Page 8 of City of the Lost
“So, what did you do?”
“Honestly?”
She nodded.
“I cried. I cried a lot, and then I decided I was done crying, and I punched Garret in the face.”
She blinked at me in horror.
Oops. “Not that I’m saying you should punch anyone, just that ...” I sighed. “Okay, I’m doing this all wrong. What I mean to say is that if you show them that they’re getting to you, then they’ll keep doing it. So ... why don’t you tell me what they’ve been saying?”
She gnawed on her bottom lip for a second. “They say Adam Noir is my dad, and he dumped me here because he doesn’t want me. That he only comes to check on me because he feels guilty, but not enough to take me with him.”
I shook my head. Fucking Noir. How could he be so stupid? Did he not see the resemblance? “What do you think?”
She dropped her gaze and wrung her hands. “Sometimes I want it to be true. Sometimes I wish he was my dad; at least I’d know where I came from. But then the others remind me what that would really mean. It would mean he didn’t want me.”
“You know what I think?”
She looked up, her baby blues, so similar to Noir’s, locking onto me with hope.
“I think they’re jealous. I mean, you do look like Noir, and he is pretty amazing. I bet they wish he was their dad, regardless of whether he put them here or not. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be related to an Arcana?”
She blinked, absorbing this explanation. “You know him?”
“Yes, we’re kinda, sorta friends.”
“So, you’d know for sure, right?”
Oh, God. She looked so hopeful, but what was it she was hoping for. Either way, there was no way the truth could come out, not if she was to survive.
“Yes, I know for sure he doesn’t have any children.”
Her shoulders sagged. “Oh. Good. I mean, that’s really good.” She looked up again. “Can you tell the others that?”
“If that’s what you want, sure I can. But I’ll need a slice of lemon cake first.”
An hour later, Azren and I made our way down the porch steps, a packet of homemade herbal tea in my hand and a tiffin of lemon cake in Azren’s. We were halfway down the path when footfalls clattered after us.
Amber grabbed my hand. “Thank you for making them stop.”
“No problem.”
She ducked her head. “And when you see him ... When you see Adam, can you say hi from me?”
There was a conspiratorial glint in her eye, a half-smile on her lips. She knew. She fucking knew.
“Sure. I’ll pass that on.”
She released my hand and skipped back up the path and into the house.
Noir was going to have to sort this out, and fast.
3
The radio crackled as I scarfed down the supper Gilbert had kindly prepared. Bangers and mash, my ultimate favorite, and the gravy Gilbert made was to die for. Azren, antsy from not having found any clues, had gone for a drive to clear his head. The kitchen felt empty without him.
“Hey,” Trevor said from his perch on his cushioned seat. “What’s with the face?”
