CHAPTER TWELVE

It was nearly 3 a.m. when we knocked on Patrick’s door. It took a while for him to open it, and when he did, he sighed and shook his head.

“I knew you’d be by eventually,” he said. “I just expected it at a decent hour. Silly me.” He looked at Lloergan, standing at my side. “Protection against Seanna’s return? Sadly, whatever her crimes, I don’t think she’s killed any fae. Otherwise, I’d say setting a hound on her is a lovely idea.”

“Ricky’s out of town.”

“Ah, cŵn-sitting.”

We walked past him into the house. When I noticed Lloergan wasn’t at my side, I looked out to see her on the front stoop.

“Staying out there?” I asked.

She grunted and laid her head on her paws.

“Good call.”

We continued through the old house into the largest room, where Patrick had knocked down a wall to make an area that was half old-fashioned library and half modern entertainment center. An odd mix, one that embraced the different sides of the bòcan himself: the scholar, the novelist, and the fae who refused to act—or look—his age.

I settled in on the couch. Gabriel sat at my side.

“We know you paid for Seanna’s hotel. But she’s gone. And she left a hell of a mess.”

He sighed. “Figuratively or literally? No, wait. Both. Stripped the hotel room of everything of value, and management is threatening a lawsuit. Just give me the bill.”

“Is that how you intend to handle Seanna’s return? A trail of money leading her away?”

“It’s worked before,” he murmured, low enough that I suspected I wasn’t supposed to hear.

Gabriel cut in. “You are correct that she left both a literal and a figurative mess. You are incorrect as to the nature of both. She appears to have feigned her murder…after conveniently telling another guest that she was my mother.”

“Cach,” Patrick spat. “Trashing the room just wasn’t good enough, was it, Seanna?” He looked over at Gabriel and when he spoke, his voice was tight. “I presume the point of that stunt was to frame you and then magically reappear after you paid her off?”

“We expect so, but I was lakeside, with an ironclad alibi. Yet it doesn’t appear that the police will be quick to drop the investigation, and you were the one who checked her into that hotel. Also, someone in a red Maserati parked outside the hotel shortly before Seanna disappeared.”

Patrick’s gaze shot to me.

“Olivia was with me,” Gabriel said. “We exchanged cars with Rose so we could take Lloergan.”

“Cach.”

“That woman is Seanna, isn’t she?” I said. “There’s no way she’s an impostor? Maybe a fae using her face as a glamour?”

“Glamours don’t work like that. It’s her. I know you’d love to hear otherwise, but going down that path is dangerous. That is Seanna Walsh.”

“Because she said something that proved it?”

“No,” Gabriel said. “Because Patrick already knew she was alive.”

I could swear Patrick flinched.

“You paid her off,” I said, remembering his earlier words. “She came back before, and you paid her to go away.”

“Any business between myself and Seanna Walsh is personal and private—”

“Uh, no,” I said. “Given that the ‘business’ between you resulted in the man sitting across from you, I think there’s a third party involved.”

“Thank you for the clarification, Olivia.” Patrick’s tone cooled, and he used my full name the way my adoptive father used it on those rare occasions when he was displeased, and I went from Livy to O-liv-i-a, each syllable pronounced in full.

“If you had let me finish,” Patrick continued, “I’d have said that, in general, I do not wish to speak about my business with Seanna Walsh, but on this topic—and this one alone—I will, because I do not wish either of you to think this might be an impostor. Also, I want to clear up a misunderstanding regarding what you think I did and did not do for Gabriel.”

“Misunderstanding? When I accused you of letting him go through hell as a child, what did you say to me?”

“I have no idea—”

“Oh, I do. Because I will never forget the words. Here’s a hint: steel.”

Do you know how they temper steel, Olivia? The application of controlled heat. As strong as the metal will withstand. That produces the most resilient steel. Too much and it will break. It must be tough, yet slightly malleable. Adaptable to the greatest number of situations. That’s Gabriel.

“You take liberties, Olivia,” Patrick said, his voice heavy with warning.

“Because you allow it…except when it inconveniences you. You’re like the parent who wants to be all buddy-buddy until the kid disrespects him and then, suddenly, it’s off to your room until dinner. Oh, sorry. Wrong analogy. You don’t know anything about parenting.”

