Lily shrugged, a clear sign that she didn’t care if I told Wren what had happened. Frankly, I needed to tell someone. I had bottled it up in my brain for too long.
“She had her head in the line of fire of a shotgun and didn’t get a scratch. Not one. Not even a singed hair on her head. I think the detective tried to flashy thing my brain, but it didn’t work. I don’t know why.”
“I didn’t,” Lily said. “I didn’t care that you knew.”
“Hold the hell up,” Dre said. “What the what is going on here? I thought we were trying to figure out how to keep me and my brother together and then we’re talking about Men in Black while that detective is playing Olympic torch. Help?”
The room was basically frozen in time. There was an odd silence in the air and in some ways, I wanted to run. In others, I wanted to sit down and buckle in and listen to this whole damn thing.
From the woman who survived—no, was completely unaffected by a shotgun blast to the face.
I leaned back and waited.
Lily looked back at the very confused young man standing there, still trying to hide behind Wren.
“Your father told you he was a fierjhendanj?”
“When my real mom was killed,” Dre said, nodding.
Motioning to the chairs in my office, I waved them to sit. “Come on. I don’t bite. No one in here does. Let’s stop standing around and hiding behind people. Please.”
It took a moment but they finally all took seats and it was quiet in the room.
Something was in the air. Something was going to change. I didn’t know what, but it was there. Like a tickle, or an itch, at the back of my brain. There were going to be a lot of words I didn’t know, but still somehow knew.
Lily folded her hands on her lap and looked at Dre. “Your father told you he was a fierjhendanj.”
“Showed me,” Dre corrected. “My mother was attacked by a… Cetaphil?”
“Cerdil,” Lily corrected.
He nodded. “That. It was ugly and mean and smelled like eggs.”
“Brimstone,” Lily whispered.
Wren corrected her. “Sulfur.”
Dre nodded again, paling a bit. “It pulled out this crazy ass looking sword with black and silver steel through it. It attacked me and my mom, but she turned away from it to cover me with herself. He chopped her head off and I watched it bounce away.”
Wren let out a long breath. She knew the implications of a child watching a hideous death like that. Given the situation, I was pretty sure he hadn’t even gotten the correct therapy for it.
“Dad came out of fucking nowhere with this white steel blade and just skewered the fucker through the stomach, turned it and sliced the thing in half. The blood that poured out of it sizzled on the floor.”
“Was it green?” I asked, trying to add some levity.
“Orange.” He stared at me. “Like lava. Bright, hot lava. Dad grabbed me and ran like hell. The cervix thing wasn’t dead, though and started running after us. Dad popped up some fire, like you just did, Detective, and chucked it at him. All it did was slow him down, but it was enough for us to get out of the house.
“The whole house went up and the firefighters couldn’t get it out.” His eyes were wide and terrified while he spoke, “My dad hung on to me, keeping me turned away from the fire and telling me he would explain everything later, but that I should never ever tell anyone about the monster and the way he killed my mom. Just let them think that she died in the fire.”
“Accurate,” Lily said. “Do you know why?”
“Duh.” He shrugged. “Hellfire destroys everything. Bones, blood, wood, and metal. Nothing is usable or traceable. Dad said that someday I would be able to call up the fire, too, but so far…”
“Fuck,” Lily whispered the word under her breath and scrubbed a hand down her face. “And your dad said the same thing about your brother?”
Dre nodded. “Yeah, that he’s like me. But he didn’t have a chance to teach him or tell him anything yet because he’s so little. He told me more than once that if anything happened, I had to teach him. I can’t let him go, you see? It’s my job to make sure that he knows about versilange and how to be a good person.”
Wren picked at her fingernail. “Paige, is there any way we can get these two placed together?”
“That’s what I want to do,” I said. “There are very few kids who have a step bond like this. You all owe me a goddamn explanation though.”
