Demon's Cradle (Devany Miller Book 3) (6 page)

“I gotta have a reason to visit you, do I? Maybe I came for the grandbabies.”

I snorted. “They aren’t babies anymore, Dad.” I tucked a stray piece of hair behind my ear. “Dad, this is my friend, Arsinua. Arsinua, this is my Dad, Morgan Fletcher.”

She clutched her hands together, as if holding herself back from touching my dad’s face to see if he were real. My dad kept his smile in place though I could see he was a bit perplexed by her reaction. Finally she shook his hand and when she did, her face cleared. “Nice to meet you.”

I stared between the both of them, unsure what I missed.

Arsinua smiled brightly at me. “I’ll let you two catch up.” She left before I had a chance to ask her what the hell was going on.

Dad’s whiskers had grown to Santa Claus proportions and he tipped his head back to itch at his hairy neck.

“Hey Grandpa,” Liam said. “How long do you get to stay?”

“Meh. A week maybe. Can’t turn down a chance to see my kids all in one place.” He hooked an arm around me and squeezed. “I’m sorry I didn’t make it to your Dad’s funeral,” he told Liam.

My son nodded. “It’s okay.”

“Can I get something cold? It’s fricking humid here. Don’t know how you stand it.” He nudged the duffel across the floor to Liam, who picked it up with a grunt.

“Take it to the guest room,” I told him as I guided Dad into the kitchen. Arsinua was already fixing a tray of bite sized sandwiches and had a pitcher of lemonade on the counter, ice cubes bobbing in its pink depths. “You didn’t have to—”

“Please, sit,” she said to my father, her eyes pinned to his face like one of the pope’s biggest fans.

“Thank you.” My dad’s eyes slid to me and in a flash I knew what he was thinking.

I sighed.

“So. How long have you and my daughter been together?” He reached for the pitcher but Arsinua got there first, pouring the drink into a glass for him. He thanked her again.

“Several months now,” said Arsinua, clueless and still making ‘I adore you’ eyes at my dad.

“Arsinua.” She ignored me. I said her name twice more before she deigned to grace me with a glance. “He thinks we’re a couple.”

“A couple of what?” Arsinua pushed a plate toward him.

“You mean, you aren’t?” Dad grabbed a sandwich bite and popped it in his mouth.

“She and Travis are dating.” I grabbed a sandwich off my dad’s plate, since it looked like Arsinua meant them only for him and I was hungry. “What is wrong with you?”

“She’s just being friendly,” my dad said around his snack.

“He looks just like Bran the Forsworn.”

A grin blossomed on Dad’s face. “Now that sounds rather adventurous.” He puffed out his chest. “For I am Bran the Forsworn, conquerer of the ages.”

I was saved from more drama by Bethy. She squealed when she saw Dad.

There was much hugging and I love yous, then Bethy turned to me. “Can I go over to Lissa’s? Please?”

“Have your phone?”

She patted her front jean’s pocket. “Check.”

“Ok. Be back by seven.”

She one-arm hugged me. “Thanks Mom!” And out the door she went. I watched out the kitchen window until I saw her disappear into Lissa’s house, then turned back to the action at the counter.

Arsinua was frowning. “Perhaps. But it’s just a remarkable resemblance.”

“What did this Bran do? Not too often modern people get stuck with such grandiose names.” He’d cleaned his plate and had somehow convinced Arsinua to make him another sandwich. She was slathering mayo on a slice of bread as she spoke.

“He was a Council member, keeper of the Omphalos, and Great Ward of the North. He saved our cities from the incursion of the Wilds more times than any of us kept track of, and he held more magic in his hand, than I have access to in my entire body.”

“Uh. Arsinua?”

Dad shushed me, his eyes gleaming. He always did love a story. I didn’t know what Arsinua was thinking, telling him about magic and her world. I hoped he’d buy that she was pulling his leg, or things could get weird. I had enough on my hands with my children and the runaway magic. I didn’t need a curious parent digging into the business.

