chapter twenty-two

I retreated to my bedroom, leaving Finn and Keane to their own devices. I did not want an audience for the call with my mom. I sat in my room by the phone, watching the hands circle my watch.

Mom hadn’t mentioned which hotel she was staying at, and even if she had, I probably wouldn’t have known where it was, so I had no idea how long it would take her to get there. It was hard to believe it would take longer than twenty minutes to get anywhere in Avalon, unless you were on foot, but my mom almost certainly would have taken a cab if she wasn’t staying right around the corner. Yet the minutes kept ticking away, and still she didn’t call.

Maybe she didn’t have a room yet. Maybe there was a line at check-in, and that’s why it was taking so long for her to get back to me. But I couldn’t help being worried. Finn had been savagely beaten in an attempt to get to me. Would they also try to use my mother against me?

I paced across the small room, willing the phone to ring, panic spreading like fire through my veins. She might not be the perfect mom, and I might not have wanted to live with her—though those old days with her were looking pretty good right now—but I did love her. Just as I knew she loved me. She had sacrificed everything to keep me from getting embroiled in Avalon’s twisted political game, and what had I done? Run away from home and thrown myself into the shark-infested waters. How could I have been so selfish?

The phone rang before I could continue beating myself to death with guilt. I practically knocked the phone to the floor in my eagerness to get it, though I dreaded hearing a menacing voice on the other end telling me they had my mother. The caller ID said the call was from the Hilton, but that didn’t calm my fears.

“Mom?” I half-shouted into the phone, crossing my fingers like I actually thought that would have an effect.

“Hi, honey,” she said, as if she hadn’t just scared ten years off my life.

I sank down onto the bed, one hand clutching my chest while I willed my heart to calm its frantic thumping.

“What took you so long?” I asked. “You scared me half to death!”

“Check-in time isn’t until three, so my room wasn’t ready yet. I’m sorry. I should have called from the lobby to tell you.”

I squinched my eyes shut and bit my tongue to keep myself from saying something I would regret. Because if there’s one thing I’d learned in years of living with my mom, it was that drunks lie. And she was lying right now.

How did I know? Because I could hear the alcohol in her voice. She didn’t slur or have trouble forming words like drunks on TV do—she had a lot of practice talking while impaired, so it took a lot of booze to make it obvious to the casual observer. But I wasn’t a casual observer, and I was way too familiar with the signs.

When my mom is drunk, she talks a lot slower than when she’s not. Plus, there’s this kind of sleepy tone to her voice, like she’d just woken up in the middle of the night. That’s exactly how she sounded now. All the warm fuzzy feelings I’d been having since I found out she’d come after me drained away.

“You just couldn’t wait to start drinking, could you?” I asked, my own voice tight with anger. “As soon as you knew I wasn’t dead, you ran for that bottle without a second thought, even though you knew I was waiting for you to call.”

“I resent that implication!” she snapped. “I have not been drinking.”

Ah, the other classic Mom behavior that made me want to pull my hair out. If she was just sitting around the house watching TV, she’d admit to being “a bit tipsy.” But if she’d been drinking instead of doing something she was supposed to, she would never, ever admit it. Even when her breath reeked of alcohol, she’d swear she hadn’t had a drop, and there was a perfectly good excuse for why she’d forgotten to buy groceries, or hadn’t made it to that parent-teacher meeting, or hadn’t called the gas company to clear up that little misunderstanding about the bill. Whatever.

It all came back to me in a rush, the reason I’d run away from home in the first place. All my fears about my future were forgotten in the swell of anger and hurt that overwhelmed me. How could I stand to listen to the lies and excuses anymore? How could I keep my frustration from turning me into a screaming maniac? How could I watch her continue to destroy herself one brain cell at a time?

“I have not been drinking!” my mom repeated more loudly when I didn’t answer.

How could I have allowed myself to hope even for a moment that my running away might finally convince her it was time to clean up her act? And yet, the ache now forming in my chest and throat proved I’d let that hope grow despite knowing better.

“Why can’t you just admit it? You know I know, so why can’t you just say you’re drunk?” Don’t ask me why, but somehow, I couldn’t help thinking I’d feel better if she’d just confess the truth, stop acting like I was so stupid I couldn’t tell.

“We are not having this conversation, Dana. I have worried myself sick over you and flown halfway across the world to come find you, and this is the thanks I get?”

Then, naturally, the waterworks started.

When I was younger, I’d start feeling guilty right on cue when she started crying. Now it just made me madder. I didn’t say anything, just sat there with my teeth gritted and my eyes closed, waiting for her to wise up to the fact that her tears weren’t moving me.