The look that Wren gave Lily was pleading, but Lily just shook her head. “Not gonna happen. Sorry. I’ll try to clear everything up later. For now, we need to find a place for these—”
The door burst open again, and a very tall, well dressed, extremely handsome looking black man strode in.
I stood. “Everyone needs to knock before they barge into my office!”
He stopped and stared at me. He glanced at Wren, Lily, then finally Dre. “Where’s James?”
Lily stood smoothly and I could see her resting her hand on the butt of her gun surreptitiously. “Can we help you?”
“Where is James?”
She cleared her throat. “That is not the way this game is going to go, Mister Hathorne. You’re going to do this right because this is not a courtroom and you’re not here for a trial. This is my arena. So. How can we help you?”
He didn’t look chided at all, and made a sour face. “Fine. Alistair Hathorne, Esquire. I’m here to pick up James Higgins.”
“No, you’re not,” I said. “There is no legal documentation that grants you access to that child.”
“I am his only living relative, and he’s my responsibility.” His lip twisted like someone had farted after a cabbage dinner.
Of course, that was not the thing to say in front of Dre. He flushed, his dark skin took a ruddy hue, and his eyes grew wide. “He’s my brother, and you’re not going anywhere with him!”
“Your brother?” Alistair’s chuckle endeared him to no one in the room. “You aren’t his brother. You’re a mistake that my cousin brought into her life.”
I slammed my hand on the desk. “Out.”
“Excuse me?” His eyes narrowed on me.
“Out. Get out. You don’t ever, ever call a child a mistake, sir. I don’t care if you’re the goddamned Pope. Get out. And I will block all of your efforts to take James as a legal guardian.”
Lily, clearly shocked but delighted, pulled the door open. Alistair stared at each of us, and if looks could have killed, Dre would have been drawn and quarter and sent to the four corners of the kingdom. He walked up to Dre and literally got in his face. “You’re no one. You won’t ever be around that child.”
“Fuck you, you house—”
Lily slammed her hand over his mouth. “Holy shit, Andre!”
“That child is mine.”
“Get out,” I snapped. “Get out of here, Hathorne!”
“I’ll see you all in court,” he barked and turned smartly on his heel to march out the door.
Lily slammed it before he was completely clear, and I knew it smacked him on the back. She stared at the wood and I could totally see her setting it on fire, as well as Hathorne’s clothes. And hair if the man had more than a suggestion of it on his head.
Wren stared at Dre. “If you want us to help, want Paige to be on your side and get you and James in a home together, then you’d best not use that language again in front of me. Or Paige, or Detective Haden.” She lifted her eyebrows. “Understood?”
“He is,” Dre mumbled.
“Kid,” Lily said, “your opinion of his standing in the community doesn’t make a hill of beans to Alistair Hathorne. The man is the fucking archnemesis of the district attorney. He will wipe the floor with your ass, and not have to lift a finger. Don’t mess with him.”
Dre turned his lip up. “What’s his game?”
Lily’s gaze could have resurrected her burned door and lasered it in half. “Getting scum off on technicalities. The man has memorized penal code
from Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and Delaware. And from what I heard, half of Maryland. Shark? Nah. They’re too lazy for him. He’s like a killer whale.”
“Killer whale?” I asked.
“Hunts for fun, kills for sport, and leaves the remains for the other scavengers to clean up,” Lily said. “Merciless.”
“Oh, awesome,” I grumbled. I didn’t need more headaches with all this. I plunked into the chair behind me. “Let’s find Dre a legal, known place to stay, shall we?”
I stopped my car down the street from the house.
The news crews were still there.
They hadn’t bothered to cover the bust that had destroyed the damn Pipeline—the biggest sex trafficking ring Philadelphia had ever seen—but they were all over the murders in the daycare like flies on shit.
I desperately needed them to leave. It had been well over ten days and I had hoped the fervor would die out.
Nope. Media loved a juicy story that stoked the gun debate all over again. Did they really think that having preschool and daycare workers carrying weapons was going to stop this?
