Betrayed in Blood (Of Blood & Dreams #6)

Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

I stripped out of my gear and took a shower. If I’d known teasing Venizi’s vamps would be that much fun, I’d have offered suggestions to Bella weeks ago. I hadn’t expected the local gang to be so helpful, but then Levi mentioned El Lobo held Friday street parties, hauling out the coolers of beer and the grill mid-afternoon and dragging everything back to the clubhouse well after midnight. The gang was responsible for the carne asada street tacos while the vamps grilled organic hamburgers and brats.

I laughed when Levi said the vamps went completely vegan all week in preparation for the party. Since it lasted so long into the evening, all the vamps were able to attend either before or after their guard duty. The weekly event had built camaraderie in the neighborhood, and then Bella mentioned that much of the contract work on the safe house was performed by various El Lobo members. It was a win-win that Venizi would never understand since he considered humans only one step above shifters in his species ranking.

Devon wanted to meet with the cadre after the incident at the safe house to discuss more security changes to ensure El Lobos and the rest of the neighborhood were notified of future issues. Whether the gang wanted to get involved or not was up to them at that point. When I’d heard Sergi had several options he wanted to review, I begged off with the excuse I didn’t want to let Lyra down by missing our planned happy hour, especially with her missing Hamilton so much. Devon saw right through my ruse, but he simply kissed my cheek before disappearing into his office.

I towel-dried my hair, leaving it to dry on its own, and put on leggings and one of Devon’s shirts I’d pilfered from his closet. I cycled through them, changing them out when his scent faded. If he noticed, he never said anything. I wore them when I was alone in my room, the smell of cinnamon and cloves reminding me of the first time I’d seen him, and the memory always comforted me. It was strange I felt the need to wear one now.

I grabbed my phone and sat on the bed, my back against the headboard as I checked messages while waiting for Ginger. I wasn’t expecting any, but sometimes Harlow or Trudy checked in. What I was hoping for was a message from my mother.

There was one from Harlow, and I laughed out loud when he mentioned working a job with Calypso. That was always a trainwreck. Calypso ran a small crew on the north side of town. She was never prepared, usually had bad intel, yet somehow never got caught. Harlow typically ran a job with her about once a year and always swore never again. But a job would come along that was too good to pass up, and he’d give in.

It was surprising he risked it, considering how much money they’d accumulated from the few jobs he’d worked with House Trelane, but Harlow was always saving for that island getaway. They’d also moved to a nicer neighborhood, so rent was steeper. Based on his cryptic message and foul language, nothing had changed with Calypso, and they’d barely gotten away. Sounded about right. At least they were safe.

I was considering trying Mom, even though she told me not to, when my phone pinged. A text from an unknown number. Worried it might be my mother contacting me, I opened it.

Rasmussen is in trouble and needs your help.

I stared at it. What the fuck?

I was still staring at the phone, my brain frozen seeing my father’s name on the screen, when the door popped open.

“I hope you’re in the mood for margaritas,” Ginger called out in a sing-song voice as she strode through the door. “I just made a pitcher in Lyra’s kitchen. She should be down in a minute, and Cook is sending up some food.” Ginger stopped when she caught my frozen stare. “Cressa? What’s wrong?” She set down the tray and raced over.

I stared up at her, but I couldn’t seem to get any words out.

She glanced at the phone I gripped in my hands. “You’re worrying me. Is it your mother?”

I managed to shake my head and finally spit out, “My father.”

Ginger pried the phone from my hand, but I didn’t put up much resistance. She scanned the message. “It’s from an unknown number.”

I nodded and stared out the window. What kind of trouble would he be in? Had someone discovered he was a dreamwalker?

“I didn’t think anyone knew about your father.” Ginger sat on the bed. “Cressa, do you hear me?”

“Here I am. I brought another glass in case Anna finishes her work early.” Lyra waltzed in, and somehow, through the haze of neurons bursting in my head, I noted her good mood. “What’s wrong?” She set down the glass and rushed over. “Did she get hurt on the raid?”