Eventually, she stopped blubbering, and I heard her blow her nose noisily. I’m pretty sure I also heard the slosh of a bottle being tipped.

“Are you okay, honey?” she asked, as if none of the previous conversation had happened.

I tried to play the same game, but it was hard to force the words through my aching throat. “Yeah. I’m fine. Dad is taking real good care of me.”

“Of course he is. Your father is not a bad man. It was never him I wanted to protect you from. It was … this place.”

“I like Avalon,” I found myself saying, just to be contrary.

Mom didn’t immediately know what to say to that. Alcohol and witty dialogue do not go together.

“That bodyguard said there had been attempts on your life,” she finally remembered, and, oh no, off she went again. “My poor baby.” Blubber, blubber. “I tried to warn you. I tried to make you see.” Sniffle, snort. “We have to get you out of here and get you home.”

Amazing how little time I had to spend on the phone with my mother before “home” became a four-letter word. I didn’t want to go home with Mom, and I didn’t want to stay in Avalon with Dad. If only I could think of a third choice. (Other than getting killed by one of the Faerie Queens, that is.)

I tried to wait out my mom’s current fit of hysterics. But if I had to listen to her cry for another minute, I was going to go postal. “I can’t deal with this right now,” I told her in my flattest, coldest voice. “Call me back when you’re sober, and we’ll talk.”

Mom was in mid-wail when I hung up.

She tried to call back a few times, but I didn’t answer. Finn came up after the first time and asked me if he should pick up the phone if she called again. The pity in his eyes when he looked at me made me cringe. Had Dad told him my mom was a drunk? Or—ever so much worse—had he been listening to my phone conversation? He was a nice guy and all, but it wouldn’t shock me if Dad had given him other orders that had nothing to do with guarding me.

“Just ignore her, okay?” I asked.

He opened his mouth as if to say something, then changed his mind. “Very well,” he said, then slipped out the door and left me to my misery.

I hid in my room for the rest of the day, trying not to rehash my poignant reunion with my mom. I didn’t do a very good job of it, though.

Right around five, I heard the faint sound of the garage door opening, and I realized my dad was home. I was so not looking forward to whatever drama was about to unfold.

I’d assumed my mom would spend the rest of the day drinking herself into a stupor, which should have meant I wouldn’t have to deal with her again until at least tomorrow. But when I stuck my head out my bedroom door, I immediately heard the sound of arguing voices, and one of them was my mom’s. Groan. The idea of remaining hidden in my room was embarrassingly appealing, but I figured it was a bad idea to let them discuss my future—because what else were they likely to be discussing?—without any input from me.

I crept slowly down the stairs, hoping to eavesdrop and get a feel for where things stood before I made my entrance. Unfortunately, their voices were muffled just enough by the walls that I couldn’t understand what they were saying. I paused at the base of the stairs, listening intently, but both my parents went silent. There was nothing for me to do but go in blind.

I pushed the door open and saw something I’d thought I’d never see: my mother and my father in the same room.

My mom was seated on the sofa, a glass of amber liquid clutched in her hands, and my father stood with his back to the room, staring out the front window with his hands clasped behind his back. He didn’t turn to look at me when my mom shouted my name and sprang to her feet, sloshing a bit of her drink over the rim of the glass. I’m guessing she meant to run to me for a smothering maternal hug, but the look on my face must have stopped her.

“You gave her booze?” I cried at my father’s back, and I was so outraged I felt like I might explode with it.

Dad turned to look at me then, and those piercing eyes of his stopped my voice in my throat. There was no magic involved, just the crushing weight of his disapproval. Objectively, he still looked young enough to be my mother’s son—she had not aged gracefully—but the paternal authority in his gaze destroyed that illusion and made me shrink back.

“You are my daughter, Dana,” he said, his voice frosty. “Your mother is not, and is therefore free to make her own decisions.”

“Dana, honey,” my mom said before I could think of an appropriate retort, “let’s not fight. We have a lot to talk about.”

The fuzz of alcohol still showed in her voice, but at least she wasn’t passed out in the hotel room, and she was close enough to sober to retain her powers of higher reasoning. With her, that kind of limbo state could be the worst of two worlds—drunk enough to be maudlin, sober enough that I couldn’t work around her.

I swallowed my bitterness the best I could, crossing my arms over my chest in what I knew was a defensive posture. “Fine,” I said, then clamped my jaws shut.

Dad was still giving me his laser-beam stare. “If you plan to participate in this conversation, I expect you to treat both me and your mother with the proper respect. Understood?”

I blinked in surprise. I wasn’t sure why Dad was mad at me, but that seemed to be the case. I couldn’t find my voice, so I merely nodded my agreement.

