Heir of Ashes (The Roxanne Fosch Files #1)

Chapter 27

By the time we reached New York, night was in full swing in the city that never sleeps. Roland dropped Vincent and me off at the Plaza Hotel, where he’d reserved two connecting rooms for the night. He would return in the morning to take us to the base so I could sign my contract and officially become a Hunter.

Looking down at Central Park at night, I dialed Logan’s number from memory, telling myself I just wanted to confirm Roland hadn’t lied to me.

The line rang twice. “Yeah?” a familiar voice answered. It wasn’t the one I was expecting to hear.

“Rafael? It’s Roxanne. Where’s Logan?”

“He went out,” he replied, his tone cool.

“I see,” I said, telling myself that the pang of disappointment I felt was actually irritation that Rafael wasn’t bubbling with gratitude for my timely intervention. “You guys … made it out all right?”

“Yeah. We’re good.”

“Okay,” I said, forcing myself to loosen the tight grip I had on the phone. “That’s good. I just wanted to make sure Logan was fine.”

He grunted. “I’ll tell him you called,” he said and disconnected.

I frowned down at the phone, then considered knocking on Vincent’s door, demanding all the answers I needed—and was due—but I knew there were personal questions he wouldn’t be able to answer. But someone else could, and I contemplated how to lose my escort.

Bracing a hand on the window, I watched the silent activity of the busy night in the city that would become my home for the next decade—and began to plan. The night was alive with activity, skyscrapers glowing and dominating the sky, blotting out any trace of stars or clouds. The streets were choked with vehicles, and despite the late hour, the sidewalks were filled with people, seemingly undeterred by the chill in the air.

A man jogged into the park, an enormous white dog running beside him.

Maybe I should get a pet. A cat, since they weren’t as dependent as dogs. The jogger and the dog disappeared into the park, and I let the idea take root inside me. A cat. A white one, I decided, chuckling as the memory of the Low Lands and the name I’d given the little winged creatures surfaced.

“Frizz,” I murmured. “I’d name him Frizz.” No sooner had the name left my lips than the air beside me began to shimmer—like heat waves on hot asphalt, until it solidified into a small figure. I gasped, dropping the phone and jumping back. The air around me became charged with ozone and ear-popping pressure, and I found myself staring down at a creature no larger than a toddler.

“Massster. You sssummoned,” the creature hissed.

“Frizz. Oh my God, what are you doing here?”

The connecting door opened and Vincent poked his head into my room. “I heard a noise,” he said. “Everything okay?”

I looked between Vincent and Frizz, realizing that he wasn’t a bit surprised or concerned by the creature crouched just feet away.

“He’s the shadow!” I accused indignantly. “You were talking about Frizz!”

Vincent raised his eyebrows high on his forehead, causing them to almost disappear beneath his hairline. “Whatever made you name a shadow?”

“He didn’t have one,” I replied simply.

The amused look in his eyes made my back stiffen.

I looked back at Frizz and frowned. Dozens of random questions danced in my head all at once. What would Vincent think if I told him I had named eleven other creatures after cartoon characters? Had I just stepped on him? Thank God he couldn’t attack someone he was bound to.

“I heard a yelp.” Vincent asked again, breaking into my dizzying thoughts.

“I stepped on his tail,” I said and watched his eyes for any signs of alarm.

There were none. He grunted and returned to his room, leaving me alone with Frizz.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“Massster,” Frizz hissed.

Master? I stared at him. Had he called me master before in the Low Lands? I was pretty sure he hadn’t. I shook my head. “I freed you from your duties to me. Why did you follow? And I thought you couldn’t travel between worlds.”

“I bound to you. I give you loyalty. Massster.”

I stifled a shudder. How to get rid of him was the question I should figure out, not why.

“If I free you from your bondage, will you leave?”

“I bound to Massster. I go with Massster.”

I racked my mind for a solution. And then I had it. “If I order you to do something, you will obey?”

“Yesss, Massster.”

“Then I order you to become free and return to the Low Lands, back to your flock.”

He stood—or crouched—there, unblinking.

“I am ordering you to be free, to go back to the Low Lands and not owe me any loyalty.”

Nothing happened. “So what?” I threw my hands up in frustration. “You’ll follow me around for eternity?”

“Yessss, Massster,” he hissed.

