me, inhaling audibly through his nose, then exhaling slowly. Without warning, he clapped his hands together, his expression morphing from concerned to... amused? Smug?
“Sure. Why not? Let's get it all out in the open, Gamble. You might be sorry you asked, though.”
“What's that supposed to mean?”
“Do you remember our last conversation?”
I nodded. “Yeah, it didn't make a whole lot of sense.”
“Hmm. Well, I asked you some questions. We talked about good and evil. I told you I was more interested in outcomes than the intricacies of good and evil.”
“Okay, yeah. Sure.”
“But I'll ask you, again. What is evil?”
I was growing tired of his roundabout bullshit.
“Demons are evil, and so are their cambion spawn. And while I don't think they are really capable of evil the way demons are, angels are assholes who seem to think that wiping nephilim out is a bigger priority than dealing with demons and cambion. It makes no sense. It pisses me off. That's my opinions and understanding, in a nutshell.”
“Have you ever seen an angel execute a nephilim? Or exorcise an inhabitant and rip their soul from this physical plane?”
I shuddered. “No.”
“It's pretty boring, really. You just drop. Life just leaves you, and you're left as an empty husk. Yet, we can't do anything about it. Or at least we choose not to.”