“Good,” he said with a curt nod of his own. “Now sit down, and let’s all behave like civilized adults.”

My mom winced, and that was when I realized it wasn’t me Dad was mad at. She sank down onto the sofa, taking a healthy gulp of her drink. I sat on the other end of the sofa and refused to look at her. Dad, of course, remained standing. I think it made him feel more in charge.

“Your father told me what’s happened,” my mom said.

I looked at Dad, trying to gauge how much he’d told her, but his expression gave away nothing.

“We were discussing what’s best for you now,” Mom continued, and Dad’s poker face slipped.

“There is nothing to discuss,” he said in a voice that suggested this wasn’t the first time he’d said it. “You cannot change what’s already happened, and now that Dana is an open secret, it is safest for her to remain in Avalon in my care.”

Mom wasn’t so boozy she couldn’t manage a first-class glare. “Just because you keep repeating it doesn’t mean it’s true.”

Dad’s glare was much more intimidating. “And just because you don’t want it to be true doesn’t mean it isn’t. Can you honestly tell me you’re equipped to protect Dana from assassins?”

She clunked her glass down on the coffee table and stood up, swaying slightly. “Can you honestly tell me you have nothing but her best interests in mind?” she countered.

Gee, I was glad we were going to discuss this like civilized adults.

Dad looked stricken. “I can’t believe you’d think I would put my own ambitions ahead of our daughter! You know how rare and precious children are to the Fae.” His voice was tight and choked, and I could barely recognize the stoic, reserved Fae politician I had first met. “You deprived me of my only child for sixteen years, and now you wish to whisk her away from me when I’ve only just met her. I won’t allow you to do it, and I wouldn’t have allowed it even if she’d proven not to be a Faeriewalker.”

I was really beginning to wish I’d stayed upstairs. Any idiot could tell they weren’t really discussing my options at the moment so much as airing out old grievances. Dad had seemed to take my mom’s decision to keep me secret from him with barely a blink, but obviously it bothered him a lot more than he’d let on. I wanted to slink away and let the two of them work things out, but I didn’t think I’d get away with it.

“You have no need to ‘allow’ me to do anything,” my mom said. “I am Dana’s legal guardian, and you can’t stop me.” She turned to me. “Pack your bags, Dana. We’re leaving as soon as you’re ready.”

She sounded terribly sure of herself, but even drunk she couldn’t possibly believe it would be that easy. Still, I leapt to my feet, hoping this was my chance to escape.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Cathy,” Dad said, then gave me a stern look that conveyed the message “sit down” without need for words. Reluctantly, I obeyed.

Mom gave him an absolutely withering look. “If you think you can keep Dana here’”

“Then I’m right!” he snapped. “How do you intend to remove her without my consent?”

Mom wavered.

“I want us to work in partnership to protect our daughter,” Dad continued, his voice steely. “But if you feel we must work at cross purposes, then rest assured that I will file a custody suit before you get halfway out the door. Even were Dana not a special case, I’d have enough grounds to believe I’d win, considering…” He glanced down at the glass that still sat on the coffee table.

Mom went pale, and something uncomfortable twisted in my gut. I had, of course, seen evidence before that my father was capable of a certain amount of ruthlessness. But as much as I disapproved of my mom’s drinking, it was a low blow for him to use it against her like this.

The look on Dad’s face gentled, and he sighed. “I had not intended this discussion to end in threats,” he said quietly.

Mom sniffled, and I looked up to see tears streaming down her cheeks. For once, I felt like the tears were a sign of genuine pain, not an attempt to elicit pity. I couldn’t think of a single thing to say that would make her feel better, but I impulsively reached for her hand and gave it a squeeze.

“It’ll be all right, Mom,” I said, though I doubted either of us believed it.

“I’m sorry, Cathy,” Dad said. “But I have to do what I feel is right for Dana.”

She raised her chin and blinked away her tears. “So do I, Seamus.”

She disentangled her hand from mine, putting both her hands on my shoulders and turning me to face her. “I will get you out of here, honey, I promise.” Then she kissed the top of my head like I was six, gave Dad one last dirty look, and marched for the door.

I wondered if she realized she’d never once asked me what I wanted. I wasn’t sure I could have answered her, but it would have been nice to think my opinion counted for something.

“Dana’” Dad started as the door slammed closed behind my mom, but I held up my hand for silence, and to my shock, he gave in.

“I need some time to think right now,” I said, not looking at him. “Can we please … talk about this later?” I sneaked a glance at him, but whatever he was feeling was hidden behind a carefully neutral expression.

“I understand,” he said, and I got the feeling he really did. “Take however much time you need.”