“If I make a wish you can fulfill, will you leave afterward?”

He didn’t answer. I glanced out the window and thought about the havoc and carnage Frizz could cause. “If I touch you by mistake, will you attack me?” I asked, just to be clear.

“No. I give you loyalty, Massster.”

“How about if someone else touches you by mistake or steps on your tail? Will you attack them?”

“With your permission. Massster.”

I closed my eyes. “No. You don’t have my permission. You will not attack anyone. No one, not even if they step on you.” I hesitated a moment, then added, “You stay invisible until I say otherwise. Do you understand?”

“Yesss, Massster,” he said and disappeared.

“We’ll get you some food tomorrow,” I said to the empty air. If he had been with me since we’d left the Low Lands, it meant he had gone without food ever since. He could be under my command and not attack anyone, but what would happen if he became too hungry to care? When would too hungry be too much? I didn’t want to find out.

After I took a long, hot shower, I fell face down on the bed and stayed that way until Vincent’s knock roused me in the morning.

***

Once I signed the revised contract, Roland and Vincent took me to my new apartment, just a few blocks away from the Hunters’ base in upper-east Manhattan.

It was a two-bedroom, ground-floor unit in a ten-story residential building near the East River. I had my own separate side entrance and a backdoor, both painted pale yellow with light brown shutters on the windows. The front door opened into an adequately sized kitchen, separated from a furnished living room by a half wall. A short hallway led to two bedrooms across from each other and a cream-tiled bathroom at the end. There was a laundry room off the kitchen, which in turn led to the outside. The apartment was clean, the furniture new, and the appliances still had their tags.

And it was all mine.

I loved it.

Before leaving, Roland handed me an envelope containing legal papers, a copy of the contract, and an advance paycheck in case I needed to buy things. I nearly dropped the envelope when I saw a brooding photo of myself on my new ID—an NSA credential. Holy shit, I was an NSA agent!

What really surprised me was that Vincent left with Roland. I had expected he would be some sort of guard until they were sure I wouldn’t run away. Then again, they didn’t just call themselves the Hunters for nothing.

***

A few hours later, I boarded a flight to Sacramento. My nerves were taut as I found myself in an enclosed space with Frizz and a plane full of people. Though Frizz had fed well that morning and obeyed my commands, the anxiety gnawed at me until we finally touched down without incident.

I breathed a sigh of relief and felt easier after leaving the crowded airport altogether. While I waited for a cab, I placed a call to Tommy using my newly-acquired cellphone. After giving the cab driver directions, I sat back, closed my eyes, and began pondering the logistics of keeping Frizz as a pet—at least until I found a way to get rid of him. I’d have to buy him some doggy shampoo and make him take showers. Remo Drammen had said those creatures were valuable once they owed a person a favor. Well, I had Frizz’s loyalty and gratitude. How valuable could he be to me?

“We’re here, Missy,” the cabby said.

I opened my eyes and looked at the big house. After paying my fare generously, I climbed out and hesitated. The last time I’d come here, things hadn’t ended well for me.

“Would you like me to wait?” the cabby asked, leaning to look at me through the passenger window.

“No, that’s alright,” I told him and watched him drive away. Shifting back to the house, I inhaled deeply. “They can’t hurt you,” I said under my breath and marched toward the iron gate. I buzzed the intercom and looked straight at the camera. A moment later, the gates swung open, granting me silent invitation.

Elizabeth Whitmore Longlan met me at the door. “I thought you’d be back,” she said by way of greeting.

I studied her silently. The blonde hair, the thin face, high cheekbones, and her slender athletic body. The only thing we had in common was the long, almond-shaped black eyes—depthless eyes. People said the eyes were gateways to the soul. In my case—the Rejected case—it was more than that; it specified the nature within. Elizabeth stood there, waiting for my assessment to be over. She was poised, her demeanor conveying both elegance and arrogance as she watched me in turn.

“Would you like to come in?” she offered politely.

“I’d prefer if you cut the crap and dropped the pretense.”

If I hadn’t been looking for it, I would have missed the brief flicker of surprise—there one moment, then quickly gone. “I don’t know what you mean,” she said.

“I mean the human aura. You don’t need a disguise. I know the truth.”

Her eyes shifted nervously behind me.

Well, well, well. Look at this. The same person who had exposed me to the world seemed to prize her own privacy. Wasn’t that interesting?

