Page 11 of Skullduggery
He placed his teacup on a small table, stood up and extended his hand. ‘It’s the least I could do after missing the party last night, Daisy. I was waiting for the last of my contactsto get in touch. I wanted to have as much information as possible before I spoke to you.’
I shook his hand then sat opposite him when he resumed his seat. ‘That sounds as if you actually have information for me.’
His expression grew more serious. ‘I do.’
I reminded myself that lunging forward to grab him by the lapels and shake the information out of him was not the behaviour of civilised elves. I took the cup of tea that Becky was pushing in my direction and waited with as much patience as I could muster.
‘We can leave you in private to hear this,’ Hugo said. ‘If you want.’
‘No. I’d like you to stay,’ I replied.
I didn’t miss the answering flash of happiness in his blue eyes as he nodded and pulled up another chair. Becky shot me a questioning look, then did the same.
‘As you know,’ Sir Nigel said, ‘I’ve been in touch with numerous fiend experts both in this country and abroad. There are three known cases where fiends have sired children.’
Behind me, Otis sucked in a breath. I remained very, very still as I said, ‘So it is physically possible that Athair is my birth father.’
Sir Nigel didn’t mince his words. ‘Yes.’
‘And those children?’ I asked. ‘What happened to them? What did they … become?’
‘Their circumstances were different to yours.’
I met his eyes. ‘That’s not what I asked.’
He sighed. ‘I know.’ His waxed moustache quivered. ‘None of them are alive today, not in this realm anyway. The first one, a girl called Zitinillia, died when she was thirteen years old. It appears that the onset of puberty, combined with the unexpected force of her magic, caused her death.’
Bile rose in my mouth. ‘I burned my house down at a similar age,’ I whispered. ‘I could have easily killed myself and my adoptive parents.’
Unbidden, Hugo’s hand reached out and he entwined his fingers with mine. The unsettling cold that had been leeching into my bones at Sir Nigel’s words started to dissipate. I smiled briefly at him to show that his touch was very welcome. His gaze was soft. He had my back; despite everything, he would stand beside me. Knowing that I wasn’t alone meant more than I could put into words.
‘Thank heavens for spider’s silk,’ he murmured in a lighter tone than he probably meant.
‘I bet you never thought you’d say that six months ago,’ I replied.
A ghost of a smile crossed his face. ‘You can say that again.’
‘I bet you never thought you’d?—’
Hugo squeezed my fingers tighter and I stopped, but the flicker of levity had eased the tense atmosphere. Sir Nigel’s moustache stopped trembling and Becky’s shoulders relaxed as she leaned back in her chair. ‘And the other two children?’ she asked.
‘One was called Fravock,’ Sir Nigel said. ‘He was born in the early twentieth century and died just before the Second World War.’
‘He also died quite young, then,’ I surmised.
‘Yes.’
I nodded distractedly and plucked at an invisible thread. ‘Did he…? Was he…? I mean did Fravock…?’
Fortunately, Sir Nigel understood what I was trying to ask. ‘We don’t believe he was a fiend. As an adult, he passed for a normal human. He was married, worked as a solicitor before he was killed, and had no children.’
‘But he didn’t die naturally?’
Sir Nigel’s eyes slid away. ‘Reports at the time suggest he was murdered by Athair.’
My ears started ringing with an ominous whine. ‘My father was taking out potential future competition.’
Hugo’s voice was dark. ‘Allegedfather.’