I nodded, but my throat was too tight to allow any sound out. I couldn’t have told you exactly why I was on the verge of tears, but I was, so I beat a hasty retreat before I could fall apart in front of an audience.

I spent at least an hour alone in my room, hugging my knees to my chest while I tried to figure out what I wanted to do. The likelihood was high that what I wanted would have little relationship to what I actually got, but I wasn’t used to not knowing my own mind.

A lot of soul-searching led me to the inevitable conclusion that what I wanted was the impossible: I wanted to live with my mom, but not with her alcohol. And I didn’t want my dad completely cut off from my life again. Oh, and I wanted not to have to hide from assassins for the rest of my life.

It was a depressing list of wants, and I was on the verge of having a pity party when a burst of inspiration hit me. There was no way I was getting everything I wanted, but maybe I could manage some of it.

Mom had made it very clear she wanted to get me out of Avalon. Dad had already dropped a load of obstacles in her way, but I doubted she was ready to give up. One thing that I was sure she hadn’t factored into her plans, however, was the possibility that I might side with my dad and want to stay in Avalon.

What might she promise me, what might she actually do if I used myself as a bargaining chip? There was only one way to find out.

I didn’t give myself very long to think about it before I picked up the phone, finding the number for the Hilton by reviewing the caller ID log.

Mom sounded distinctly drunker when she answered the phone. “Hello?”

“Hi, Mom.”

“Dana! Honey, is everything all right?”

“Yeah, everything’s fine.” I almost laughed. Who was I kidding? “I have a proposition for you, and I want you to hear me out until I’ve told you the whole thing.”

She hesitated. “Okay,” she finally agreed, sounding suspicious.

I took a deep breath before I continued. “There’s no way you’re getting me out of Avalon without my cooperation.”

“Dana!” she protested in a shocked whisper.

“Remember, you promised to hear me out.” Well, maybe promised was a strong word, but Mom was convinced enough to backpedal.

“All right,” she said, voice quavering.

“I’ll come home with you, but you have to swear to me on your life that you’re going to check yourself into a rehab as soon as we get there. And if you deny you have a drinking problem right now, then I’m going to hang up on you, and I will never come home. Ever!”

I could almost feel it, my mom’s desperate desire to feed me the lie once again, tell me she didn’t have a problem. But I think even in her booze-addled mind, she heard how dead serious I was. My life in Avalon so far had sucked. But now that Mom was here to remind me what it was like to live with her, I wasn’t so sure life at home sucked much less. It was just a different brand of suckage.

“I swear to you on my life that I will check myself into a rehab when we get home. Just please, come home with me. I need you. And no matter what, baby, I love you. You know I love you, more than anything else in the world.”

I took a long, slow, deep breath, trying to bring my thoughts to order. Could I be sure my mom would keep her promise when I wasn’t holding the proverbial gun to her head? Hell no. But maybe, just maybe, this time I was getting through to her. This time she’d actually go to rehab, dry out, rejoin the human race. And if there was even the slimmest chance that my ploy would work, I had to try it.

Of course, getting out of Avalon was going to take some doing, even if I cooperated. Actually, at the moment I had no idea how I was going to go about it. But I was determined to find a way.

“Okay, Mom,” I said. “I’ll come home with you. But I need to take care of a few things first.” I wasn’t about to tell her the long list of obstacles that stood between me and freedom. She was probably going to continue to drink herself silly as soon as I got off the phone anyway, but there was no reason to add more fuel to her fire.

“You mean your father,” she said with a hiccup.

“Yeah, that’s a big one,” I said.

“If Seamus Stuart thinks he can keep my daughter from me, he’s got another think coming!”

Yeah, right. Like Mom was in any kind of shape to take Dad on.

“Please, Mom. Let me handle Dad. I think I know a way to make him see things my way.” I did the lying-through-my-teeth finger-cross. “But I need you to lay low for a bit. I have a feeling if he starts fighting for custody, we’d need an army to get me out of here.”

Mom thought about it a bit, and I could hear the clink of bottle against glass. I gritted my teeth to keep from snapping at her. If by some miracle my ploy worked, she’d have the rest of her life ahead of her without the pickled brain effect; I could put up with her drinking for a little while longer.

“All right, honey,” she finally said, and I let out a silent sigh of relief. “I’m at the Hilton, room 526. I’ll wait to hear from you.”

“Thanks, Mom. I’ll let you know as soon as I have things worked out.”

“Don’t take too long, honey,” she warned. “The longer you’re here, the harder it will be to get away.”

“I know. I’ll hurry, I promise.”

We said our good-byes. And then I lay down on my bed and tried to figure out how on earth I was going to escape.