“Come in,” she snapped, her composure cracking as she opened the door wide.

I stepped inside and turned to face her as she closed the heavy door behind me. I folded my arms under my breasts and waited.

“So?” I prompted when she just eyed me in turn.

Her blue aura shimmered briefly, then began to shine with a silvery sheen on top of the plain blue.

Son of a bitch. I knew it! When our eyes met again, hers flashed yellow, gaining a feral, alien look for a moment before reverting to black. It gave me a jolt, even though I had been expecting it.

“Satisfied?”

I inclined my head. “Partly.” Until that moment, I hadn’t been completely sure. Lee’s words about being raised by one of my own kind, Vincent’s ability to disguise his aura, and the fact every Rejected I’d met shared one common trait—black eyes—all pointed to the truth. Plus, hadn’t she known who Logan was? She had referred to him as “your mixed-breed companion,” and he had known who she was all along.

“Come on back. I’ll prepare some tea,” she said, making her way to the back of the house. I followed, observing the way her blue aura shimmered with a silver tone.

Did my aura do that? Or did being a mixed breed give me a different type of aura?

“How did you know?” she glanced back at me over her shoulder. “Did Vincent tell you? I heard he’s been trying to help you.” The hint of disapproval in her voice told me she wasn’t pleased about it.

“No, not really. I’ve been piecing things together, but the biggest clue came from a woman a few days ago.”

She started preparing tea in her spacious white kitchen and motioned for me to sit. I took off the beige coat I’d bought at the airport to replace my lost black one and draped it over the back of the closest chair.

“Where’s the child?” I asked. Even her daughter had black eyes, I remembered.

“School,” she replied stiffly.

Touchy subject. “And the husband?” Or boyfriend—black eyes.

“Work. We’re alone.”

I nodded. She worked in silence while I watched her. Her meticulous movements—so familiar and yet so alien after all these years—reminded me of when I was a child, eating at a different table, in a different house, while she cleaned and talked about her day at work.

She dropped two herbal bags into each cup, placed the cups on saucers, poured boiling water into the cups, and arranged cookies on a plate, along with a bowl of sugar cubes, spoons, and a pitcher of cream. She brought them over to the table on an ornate silver and gold tray.

“So, what did this woman say that tipped the scales?” she asked.

“That one of my kind took me in after my father was punished for refusing to fulfill his end of the bargain.”

She paused with a cube of sugar mid-air, her dark eyes showing traces of alarm before she resumed the motion, dropping one cube, then another, into a cup.

I focused on the plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies—my favorite.

“Who? Who told you that?” she asked, casually stirring the sugar, though tension began to build in the room. She passed me one of the cups on a saucer, and I thanked her. I missed coffee. I took a sip. It was sweet and tasted like—well, herbs.

“Who is this woman? What else did she tell you?”

I took another sip and studied her over the rim of the cup. “About what happened to my father. How he died.” I gave her a meaningful look. “The whole truth—about the broken bargain, the council, the Sidhe royalty, and the punishment.”

She was silent for a long time. When she finally spoke, her voice was defensive. “You could hardly have expected me to tell you the truth under the circumstances. Besides, telling a child her father died protecting her might have had a negative effect on her psyche. You were better off knowing the story the general public knew.” She frowned at me. “But very few know the truth. Who is this woman?”

“Her name is Leon Ora Maiche.” Her only reaction was the jerk of her hand—which she tried to cover by pulling the spoon from her cup and placing it neatly on the saucer. Then her hand curled into a tight fist, and her eyes narrowed in recognition.

“You made a bargain with a high Sidhe in exchange for information about your father? You foolish child. Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Her reprimanding words had my hackles rising. Who did she think she was, scolding me as if I were a naughty child? Resentment and guilt for dealing with the same kind who had killed my father roiled inside me. If Elizabeth had taught me, I wouldn’t have needed to bargain with a Sidhe in the first place. My anger, born from guilt and fueled by her words, spiked a notch.

“I wouldn’t know,” I snapped. “All people tell me are useless lies. My entire life has been built on deceit. At least Lee didn’t pretend or lie or try to evade me. She was blunt and honest.” I felt a flicker of satisfaction at her guilty expression. “But why assume that I bargained for the information? Maybe she offered it to me freely.”

