I nodded. Now we were getting somewhere. “And I was three when my mother died.”
She nodded in turn. “That night we had no idea you’d performed more than a simple reveal spell. We didn’t know, and quite frankly wouldn’t find out for years, that you’d actually transformed a wolf into a boy.”
“Who’s now a shapeshifter.” If we were being honest, I was still in awe over the whole thing.
“Exactly. But you fell asleep that night. We knew instantly you were in a suspended animation. It was the third time it had happened to you, so when a couple of days passed, we weren’t terribly worried. Still, someone always stayed with you.” Ruthie’s eyes glistened in the gaslight. “Your mother insisted she would watch over you when I went to sabbath.” She fidgeted with the neckline of her dress, her gaze sliding into the past. “While there, I felt a prickling.”
“A prickling?” Like the one niggling at the back of my neck, standing up all the hairs there?
“Percival’s essence had never gone beyond the walls of this house, but I . . . I felt him. Like pinpricks on my skin.”
Percy’s hold tightened, and I swallowed hard, dreading where this was going.
“I hurried home and . . .” She took a sip of her tea.
When she didn’t continue, I encouraged her with a firm, “Ruthie.”
“I caught your mother trying to siphon your powers.”
As I absorbed what she was trying to tell me, her cup clinked against the saucer.
“But that would mean . . .” My voice was a mere whisper, so quiet I wondered if she could hear me. “She was trying to kill me.”
Her fingers tightened around the cup. “I’m sorry, Defiance. That’s why I felt I had no choice.”
“You killed her to save me.” Her revelation left me stunned and heartbroken. All these years, I’d dreamt of a mother who’d given me up for adoption because she’d had no choice. She’d wanted me to have a better life. She’d sacrificed everything to let me go.
As far as lies I liked to tell myself over the years, that one was a doozy. The woman who bore me had no love for me at all. Probably never did. I was forty-four—nope, forty-five—and I stood there, chin quivering, like a child mourning the loss of a love that never existed. “I’ll be gone by the end of the week.”
I disentangled the vines again and swung open the door, only to come face-to-face with Roane’s closed door across the foyer. I needed to apologize to him. To explain my horrid behavior. But I just didn’t have it in me at that moment. I had a murderous, soul-sucking mother to mourn.
“He isn’t there.” Ruthie stood behind me. “I believe he’s making you dinner.”
The scent drifting down the stairs almost dropped me and made me suddenly ravenous. Too bad sorrow and humiliation would prevent me from partaking.
“Before you leave . . .” Ruthie’s voice filled with sadness. “The coven would love to meet you.”
I pivoted to face her. “Why? I have no powers.”
“They know what you did. How you saved not one but two women’s lives. How you extracted me from the veil. They’ve helped watch over you for months. They’d love to meet you, even for just a few minutes.”
I nodded, then took the stairs and hurried to my room. Only my door was blocked by a plant. I stepped forward, but this time the vines didn’t move. “Percy?” I asked warily. “What’s going on?”
“Dinner.” My dads appeared on the mezzanine behind me. “You haven’t eaten in six months, cariña.”
I turned to gape at Percy—well, the part of him covering the door—then turned back to my dads. “You guys are in cahoots?”
“We are cahooting,” Dad said.
The vines flourished behind me, pushing me toward my dads.
“Hey,” I said, pretending to be offended.
Papi joined in. “We have decided to cahoot. It’s for your own good.” Each dad took an arm and led me back down the stairs, Percy still nudging me from behind.
“Is this like an intervention or something?”
“More of a cahoot-uh-vention,” Papi said, ever the wordsmith.
By the time I’d been cahooted all the way into the formal dining room, I was livid. Or I could’ve been if I’d given it my all. “I am not a cow, Percy. You don’t need to herd me.”
He backed off at last while Dad pulled out a chair for me, waiting behind it, his expression insistent.
I sat, and he smiled.
The scent of whatever Roane had been cooking reminded me of every meal I’d missed over the last six months. I could only hope no one noticed the drool. I focused on the spread, recognizing Dad’s handiwork in the carnitas. And Papi’s baking with the homemade Hawaiian rolls and the pineapple upside-down cake he knew I loved. Even Annette had pitched in with her turkey and green chile pinwheels. There was no order to the meal. It was a hodgepodge of all my favorite foods, including macaroni and cheese, lobster bisque, and shepherd’s pie.
“This looks amazing.” I grabbed a plate. “Who made the shepherd’s pie?”
“I did.” A smooth, deep voice drifted toward me.
I didn’t want to look. But his voice had the power of a giant magnet that picked up old cars, and it pulled me in like I was a wrecked Malibu in dire need of an oil change and some minor body repair.
Holding a drink loosely in his hand, he took a seat at one end of the table, leaning back in his chair with an elbow on one elaborately carved arm.
My insides melted. Then I remembered the accosting I’d given him. And my cheeks melted too. “It looks delicious.” I decided to feign amnesia.
He decided to give me a simmering once-over with a side of hot flash.
I sat at the opposite end of the table, facing the wolf head on.
Annette and the chief joined my dads, sinking into chairs they’d obviously claimed a while ago. The only one missing was Ruthie. The world had changed so much while I was out. It was like they’d become a family, and I was the awkward cousin who’d come to visit.
Platters of food were passed around, and I took a little of everything. Not to be nice, but because it all looked so good, and there was something voracious about breaking a six-month fast.
Halfway through the meal, my grandmother was still a no show. “What about Ruthie?”
The chief dropped his gaze. “She won’t come up.”
“Because she doesn’t eat?” Maybe she didn’t. Although, she had been drinking tea.
“We really aren’t sure,” Annette answered.
“All we know for certain,” Papi chimed in, “is that she can’t leave the house.”
“What do you mean?” That was a tad alarming. “She’s stuck here too? Like Percy?”
He nodded. “As far as we know.”
“Well, that sucks.” I pointed my fork at Annette. “I thought you were supposed to be at work.”
“I got fired.”
“Again?” Papi wiped his face with a napkin and poured himself some water from the pitcher in the middle of the table.
“It’s the tourists. They’re rude. They get in my face, I’m gettin’ in theirs.” She added some flavor to that last part with a mediocre Godfather impersonation.