“No.” Ginger handed her the phone. “I think we have a problem.”

Ginger handed me a glass of her specialty margarita, and it cleared the daze. Now the three of us sat around the fireplace where I’d curled up on one end of the sofa, thankful for whatever possessed me to wear Devon’s shirt.

The soft scent of Devon calmed me while Ginger and Lyra set out plates from the tray Cook had sent up. The aroma of something spicy snapped me into the present.

“That smells great.” I sat up and glanced around, rubbing my head, my hair still damp. “I’m sorry. I think I lost it there for a moment.”

Ginger glanced at Lyra. “It was more than a moment, but as long as you’re with us now.” She pushed a plate of mini burritos and street tacos toward me. Cook must have heard about El Lobo. “Eat something, or that margarita will drop you back to Oz or wherever you went.”

“Who’s Rasmussen?” Lyra asked.

I glanced up. “Didn’t Ginger tell you?”

“No. She wanted to wait until you could participate in the conversation. I take it this person is someone important to you.”

“He’s my father.”

If Lyra was surprised, she didn’t show it. That vamp stoicism ran strong in her. “When was the last time you heard from him?”

I laughed then took a gulp of my drink. “Never. He left my mother when I was very young.” I ran a hand through my hair then played with the ends as I dredged up long-dead memories. “He had eyes the color of brandy, and they crinkled at the edges when he flashed his wide grin. He always seemed to be smiling.” I stared at my drink. “It’s weird. I can’t remember his voice, but a strange melody plays in my head whenever I think of him, which is rarely, and surprisingly, even with discovering I’m a dreamwalker like him, I haven’t thought of him in months.” But I remembered the melody. Something from my dreams.

“That’s odd that you would receive a text from him after all this time.” Lyra picked up my phone. “It’s an unknown number. Could it be from your mother?”

I shrugged. “I have her number programmed in the phone. It’s possible she called from another one, but why not tell me it’s her?”

“Who else knows about Rasmussen?” Ginger asked. “I thought it was just your mother.”

“Devon and Sergi, maybe all the cadre. Sergi ran a background check on me when I first came to the manor. He ran into a dead end when he tracked my father.” I considered Colantha, trying to remember what she’d told me when we’d first met. “Colantha knew of him. At least, she knew my family name was Rasmussen. I didn’t get the sense she knew his whereabouts.”

“What about April?” Ginger swallowed a big gulp and sputtered a cough. “Wow, I made this batch rather strong.”

I snorted. “They’re always this strong.” I took another sip. The bite of the tequila was working its magic. “April would only have known if my mother said something.” I shot them both a worried glance. “There’s something going on in that house that my mother won’t talk about. I think April might be working with Venizi.”

This brought more worried glances between the two. I couldn’t blame them. It troubled me, too. The thought of my father being out there—still alive—was more than I could bear. But it was most likely a sham, and it was best not to get my hopes up.

“They’re trying to lure you out.” Lyra finished her glass and poured more. Damn vamps and their ability to drink alcohol like it was water. “If April is working for Venizi, maybe this is another way to get to Devon.”

“We might be getting ahead of ourselves.” Ginger bit into the mini burrito and talked around it. “April and your mother might have nothing to do with this.”

Lyra and I both stared at her like what else could be going on. Ginger was all about conspiracies and gossip. She gave us a rueful smile.

“Sorry. It’s possible that Lucas’s need to consider all the angles seems to be wearing off on me.”

“Well, that’s not a bad thing, but there’s not many other options that I can think of.” I took a long slow sip of the tangy drink. “Did you put chili in this?”

“A bit. I like the extra spice.”

“We need my brother.” Lyra, still holding my phone, typed into it. “Is he still in a meeting with the cadre?”

“Did you just send him a text?” I wasn’t sure whether to be appalled, nervous, or grateful. Did I want to share this with the cadre? That was stupid. We were on lockdown, at war with Venizi, and I get this message about my deadbeat dad. Yeah, the cadre had to get involved.