She scoffed. “None of the Sidhe offer information freely. They hoard knowledge as much as life, riches, or even their pure-blooded offspring. The only way to get them talking is by bargaining, by offering them something in return. To them, information and knowledge are both power and weapon.”

I nodded. I had figured as much. “I didn’t bargain with her for knowledge.” There was no need to tell her that my bargain was for her assistance in helping me leave the Low Lands.

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed, searching my face for any trace of a lie. “You expect me to believe the Sidhe lady offered to fulfill your curiosity for free? No strings attached?” Her voice dripped with skepticism.

I scowled.

“No, she granted me a boon—a single truth about anything. I asked about my father.” Unable to resist any longer, I picked up a cookie and took a bite. It tasted exactly as I remembered—like innocence and childhood. I had never tasted chocolate chip cookies as good as these. Maybe if I asked, she’d give me the recipe. Now that I had a home, I could start cooking my own meals and baking my own treats.

“Where did you meet her?” she pressed, still suspicious.

I savored the cookie, prolonging the suspense. “In the Low Lands.”

“Ah.” She nodded. “That’s where you picked up the shadow,” she concluded, as if it explained everything.

I supposed it did. I looked around me. I couldn’t see Frizz. “How come everyone can see Frizz except me?”

“Frizz? You named a shadow?” she asked, incredulous.

“What’s wrong with that?”

After a pause, she replied dubiously, “I guess nothing. Why the boon?”

“I accidentally solved a problem for her.”

She raised her perfectly arched eyebrows and waited. I could still see the skepticism lurking in her expression.

I shrugged and picked another cookie. God, it tasted even better than the first one. I managed to keep my eyes from crossing—barely. “I took care of someone without realizing he had broken a rule and was earmarked for punishment. She granted me one question to be answered truthfully.”

She grunted, satisfied with my answer. “She wouldn’t have liked being in anyone’s debt. How did you get the shadow?”

I stopped chewing, then locked eyes with her. “I fed him that someone.”

That caught her attention. “Who?”

I eyed her for any sign of disgust or revulsion. I found none. She looked genuinely curious.

She was mid-sip when I replied, “Dr. Dean and Remo Drammen.”

Tea spewed from her mouth as she choked violently. I got up, filled a glass of water, and brought it to her. She stared at me, stupefied. I shifted uncomfortably from side to side. I had to remind myself I was no longer a child and this woman was not my mother before I could lift my eyes from the ground and face her.

“They deserved it,” I said defensively.

“I guess that explains why there aren’t any of his watchdogs sniffing around the house.”

I paused. So, she didn’t know about the botched break-in and my contract with the Hunters.

“But Drammen—how?”

“I guess I took them by surprise.”

After the shock wore off, she asked the important question, “Why were Dr. Michael Dean and Drammen together in the Low Lands? And you?”

“Dr. Dean sold me to Remo Drammen, and the Low Lands was their rendezvous point.”

Elizabeth’s black eyes darkened with anger. I wondered if my eyes looked like that when I was furious too.

“What did he give Dr. Michael Dean?” she asked.

“Archer.”

Her face jerked back as if an invisible hand had slapped her, and her eyes widened in shock, showing the whites all around. I doubted she’d had as many surprising revelations in her lifetime as she had in the past half hour.

“That boy was telling the truth. The PSS does have Archer,” she murmured to herself.

I gathered “that boy” was Logan.

“We thought he was exaggerating. We assumed he’d had gone somewhere to unwind and didn’t want anyone to know.” Then she straightened and got up. “I need to make a phone call.”

“He’s alright. He’s not there anymore. He’s out.”

She paused with her hand on the phone and looked at me. “You?”

I shrugged. “Not for him.”

Apparently, my word wasn’t enough. She took the phone and walked out of the kitchen. I heard the name “Ruben” before a distant door banged shut.

When she returned five minutes later, only two cookies remained on the previously full plate.

“I called an urgent meeting for next week,” she said briskly. “The message will be passed on to Archer. Let’s hope you’re right.”

They thought next week was urgent? I shrugged. Not my problem. “So tell me … what am I?” I asked after she settled back down to finish her cold tea.

“And don’t tell me I’m the offspring of a human and a Rejected,” I snapped when she opened her mouth. “I want to know what the Rejected are and everything you can tell me about myself.”