“Patrick?” Gabriel said. “You were confirming that, yes, you did know Seanna was alive.”

Patrick took a moment to compose himself and then said, “She contacted me about ten years ago. Ordered me to meet her, or she’d tell the world I was a deadbeat dad. After she abandoned you.”

A roll of his eyes, more himself now as he settled into his story. “I aged my glamour, and we met. I told her that I thought it convenient she returned when you reached the age of majority and could no longer legally expect anything from her. I managed to convince her that she would owe you compensation for those lost years of care. Then I gave her some money and, as I expected, she went away again. Then, a few years ago, she saw your name in the paper and realized you were far more successful than the average twenty-something. So I had to pay her more.”

He looked at Gabriel as if expecting a thank-you.

“I would have appreciated the warning,” Gabriel said, his voice deceptively soft.

Patrick only said, “I meant to,” and then shrugged and added, “I just didn’t get to it,” as if explaining why he’d failed to warn a visitor that the front stoop was slippery.

“Perhaps I have misstepped,” Gabriel said, those pale blue eyes now as chill as his voice. “I have failed to complain or express any displeasure at the fact you hid my paternity from me. It was unproductive. That has led you to believe that I harbor no ill feelings over the situation.”

“I kept her away, Gabriel.”

“I beg your pardon?”

Again, Patrick missed Gabriel’s tone entirely and turned to face him, as if he only needed to explain more clearly. “When she came back, you were in college and well on your way to a successful life. I wouldn’t allow her to interfere with that. So I helped you.”

“The time to help me was when I was a child,” Gabriel enunciated slowly. “Locked in a cubby while she screwed men for drug money.”

Now Patrick really did flinch. “I had no idea—”

“Of course you didn’t. You’d washed your hands of me. I don’t believe you actively ignored the abuse—you simply didn’t open your eyes and look. If you had, you might have seen something inconvenient.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Then tell me what it was like.”

“I kept an eye on you. Remember I gave you that hint for finding the last gargoyle?”

“You—you gave him the hint—” I sputtered.

Gabriel’s hand on my knee stopped me. “If you paid Seanna to stay away, then I suspect that was to save yourself further inconvenience.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Patrick said.

“Then, again, please explain.”

Patrick walked to the bookcase and began re-shelving a stack.

“I’m not asking you to explain why you seduced a seventeen-year-old drug addict,” Gabriel said. “You’re fae. It doesn’t mean the same.”

“I didn’t—” Patrick stopped himself and fussed with a book, straightening loose pages in the old tome.

“All right,” Gabriel said. “There was likely little seduction required. Perhaps she convinced you she was older. Perhaps she was clean at the time. Whatever the case, I’ll accept that she was a willing participant in the affair.”

“There was no—” Again, Patrick cut himself short. He took a book from the shelf and scanned, as if looking for the proper spot.

After a moment, Gabriel’s hands clenched, ever so slightly, and he drew in a small breath. “I would like to understand the circumstances regarding my conception, and why you left me with a teenaged addict for a mother.”

“I did, all right? I take the blame. I made mistakes. I apologize. Is that what you want?”

“What I want is an explanation. I believe I’m entitled to one.”

“No, you’re not.”

I bristled and rose. “Gabriel is—”

“I have never asked you for anything, Patrick,” Gabriel said, his voice low. “Even as a child, when you offered to tell me where to find the last gargoyle, I refused. Now I am asking for something.”

Patrick shook his head and took out a small stack of books, laying them on the table.

“Damn you,” I said, shoving the books aside as I planted myself in front of him. “Your son is asking for words. That’s it. Words. You’ll damn well find the basic civility to answer—”

“Stay out of this, Liv,” Patrick said. “It isn’t your concern.”

“If it’s about him, then it is my concern. Isn’t that what you once told me?”

“Please lock the door on your way out. It’s late, and I’m going back to bed.”

He started to leave. I grabbed his arm.

The room went dark. Then flashes. Images. Still pictures coming so fast it took me a moment to realize they were memories of Gwynn and Matilda.

Images flipped past, mostly of that fateful night when Matilda died. A few others I didn’t recognize. Then the one I’d seen in Gabriel’s memories—a Gwynn standing dumbfounded over the body of an Arawn, bloodied sword in hand.