Lyra placed the phone on the coffee table and picked up a crab roll. “He’s almost finished and told us to wait for him.”

Ginger snorted. “As if we’re going anywhere before we finish the pitcher.”

We all laughed at the notion and the last of the tension the margaritas hadn’t been able to remove finally released. Then a different thought came to me. I gave Lyra a closer look. There was concern in her expression, but there was a soft glow. And it wasn’t her beast.

“You seem rather cheerful.”

Her melodic laugh proved my point. “It’s nothing and certainly not as important as the text you received.”

“Don’t bullshit a bullshitter. You have good news.”

Ginger scooted up in her seat. “You’re right. I noticed it when she walked in, but I was focused on the text. Well, and the fact you’d turned into a zombie.”

I laughed. “Not a zombie, but yeah, I might have zoned out a bit.” I turned my attention back to Lyra, who was obviously dying to tell us something. “Is it Hamilton?” I was almost too nervous to ask. Lyra had a mercurial mood that one never wanted to push to the dark side.

She nodded, her joy radiating from her. “He dreamwalked with me. We talked for almost an hour.” She reached out and gripped our hands. “He had a breakthrough and hopes to return here in the next few weeks.”

“That’s wonderful news.” Ginger refilled our glasses, emptying the last of the pitcher. “Did he mention what the breakthrough was, or is that too personal?”

“He didn’t say it in so many words, but I believe he’s come to accept that the decades he’s lost isn’t anything he can change.” She shrugged and sipped her drink, then stretched like a cat, her arms rising above her head as she burrowed into her seat. “Acceptance. He meditates a lot and dreamwalks with others, learning to gain his power back.” She gave us one of those looks that said she was holding something back, unsure whether to share.

“Go ahead,” I encouraged. “You’re among friends here.”

“He said I was his inspiration.” She stared at her lap, her fingers interlacing. When she looked up, her eyes glowed with unshed tears. “Why would he say that?”

“Oh, honey,. Ginger moved to sit on the arm of Lyra’s chair and put an arm around her. “Is it because of your own struggles during that time?”

She nodded, but words appeared difficult for her.

I ran for the bathroom and came out with a box of tissues, dropping it in her lap. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’ve had your own demons to battle, and just when you were getting to a place where you felt normal, you were handed a huge burden becoming the House leader. And you faced it with grace, courage, and loyalty. Who wouldn’t look to you for inspiration?”

Lyra shrugged. “You make it sound so honorable. I was terrified the whole time.”

Ginger laughed and hugged her. “That’s what makes you so amazing. A lot of people push their fear aside to do amazing things. I think Hamilton is right to look to you for his recovery. Not just as his lover but as the strong female that you are.”

“Devon’s never afraid.”

I snorted. “He’s been leading men into battles for centuries.” I considered my next words, not wanting to share Devon’s perceived weaknesses with his sister, but there was one thing she’d understand. Something I could only sympathize with when I remembered the first time I wore my medallion, and someone took control of me during a dreamwalk.

“He was terrified when the beast took over while he’d been addicted to the Poppy, and he thought he might never regain his physical form or mental acuity. You know this.”

“When Lucas was severely injured,” Ginger stopped and swallowed two gulps of her drink. We were officially on the path to Wasted Land. “I was terrified he was going to die. It’s not nearly the same as your struggles after such a great loss of your parents and Hamilton, but we have to give ourselves time to heal. All I know is that when our loved ones are on the line, and the road is dark, we always find a way to pull ourselves up. We do what we have to do for those around us. Be Hamilton’s inspiration, because that’s what you are.”

Lyra pulled more tissues and wiped at her eyes. Then she gulped two swallows of her drink. “Sometimes I wish I could get drunk.”

I glanced at Ginger, and we both busted up as I handed her the empty pitcher. She knew what to do. Then I gave Lyra my sternest look, which might have been some funky leer. “That’s only because you’re not trying hard enough.”