She stared into her cup for a moment. “I suppose you deserve to know. Where do you want me to start?”

“From the beginning. Why Rejected?”

She nodded once. “Very well. We’ll start from our origin. Ever heard about the Seelie and the Unseelie?”

“Assume I haven’t.”

“The Seelie and Unseelie are two factions of the fae, originally from the Sidhe land, a world that is parallel and in sync with this one. The Sidhe land is divided horizontally, with the Seelie occupying the entire middle, and the Unseelie at the top. No one owns the bottom half. The Dhiultadh—the Rejected—tried to claim it.” She waved a hand dismissively. “But that is an entirely different story, maybe for some other time. The Seelie live together in harmony and peace. They are good-looking, often human-like, dress very well, and usually mind their own business. Mostly, they are civilized—in comparison to other creatures from other worlds. They occasionally find entertainment in deceiving others into owing them favors, often demanding something as valuable as a firstborn. They are powerful, deceptive, and self-serving, but mostly benign.

“The Unseelie, on the other hand, are a solitary and malevolent lot. They revel in causing pain and suffering, both to each other and others. While they lack the natural beauty of the Seelie, they are adept in the use of glamor and often change their appearances. Though some Seelie may appear less human and some Unseelie more so, the latter are primarily known for their darker, twisted nature.” She paused and took a sip of her tea. “One day, a Seelie named Verenastra, daughter of Queen Titania and one of the most beautiful Sidhe in the land, ventured too far from her home. The leader of the Unseelie, Madoc, saw her near his territory. It was a grave offense to enter another’s territory without observing the hospitality code.

“Madoc glamored himself as a lesser Seelie to lure her into a trap. He was very powerful, and no one in his land could disguise themselves as perfectly as he could. He was also the least hideous—his only differences being his bluish skin and a beast-like tattoo with sharp talons and yellow eyes on his bicep that manifested at his will. All this he concealed with glamour, which Verenastra did not see through. However, he was too shocked by her beauty, too fascinated to cause her any harm when he had the chance. He wanted to know more about her, and the more he learned, the more intriguing she became in his eyes.

“Madoc found himself meeting her in secret for a long time. Verenastra wanted him to meet her family, having dreams that they would one day be mated, but he continually refused. His glamour was excellent, but he was sure Titania would see through it. So Verenastra tricked him into meeting her mother.

“Titania saw through his disguise and exposed his true self to her daughter. Enraged, she helped her mother banish him, binding him to an eternity of loneliness and suffering beneath a frozen lake. But as time passed, the princess discovered she was carrying his child. By then, she questioned whether he deserved such a fate. After all, she was partly responsible. She had ventured far into his land without any invitation.

“After the child was born, Queen Titania couldn’t bear to look at her, so she confined the infant to a distant tower of her castle, far from her eyes and ears. But once the child grew old enough to roam the castle, Queen Titania could no longer tolerate it. She wanted to kill the abomination, but Verenastra couldn’t allow her child to be slaughtered. So, she took the child and fled, finding herself standing by the lake where she had helped imprison her lover. She plunged into the icy depths and broke his curse, setting him free. But Madoc, consumed by bitterness and rage, sought only vengeance on the one who had condemned him. When Verenastra realized there would be no reasoning or reconciliation, she took her child and fled the Sidhe land altogether.”

I had a flashback to when Dr. Dean ordered heavy dumbbells strapped around my ankles to test if I could breathe underwater. It occurred to me that he might have known a great deal about my origins. Someone had been feeding him information, and he had been testing his theories on me. It was shocking to realize that all the experiments done on me could have been based on suspicion rather than random cruelty.

“For years and years,” Elizabeth continued, “she and her child, Oonagh, who had inherited her mother’s beauty and her father’s bestial form as an alternative, roamed other worlds, avoiding Sidhe hunters and travelers. Dhiultadh—that’s what they called her and her child. Rejected, because no one wanted to claim them.

“While Madoc had been bound in the lake, Maive, Titania’s dark sister, had assumed control of the Unseelie Court. Her mate’s son, Finvarra, was exiled from the Sidhe land after her mate passed, so he couldn’t challenge her for the throne.

“In time, Oonagh met Finvarra, and they fell in love and set out on their own. Her mother, Verenastra, later mated with Elvilachious, the leader of the Tristan Star. In the Sidhe land, Queen Titania and Queen Maive decided these unions were affronts to their power and ordered their warriors to execute the offenders.

