Page 184 of Cerulean Truth
By the end of the day, I was utterly exhausted, both physically and emotionally. Dragging my feet up to my dorm, I heard a click on my Nexus. Glancing at it with disinterest, I almost stumbled down the stairs when I saw Eliot Campbell's face in the blue drops of the Nexus.
James’s friend and Councilmember? What on earth did he want? Despite my reservations, I pressed down on the red drops, accepting his connection, and an Eliot-form materialized in 4D.
"Thank you for nexing with me, Emma. I know we don't know each other well," he began.
I nodded. "I know you and James are good friends, so you're okay in my book," I reassured him.
He smirked, clearly pleased with my assessment. "I'm calling you on behalf of James, actually."
My heart started pounding. "Why?"
"Well, apparently he's rather busy right now but found out something about you that couldn't wait for his calendar to clear up."
Translation (in the non-magical sense): he didn't want to talk to me but felt I needed to know anyway. Coward.
I maintained my frown. "Okay… What is it?"
"Did you know, the night of the reception, when you were taken by the Radicals, some blood was extracted from you?" he queried.
I blinked, attempting to conceal my confusion regarding his knowledge of my abduction, or at least making an attempt to. Hadn't James kept that secret from the rest of the Council, apart from the Maumars? Oh well, what did I know.
"I did."
"Well, as you know, James kept a bit of the blood and had it tested by Stephen."
I fell silent. That's certainly not what James had told me...
"He... he did?" I asked, attempting to hide the tremor in my voice. James had assured me that he had destroyed every drop of the blood. Now I was discovering that he kept some and had it tested? Without my knowledge?
"Yeah... and they found something, Emma. Something James wanted to tell you in person, and I'm sure he would've done so himself, but under the circumstances, he asked me to convey that information."
I could feel the dread creeping up my spine. Whatever information James had was clearly significant enough for him to contact me through Eliot.Why did he...
"Why you?" I asked, my tone not intending to be rude, but the question was burning in my mind. "Not to be disrespectful, but I'm a lot closer to some other friends of James."
Eliot nodded and smiled understandingly. "So I've gathered, but I also learned they're not the most discreet of the bunch, and James seemed to think, me being on the Council and all, that I'd be the wiser option."
I nodded; that did make sense. "Okay, so tell me... What's this information you have on my blood?"
He paused for a second, clearly deciding how to tell me whatever it was he wanted to convey. "Stephen tested your DNA and tried to tie it to one of the more 'known' families in our world for whom he had the DNA records on file. He couldn't tie it to one specific family, but, Emma, the test did show that both your parents are magi…"
I chuckled in relief at his apparent mistake. "I'm sorry, Eliot, but you've got it wrong. Both my parents are undoubtedly human. They've even met Stephen, so there's really no question?—"
"I apologize; I should've been more precise," he interjected. "I meant to say your birth parents."
My heartbeat pounded relentlessly in my chest, drowning out any other sound. Blood rushed through my veins, a thunderous symphony in my ears, and my head felt dangerously light.
"What…" I whispered, my voice betraying my inner turmoil, trembling like a fragile leaf in the wind.
"Emma, James wanted me to tell you—you're adopted," Eliot disclosed with a weighty sigh. "I'm sorry you had to find out like this, but James felt it was something he couldn't keep from you, even if he couldn't tell you himself. He sincerely regrets not being here to reveal this in person."
What?My mind was a whirlwind of emotions. I struggled to grasp the meaning of his words. They couldn’t be true…
The rest of my conversation with Eliot was entirely lost on me. All that resonated was the maelstrom of emotions surging within me—anger toward James for lacking the courage to tell me himself and resentment toward my parents for never telling me the truth.
I closed myself off in my dorm, and spend what seemed like hours lying in bed, contemplating Eliot’s message.
Slowly, but surely, I started to doubt the intel. James might have been an asshole, but he was a heck of a brave asshole. In the countless times we’d clashed (which was a lot), he had never cowered away. It seemed inconceivable that he knew something of this magnitude and didn’t share it with me in person. Wherever he was, he could’ve portaled in for a few minutes to tell me. Which he would have.