“You love games.” A woman’s voice pierced the darkness. “Just not when they’re foisted on you. We could have avoided that if you’d spoken to me sooner. I presume you got my message.”

“Matilda is returning,” Patrick’s voice answered. “Here. To this region.”

The woman again. “Yes.”

“Has she been born?”

“Not yet.”

“When?”

“Eventually. That is all I know, bòcan, so do not press me for more.”

“But you know more about Gwynn, don’t you? That’s who I saw. What’s my connection to him?”

“I’m sure you’ve figured it out.”

“I have no idea.”

“You lie so well, bòcan. All right. Let me spell it out for you. Gwynn is returning, and you will be his sire.”

The voiced faded. Then I saw light. I blinked hard and opened my eyes to find myself staring at an open window, sunlight streaming through.

I always close the curtains. Basic security. Particularly when borrowing a house not your own.

I lifted my head and—

“Cach!” Pain stabbed through my skull.

I’m hungover.

How was that possible? The last time I’d been hungover was nearly a century ago, after drinking four bottles of fae wine. Last night I’d only had half a glass.

No, wait. Seanna had brought more.

“Only for you,” she’d said. “I know I’ve had enough.”

Seanna had dosed the damned wine. And then what…?

I looked down to see I was fully dressed, and exhaled in relief. Then I glanced at the nightstand, where I’d left my wallet and watch. Watch gone. Wallet…I checked. Empty.

I shook my head. That was a fine thanks for rescuing her from a beating and giving her a place to spend the night, but I’d known what Seanna was, and theft, sadly, was exactly what I should have expected.

The scene faded. When it surged again, I was home in Cainsville. Veronica had summoned me, urgently, and I knew that meant trouble, but as I entered the hall, I slowed and pushed back my worry and then swung through into the living room, casually saying, “All right, where’s the fire?”

Veronica pointed to the couch. There was Seanna Walsh.

“She was looking for you rather desperately,” Veronica said. “I can’t imagine why.” She cast a pointed look at the girl’s protruding stomach.

“No, that’s— It can’t…” I trailed off as I flashed back to the night Seanna had drugged me. The night I couldn’t remember. Waking up fully dressed suggested I hadn’t done anything to Seanna. It did not mean she hadn’t done anything to me.

The scene went dark again and…

I woke in Gabriel’s lap. He was crouched, as if he’d caught me mid-fall. Patrick stood over us, his face colder than I’d ever seen it.

“Discovered a new power, Olivia?” Patrick said.

“You didn’t seduce Seanna,” I said. “You didn’t even have a fling. You rescued her, and she repaid you by robbing you blind. But your watch and money wasn’t all she took. She drugged you and had sex with you. Without your consent.”

His face went even colder, and behind his eyes I saw a rage that made me want to take his advice, to get out as fast as I could.

I looked him in the eye. “It was blackmail, wasn’t it? She knew you had money. Another of her half-baked schemes. Only this one worked. She did get pregnant.”

“Get out. Now.”

I rose. “I will. But you—”

“Stop talking,” Patrick said.

Gabriel shouldered between us. “Don’t tell her—”

“Get out of my house, Olivia, and if you ever invade my privacy again—”

“Do not threaten her,” Gabriel cut in, his voice quiet. “If you want to blame someone, blame me for pressing. I asked because I needed to understand, even if I would love to say it doesn’t matter and I’m quite over it. I asked, and you refused.”

“I—”

“You refused—to protect your ego and your pride. You were conned and assaulted by a teenager. That did not fit the image you wish to project. So you refused the one thing I asked of you. I will not forget that.”

Gabriel ushered me through the house and out the front door.

Lloergan fell in at my side. We’d walked to Patrick’s, leaving Rose’s car at her house. I had to nearly jog to keep up with Gabriel’s long strides as he headed back there. Lloergan whined and pushed at my hand.

In rejecting the overture, Patrick rejected him. It was a reminder that Patrick had left him with Seanna, turned his back, and then said, “Hey, kid, I helped you with the gargoyles. What more do you want?”

What happened to Patrick was horrible, and if it was possible to hate Seanna more, I did. But Gabriel had nothing to do with that. If the admission was too shameful for Patrick to share, he could have made up a story. She got me drunk and…I guess we had sex.

He refused to answer for exactly the reason Gabriel said. To protect himself. To protect his ego and his reputation.

I would not forget that, either.