“Oonagh and Finvarra fled in different directions from her mother and her mate, who later started a new bloodline. Climate, culture, and the progression of time affected the Rejected as much as the absence of the forbidden land did. They adopted more characteristics of the lands they frequented and lost more of their Seelie and Unseelie traits. One significant change was the difficulty of conceiving children. It reached the point where, for every thousand Rejected born, there was only one Seelie or Unseelie child.

“As years turned into decades and decades into centuries, the numbers of the Rejected grew, and they no longer feared the Sidhe. They began retaliating, and the losses on both sides were nearly equal. Queen Titania and Queen Maive, weary of losing their irreplaceable warriors, called for a truce, and accord was struck: the Rejected and the Sidhe wouldn’t attack each other without provocation. Any Sidhe who broke this rule would face the wrath of their queen. The same went for the Rejected.

“However, many in the Seelie and Unseelie courts still refuse the accord and, to this day, if they can do so without being discovered, would kill one of us. Others will trick us into bargains and take away what we hold most dear.”

Elizabeth’s eyes grew distant, and I wondered if she was thinking about my father. I certainly was. I thought about my bargain with Lee and realized my monumental mistake. I recognized now how lacking my terms were, but there was nothing I could do after the bargain had already been struck.

“You’re telling me there are two kinds of Rejected?”

“There are two Dhiultadh clans, yes. The Seelie Dhiultadh, descendants of Verenastra and Elvilachious, and the Unseelie Dhiultadh, descendants of Oonagh and Finvarra.” I raised my eyebrows when she fell silent. She gave me a faint smile. “We’re descendants of Oonagh and Finvarra. Your father, in fact, was their great-great-grandson. He lived a long time resisting human women, which is why the knowledge of the bargain shocked us.”

“Do you know what he bargained for?”

“No. No one does. But he bargained with Oberon, Queen Titania’s consort, so it must have been something big. No one even knew about your mother and the pregnancy until Oberon called forth the High Council.” She shrugged, her discomfort evident. This topic seemed to trouble her a great deal. Maybe she truly cared about my father. “But Oberon found out and demanded his due, which your father refused. It was only then, when Oberon needed witnesses to carry on the punishment, that we discovered the bargain.”

I sipped my cold tea, noting the resentment in Elizabeth’s eyes. I could tell she blamed me for what happened to my father.

“Lee told me my father accused Oberon of stealing my mother’s essence. He claimed she hadn’t been human when he met her.”

Elizabeth’s eyes narrowed. “Is that true?”

“That’s what Lee said my father’s reasoning had been. That and the fact that my mother was his mate.”

Shocked, Elizabeth straightened. “What are you saying?”

“Only what Lee told me. She also mentioned that if my mother was his mate, she couldn’t tell, and that Oberon denied sending this particular human to my father. No Sidhe, Seelie or Unseelie, can tamper with a preternatural’s essence. Lee called it a dark deed.”

Elizabeth was quiet for a moment, contemplating my words. Then she inhaled and shrugged. “Lee wouldn’t have lied to you. A Sidhe cannot—actually lacks the capability to—tap into someone else’s essence. It’s what makes every individual unique. To take that away, or even to tap into it, requires dark magic. A sorcerer of dark power would be needed for that. A Sidhe is capable of many things, but black magic is not among them.” She took a contemplative sip of her tea and shook her head. “No, sorcerers are the black sheep of the preternatural world. They are not welcome among any other, much less among Sidhe royalty.”

“Lee mentioned something along those lines.”

“Oberon could have sought retribution based on those accusations alone. I don’t know what got into Fosch during his last years. He wasn’t acting like himself. It’s surprising Oberon didn’t bring that up in front of the High Council—just one more point to hold against us.” She sipped her tea, a flicker of grief in her eyes.

I left her to her thoughts for a moment and finished the last two cookies on the plate, manners be damned.

“The alternative form, the one Oonagh got from her father, is that of a six-legged bear-like creature?”

“Yes. How did you know?” I could see the wheels turning in her head, wondering if I could shift into one.

I shuddered inwardly. God forbid. But that meant Vincent was also a descendant of Oonagh and Finvarra. “I saw one a few nights ago.”

