Even when I’d been little and long before I’d been taken, I’d hidden away from the scarier parts of life. For all the mean things my father had said to Dante, for all the names he’d called him, I’d never once spoken up for my brother. I’d tried to make up for it by showing Dante that Papa was wrong in other ways, but I’d never stood in front of my father and told him not to talk to Dante that way. On the rare occasions Papa had yelled or Mama had been disappointed inme, I’d let Dante comfort me and tell me everything was going to be okay. If the shadows on my ceiling took on the form of monsters or I heard a noise in the darkened house in the middle of the night or one of the boys in my class called me a namebecause I was too small or my family didn’t have enough money, I’d always gone to Dante. No matter what he’d been doing, he’d either made room for me in his bed or he’d taken me by the hand to check all the corners and closets in the apartment or warned my tormenters to leave me alone.
I’d never been brave because I’d neverhadto be brave.
After I’d been taken, Brian had made sure I hadn’ttriedto be brave.
And now, with a full belly and tired eyes, I just wanted to pretend for a little while longer that Vaughn was taking me home.
I knew we were headed south… the signs on the interstate had indicated as much.
South.
So not to Chicago, apparently.
Of course, since I really didn’t know much about the layout of the United States, I couldn’t actually be sure that we weren’t headed to Chicago. After I’d been taken, my education hadn’t exactly been a priority. I’d only been able to speak English because my mother had dreamed of me one day going to the same college in the U.S. my real father had attended. He’d been an engineer and had died shortly before she’d learned she was pregnant with me. Although my stepfather had adopted me and given me his last name, something he hadn’t been willing to do for Dante, my mother had made sure from an early age that I knew about the father I had in heaven.
I couldn’t help but wonder once again if what my mother had believed was true… that my father had been watching out for me and Dante from heaven. Part of me didn’t think so because surely that would have been a cruel jest… for him to have to watch his son get stolen away and not be able to do anything about it. What kind of heaven was that? But admittedly, when I’d first been taken I’d begged my father in heaven to help me. After a while, I’d started to accept that my mother had been wrong about heaven. When Dante had found me, that in itself had seemed like a miracle, so I just wasn’t really sure what was true anymore.
“You okay?”
Vaughn’s voice jerked me from my thoughts and I quickly glanced at him. His eyes were on the road, of course, but he kept shooting me quick looks. His brow line was furrowed like he was worried about something.
I nodded.
I saw his mouth tighten a bit and I wondered why. He looked… disappointed?
That couldn’t be right, could it?
Why would he be disappointed?
Had I done something to upset him?
I’d tried to be quiet and I hadn’t asked questions. Maybe I’d eaten too much at breakfast? But he’d seemed pleased about that when he’d asked me if it was good after I’d pushed my second helping of grits away. When he’d asked me if I needed to go to the bathroom before we’d gotten on the road, I’d dutifully gone and I’d tried to hurry. Once in the car, I’d remained silent so as not to distract him.
So why was he upset?
Washe upset?
God, I missed Dante and Magnus. I could always ask them questions like this. If I didn’t understand something someone said or did, Magnus or Dante would help me make sense of it.
I could ask Vaughn if he was angry with me, but did I really want to know the answer?
I shook my head and then looked down at my lap. I stilled when I saw how jagged my nails looked.
And how dirty my fingers were.
Not fresh dirt, but the kind that got beneath the skin and didn’t come off with just one or two washings. I’d had to use a special scrubber when I’d lived with Father to get the dirt off every day so he wouldn’t be angry with me or tell me I couldn’t have the flowers anymore. And if he’d caught me chewing my nails…
A shiver ran through me.
He’s dead.
“What?”
I jumped at Vaughn’s question.
“Did you say something?” he asked gently.
Oh God, had I said the words out loud? About Father being dead?