She looked down at the knife and bread in her hands, and her face flushed red. “Oh.” Her startled gaze flew to mine, eyes wide.

“Well go on,” my father urged. “What then?”

She licked her lips and swiped at the bread, though her movements were jerky. “He fell in love with a Wydling woman. It was forbidden, considered by many to be a challenge to the Council itself. He was tried and sentenced to death, he and his bride. They fled into the Wilds before the sentence could be carried out.” Her teeth sunk into her bottom lip as she laid the bread on a plate and piled slices of ruby red tomatoes and gleaming onion before adding ham and roast beef. “They sent mercenaries after them and those mercs always came back, drained and defeated. Eventually, the Council declared him dead and his name was wiped from existence.” She laid the last slice of bread on top of the stacked cold cuts. Silence stretched.

Dad drummed his fingers on the counter. When Arsinua stayed silent, he prompted, “Well?”

She blinked. “Well?”

“That can’t be the end of it.”

She stared at him, the mayo covered knife in her hand forgotten. “Well, it is.”

Dad slapped a hand on the countertop. “If that were true, how would people know about him? His name was wiped from existence. Okay. Then how do people pass on the stories about him? Listen, I may be an old guy but if I’m going to be mistaken for some cool dude in a story, I don’t want it to be a crappy story.”

“Dad, she doesn’t know you very well. She might think you’re serious.”

“I am serious.” He leaned in and tapped a finger on the counter. “Why is he important?”

A glance at me, a shoulder shrug. “Some of us hold him up as a hero. He was the first witch to suggest that our control over the magic would destroy us and he fought for change. He predicted that people would get desperate and would start stealing humans for power. He was right about many things.” She cut the sandwich into half and slid the plate to him, a tentative smile on her face. “Anyway, that’s just a story.”

Dad spun the plate around a few times until he found the perfect side to his sandwich, I guess, then picked it up. “‘The Council tried to wipe the name of Bran the Forsworn from the minds of the people, but Bran’s legacy would never die. His memory kept the small flame of hope alive in the breasts of a few rebels who would not accept the status quo.’”

From the look on Arsinua’s face, I understood that Dad had hit home with her. She was one of those rebels. She and Zech and others I’d never met. Before her silence and the look of pain on her face alerted Dad to something wrong, I scooted around to take the knife from her and gently guide her to the sink to wash her hands. The running water gave her something to do and I patted her shoulder. “My dad dabbles as a writer.”

“Dabbles nothing.” With a snap of his wrist, he took off a sheet of paper towel to wipe his mouth with. “There might be something else I came to Omaha for.” He pulled a phone from his pocket—my dad had an actual smart phone—and did some swiping before holding the screen out to me. “I wrote and published a book. Dev, your old man is a published author.”

FOUR

When Travis came home, he and Dad disappeared downstairs for some sports and man time. With Bethy at Lissa’s and Liam upstairs, I pulled Arsinua aside. “What was that?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just he looked so much like the crystalgraphs of Bran. I couldn’t help it.”

I raised my eyebrows. “You couldn’t help it.”

She ran her fingers through her wild hair. “You don’t understand. He was such a hero to those of us trying to figure out how to change things.”

“Uh huh. And what about Wydlings? You said he married one.”

“No hero is perfect.”

“Really? You too? You do remember I’m dating a Wydling.”

Her lips thinned. “No hero is perfect.”

I think my mouth dropped open. I wasn’t sure, I was too busy being stunned. “After everything that’s happened, after all we’ve done, you’re still hanging onto old prejudices?”

“The Wydlings are dangerous. It’s one thing to want a relaxation of control around the magic, it’s a whole other thing to allow wild creatures into society.” She took a step back, which annoyed me. What did she think I was going to do, smack her? “Your experience notwithstanding, I know the Wydlings have been responsible for many deaths along the borderlands.”

“Oh really. How do you know that?”