Not on a hot fucking bet.
James and Andre were safely tucked away in a house in MontCo together, and it seemed to be good for both of them. It also kept them way out of the eyes of the news crews.
Which had all camped out on my typically narrow one-way street, with small driveways and no parking as it was. My neighbors were going to hang me, after I found out who had given them my address.
I understood why Wren was so pissed about Ellie’s location getting out last year. This was no fun. It wasn’t even close to being okay.
Once again, I was going to have to run the gauntlet for my front door.
I loved what I did. I was damn good at it. My only real fuck up had been the Ellie incident—and subsequently Ben—but this was beyond what I wanted to endure.
I drove the car up the street and pulled into the tiny driveway, that was nearly impossible to navigate because of the damn news vans right up against either side. I shut the car off and stared up the stairs at my house. Eighteen steps, five of those actual stairs to the front porch. The reporters were jumping out of their vans and trying to make it over to me.
Clutching my briefcase like a shield, I popped the door, and slammed it behind me. I sped up the walkway, practically leapt the stairs and shoved the door open with the key while hitting the alarm button on the key fob for the door.
The screen door slammed behind me, and I flicked the lock. I yanked the key out of the knob while spinning and slamming the door shut.
After I put my briefcase down in the closet, I checked the blinds, the windows, the mail that I’d stepped on, and the voice mail.
The mail was mostly crap, and the voice mail was mostly requests for interviews. Along with two threats to kill me, one to kill James, and another to set the house on fire for sheltering the son of a murderer.
Sins of the father and all that.
I deleted everything.
“I haven’t been able to open the windows for days.”
Startled, I spun around, clutching a hand to my chest. “Alain! God, you scared me.”
“Are you done with this bullshit yet?”
I let out a breath. “I wish. I really do wish. It’s been two full weeks and you’d think they’d run out of footage and sounds bits about how awful this was, and just get on with not giving a damn about gun control. But they’re still here and I—”
A wave of nausea passed through me and a second later, I pitched forward and vomited.
“Mother—” Alain screamed, jumping back. “Goddamn it, woman! These are from Bloomingdale’s!”
He cuffed me on the side of the head, and I plunged to the ground, into the puddle of vomit. Well, I had almost vomited on his shoes.
Alain started laughing. “That’s justice right there. Clean that up and go take a shower. You’re disgusting. And you need to take care of these reporters fucking up our street. Like yesterday.” He walked toward the kitchen. “What’s for dinner?”
“I’m not hungry,” I mumbled, pulling myself up.
“I am, so make some fucking food.”
Okay. There were directives. Time to order them and figure out how to do this. First thing first was to get out of my clothes. I hustled to the bathroom and found my robe, that I almost never used, hanging there. I reached for it, and the door flew back, slamming my hand between it and the wall, painfully.
“Didn’t I tell you to clean that up?”
“Yes, Alain, you did. I was working on it. I couldn’t clean in the puked on clothes.”
“Your hands work just find in the filthy as they do in the clean. Get your ass back out there and clean that up!”
Grabbing my wrist, he tossed me into the hall and slammed the door closed between us.
“I want roast beef!”
“That’s a two hour meal,” I mumbled.
“You’ll have to speed that up, now won’t you?”
“Yes, Alain.”
I walked to the closet where I kept the bucket and mop. The smell was getting to me, and I stripped off the shirt, and dropped it over the mess. I could wash that, no problem. Grabbing some floor cleaner, Pine Sol maybe?, I put a bit in the bucket and headed for the laundry room to use the slop sink. It only took a few minutes to fill halfway.
Running a hand over my face, I desperately needed time to process everything that had happened that day with Wren and Lily. I just had shut everything up and pretended that I knew what the hell had happened that day. But I didn’t. It felt like I should, and that was the weird part. Like I should know why those words were just in my head. How Lily could survive a shotgun blast, and then conjure up fire with her hand.