Her look became skeptical. “It must have been Vincent. Only he would be foolish enough to parade around among humans like that.” The derision in her voice was unmistakable.

“I couldn’t tell. How many of us are out there?”

“Like you?” She emphasized the two words. “I’ve never heard of any offspring of a human and a Rejected before. On the other hand, there are a few thousand of us scattered around the worlds. It used to be that we bred like rabbits, but for the past few centuries, the ability to reproduce has progressively deteriorated.” She paused with a frown. “I don’t know how many there are from the Seelie Dhiultadh, but they breed with other species and dilute their Sidhe genes, so they don’t have trouble reproducing.”

Was that disgust I detected in her voice? This woman clearly had deep-seated prejudices. She didn’t like me, and I had the nagging feeling that it went beyond being the reason for my father’s disgraceful death.

“If the Rejected are so keen on staying incognito, why didn’t anyone try to get me out of the PSS? I mean, aside from my disgusting status as half-human, what about my other half?” There it was, the million-dollar question.

She looked at me seriously, her expression remote and a little cold. “You exposed yourself when you tore your way out of your mother’s womb. Out of respect for your father’s sacrifice, the Rejected chose not to kill you outright. The High Council held a meeting and decided that one of us would take care of you, discover which traits you inherited from your father, and reconvene once you reached puberty. When you did and didn’t develop an alternative form and your aura remained human, we concluded you didn’t have enough to expose the clan.” Ignoring the narrowing of my eyes, Elizabeth continued, “Besides, once the Scientists finished running their tests on you and found only talons, enhanced speed and strength, they would realize we were not the dangerous, all-powerful phenomena they had heard about. They would cease trying to capture one of us, or at least lessen their efforts.” She raised her eyebrows, her expression earnest, as if she really wanted me to understand her point. “It was your father’s fault they got all stirred up in the first place. It was only fair you should be the one to fix it. Besides, you should be thankful we let you live.”

I gaped at her, flabbergasted. She was serious. “None of you thought about vouching for me, claiming me as your own and getting me out of there?” Even as I asked, I knew the answer. Bitter as it was, no one wanted to expose themselves for a child they considered an abomination. For a group of people considered abominations by their own kind, they sure were hypocritical.

She shrugged daintily.

A sudden realization struck me. “You worked as a lab technician. The annual blood work you ran on me—it wasn’t a health check. It was to determine what I had and what I didn’t. You were examining my genes, figuring out which traits I inherited from my father.”

Elizabeth took another sip of her cold tea, but the silence was all the confirmation I needed.

My anger surged. Not only had they left me to the wolves, but they had done so to cover their tracks while the wolves were busy ravaging me. Logan was wrong; Archer had known about me all along.

“You’re just as cold as the PSS,” I said scathingly. “Instead of protecting an innocent child, you sacrificed her to cover your own backs.”

I realized something at that moment: the Rejected didn’t know I had inherited much more than just talons, enhanced speed, and strength.

She huffed. “Don’t be so dramatic. It was one life against thousands of others. They got wind of us because of your father’s foolishness. It was only right we use the same tool that exposed us to fix the mistake. We didn’t take cover in this world thousands of years ago to be hunted because one of us was stupid enough to father a child with a human.”

Would they have tried to kill me if they knew how much of my father I had inherited? I believed they would. I thought about Vincent. If he had read my file—which Roland confirmed they did—then he knew. Maybe he was on my side after all. It paid to be cautious though. “So you sacrificed that child for the sake of others. Did you ever consider the suffering you inflicted to keep yourselves safe? Did you stop to think that her father’s mistakes were not her own? That hiding her would have made more sense?” My voice was rising, escalating with my anger.

“Roxanne, there’s no need for the drama. This is not about you. We would have done it with any other child. It just happened to be you,” she admonished impatiently, rising to answer the buzzing intercom.

I stood as well and shrugged on my coat. “No need to bother yourself. That’s my ride,” I said, opening the back door of the kitchen. I paused under the threshold and glanced back. “So, if I place a call to the PSS now and they take your daughter away, would you leave her there or expose yourself to get her back? Or would you kill her instead and take her out of the picture altogether?”

I didn’t have to wait for an answer; I saw it as clear as daylight in her alarmed, terrified expression. As I had suspected, Elizabeth had never loved me. She had never cared, not one bit.