Page 32 of A Touch of Treachery
“He really is cool as a cucumber, isn’t he?”Desmond murmured.
“Is that a note of admiration I hear?”
He gave me the same grumpy look Gabriel had earlier.“As much as it pains me to admit it, the man knows how to make an exit.And an entrance too.You should have seen him strut into the ballroom during the holiday party.He walked into Tannenbaum Castle like he owned it.”
I laughed.“Yeah, that sounds exactly like Gabriel.”
Desmond chuckled too, but his amusement quickly vanished.“I’m sorry I didn’t text you this afternoon.There was a lot going on.Can I walk you home?”
My stomach clenched at his serious tone.“Sure.Just let me make sure Pablo has everything he needs.”
Desmond slid out of the booth so that I could get up, then sat back down.He took another sip of his mango-lime smoothie, then pushed it away.Normally, Desmond gulped down Pablo’s smoothies, but his lack of appetite spoke volumes about how his day had been—just as tough and shitty as mine.
I left Desmond sitting in the booth and headed toward the kitchen.No one was threatening me, and my synesthesia was still and silent, but for some reason, I felt like this was just the beginning of our troubles.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
DESMOND
CharlottehelpedPablowhileI finished my smoothie.It truly was delicious, but I had too much weighing on my mind to properly enjoy it.Pablo promised to close the diner for Charlotte, so she grabbed her coat and her purse, and the two of us left.
We walked for about two blocks before Charlotte broke the silence.“How was your meeting with your father?”
“You already asked me that.”
“How was the meeting with your fatherreally?”
I huffed.“I suppose I have to tell you the truth, no matter how ugly it is.You’ll know if I don’t.”
She slipped her hand into mine.“I want you to tell me the truth because youwantto.Not because I can magically hear it with my synesthesia.But if you don’t want to talk about it, I understand.I have plenty of issues with my own father.”
“Yes, we are certainly a matched pair in that regard,” I murmured.
In some ways, Charlotte and I had the exact same problem with our fathers in that the two of us had never factored much into their decisions.Jack Locke had been devoted to Section 47, while Jethro Percy was devoted to himself.
I shook my head.“Idowant to talk about it with you.”
“But?”Charlotte asked.
I sighed.“But talking about it won’t change anything.The General willneverchange.I’ve had thirty-six years to come to terms with that fact, and yet I keep hoping that someday things will be different between us—thathe’llbe different.”
“I felt the same way about my father,” Charlotte confessed in a low voice.“I always hoped when Jack returned from his latest Section mission that he would finally decide he’d had enough blood, death, and danger.That he would cut back, stay home, and spend more time with Grandma Jane and me instead of immediately taking another assignment.But he never did.”
She rasped out the last few words, and the blue aura around her heart flickered and dimmed with hurt and sorrow.
I squeezed her fingers.“Perhaps the saddest thing is that my fatherusedto be different.Well, notdifferent, but a slightlybetterversion of himself.At least until my mother died.”
Charlotte eyed me.“You don’t talk about your mother very much.I don’t think you ever even told me how she died.”
I drew in a breath, then let it out.“Iylena died of a rare form of blood cancer that only strikes paramortals.I haven’t mentioned it because I didn’t want to dredge up bad memories of your grandmother’s illness.”
This time, Charlotte squeezed my fingers.“You can talk about anything you want to, Desmond.I’m always here for you.”
Her aura burned bright and steady, and I tightened my grip on her fingers.
“That means more to me than you know.As for my mother, well, Iylena was the glue that held our family together.She was one of the few things my father and I had in common, and she kept the peace between us.”I paused, trying not to drown in all the good, bad, and painful memories of the past.“Although I have to give my father credit.When my mother got sick, he cut back on his Section duties and spent as much time with her as possible.The General attacked her illness like he did everything else.New therapies, experimental medicines, clinical trials.He got her all that and more, but in the end, it just wasn’t enough.”
I had to stop and clear a hard knot of emotion out of my throat.“He really did love her.”