Was it magic? Was it the devil? Was it all an illusion? A bit of all of that?
But I had been running since the instant Andre White smashed his way into my office.
Maybe before that. Long before that.
I had thought about it a bit the other night, and what my brain did to me while I was trying to sort it was scaring the fuck out of me. So, I shoveled all of that in the Lily and Wren Are Weird file, and zipped it. I could take some time tonight and start unpacking what had really happened in that office.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Alain roared the words in my ear, scaring the crap out of me and making me drop the bucket back in the sink.
“Cleaning!” I gasped.
“Naked?!”
“I had to take the shirt off. The smell was going to make me sick.”
“You couldn’t grab a shirt?”
I was about to remind him that he slammed the door on me as I was trying to grab my robe, but that was absolutely the wrong thing to say.
“I can get one right now,” I answered instead, and moved to the laundry shelf where I had folded some fresh shirts.
Alain grabbed my hair and yanked me back. “You know what happens now, right?” His teeth clamped down on my shoulder.
“Alain…please let me clean.”
“No. On your knees. I’ve told you what your naked body does to me. Take care of it.”
“Alain…”
“Now.”
The list of stuff I had to accomplish grew too much. There was no way I could get everything done by the time he went to bed. Which meant, it was better to just suck him off and get dinner cooking.
I sank down to my knees.
Fischer
“Doctor Skillman?”
I rubbed my eyes trying to wake up. Somehow, I’d managed to fall asleep on my desk downstairs. That sucked and I now had a terrible crick in my neck and five pages of the letter J and V in the document.
“Yes, this is Doctor Skillman.”
“We have a serious problem,” the person on the other end said.
“Who are you?”
“Fairuza Glencoe, Nurse Practitioner at St. Chris.”
I sat up straight. “What’s going on?”
“Ben Sheehan has disappeared.�
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No words came out of my mouth at first. I finally managed to squeak. “What do you mean?”
“We’ve searched the whole facility for him, and there’s no sign of him. We’ve had the police come with search dogs. We’ve had them in the neighborhood—”
“Neighborhood…” I grumbled. “How long has he been missing?”
“Last checks were at nine,” she said.
Fear shot through me as I glanced up at the clock: 1:07 a.m.
“Four hours?” The words ripped out of me, loud and pissed off. “And you’re just fucking calling us now?”
“A mistake,” she said. “The last person on duty didn’t do ten p.m. checks. Doctor, it’s a mess. Can you come in with his mother? We need your help.”
“You’re going to need a fucking lawyer,” I growled.
“Yes, sir. We appreciate that we will.”
“Doctor Warner and I will be there as fast as we can,” I snapped. I flicked the phone to end the call and shoved it in my pocket as I flew up the stairs two at a time.
Wren was already sitting up in bed when I shoved through the door.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, scrubbing her eyes.
“Ben’s missing, and it’s been four hours since anyone has seen him.” I ran into the closet to find something more presentable to wear than sweatpants. “They just called now and want us to come down.”
Wren was in the closet with me a moment later, throwing on some clothes, and I heard someone scrambling out of the bed.
“Don’t leave without me,” Lincoln called. “I’m waking Bastian, too.”
“Bastian needs to stay here with the kids,” Wren yelled at him.
“Not this time,” Ellie said, standing in the door. “I’m coming with you.”
“Yes,” I said simply.
Wren and Ellie looked shocked.
“You’re his sister and you’re a versilange. We’ve already determined you’re a kickass fighter, and you definitely have a dog in this fight. And bring the twins. Fuck it. They’re in this too, whether we like it or not.”
I kissed Wren’s forehead, trying to alleviate the confusion. “Baby, this isn’t a standard issue kid. This is the sibling of a versilange, and a boy who has been deeply traumatized. If there’s even the smallest chance that he’s also part of this mess, we can’t let Tartarus have him.”
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