“What? I’ve heard reports.”

I thought of some of the craziness I’d seen at the borders. The slave traders. “Have you ever been down there?”

“Of course not. I was needed in the city. I didn’t have time to travel to the borderlands. Had no desire to. What are you implying? That you know more about my world than I do?”

I studied my fingernails to keep from having to look at her. “Maybe I do.”

“You don’t. Think on it. You still keep that Skriven around when I’ve told you a million times not to trust him, that he’s dangerous.”

“He may be, but he’s also saved my ass several times over. So has Kroshtuka and his people. If your prejudice has left you that wrong about the Wydlings, then maybe you’re wrong about Tytan, too.” I didn’t honestly think she was wrong about Tytan, because I’d seen him in action. But honestly, her bigotry would’ve closed many doors and cost me my life had I listened to her about the Wydlings or Ty.

She surprised me by grabbing my arms, her face close, her expression earnest. “Please don’t let any argument we have blind you to that Skriven’s evil ways. I beg you.”

I didn’t get a chance to reply. Travis and Dad’s voices caught our attention. The men topped the stairs, arguing about the game they’d just watched. Arsinua stepped away, but not before whispering, “Please.”

I gave her a short nod but promised nothing. Travis slipped his arms around her and she leaned close to him. I wondered what she would think about my conversation with Tytan this afternoon, and decided I wouldn’t tell her any more than I had to when it came to my spawn.

***

After I had oohed and aahed over Dad’s book—he had a signed paperback for me in his suitcase—I promised to read it first chance I had. Dad went to bed shortly after Travis, Arsinua, and the kids. Alone at last, I went upstairs and slipped into sweatpants. Then I called Danni to ask her how she was doing and what Zech had been up to.

Zech had buried lodestones around her apartment building and had them sitting on all the windowsills, she told me. “The air feels charged, like it does during a lightning storm,” Danni said.

“How are you holding up?”

“Okay, I guess. I’m so glad Zech is here and that there’s is magic to protect me. It’s strange, though, that I’m staying in one place and not running. Devany, running kept me alive. This is, it’s—” She took a deep breath. “Unnatural.”

“There’s always Midia.”

“I know.”

And Tytan. If Tytan found Harrison, Danni would never have to worry about him again.

I really hoped Ty found him.

Really, really.

“Anything happens, you change your mind. Anything, let me know.” She didn’t answer right away and the silence told me something else was going on. “What is it?”

“I don’t know. Exactly. Zech and I have been careful. If we go out, we go together. He scans the apartment and the area around it with magic first to make sure there isn’t anything wrong but …”

“But?”

“It feels wrong. Not the magic; I’ve kind of gotten used to that.” A self-deprecating laugh. “Maybe I’m just jumpy.”

“Tell me what you’re seeing, Danni.”

“I haven’t seen anything, that’s just it. It’s a feeling of wrongness. I can’t put my finger on it and I’ve been dismissing it as nerves but I didn’t survive Harrison by ignoring my intuition. And something is telling me we’re being watched.”

“The barriers Zech put up haven’t been triggered?”

“No. Well, Dorothy downstairs hosted her book club last week; her guests triggered the alarms, so we know the barrier is working. And Zech linked the barrier to a bell hanging in the bedroom. It rang when the ladies drove up. Otherwise, it’s been quiet. No ringing.”

“But your intuition is telling you something is going on.”

“Yes,” she whispered.

“How far out does the barrier go?”

“To the street on the north and west. To the next apartment building on the east and it covers the parking lot to the south.”

“So, someone could stand across the street and watch you without triggering it.”

“The cops are looking for him; they’re doing extra patrols.”

“What if it’s not Harrison? What if it’s one of his little internet buddies?”

She was silent. Thinking, probably, of someone watching her and feeling creeped out all over again.

“Let the police know you think someone is watching your place. Ask them to keep an eye out for people other than Harrison showing an interest in your apartment. Okay?”