Chapter 22 #2
I picked up the chains and began working them through my hands.
The only time the hooded man had looked human was when he’d used the chains.
He’d been inconsistent with his appearance, to be sure, but I was sure there was something to the chanting and constant manipulation of the chains that created some form of magic here.
“It’s just us now, so you can drop the evasive persona. Tell me who you are, why you’ve taken an interest in me, and what it has to do with Bertrand Sexton.”
“It’s no persona,” he said evasively.
“I know you, don’t I?” It wasn’t a real question, more a statement with a rising intonation. “It’s been eating at me since I saw you at the cemetery.”
He nodded, continued with the chains. I did the same, putting intention into the movement.
“You haven’t attacked me,” I said.
He stared at me, unspeaking.
“Are you associated with Bertrand Sexton?”
“As much as you are,” he said, his silvered gaze on mine. “Connected might be a more apt description.”
“The cemetery demon has plans for me that extend beyond the corporeal world.” I worked the chains faster, doing my best to mimic his rhythm.
Magic sank into my palms. It was faint, but it was there.
“If you have a connection to him, I’d like to hear about it.
And likewise, I’ll tell you mine. I’ll even go first to show you can trust me. ”
“I trust you, Lilibet Flores Lennox.” His voice had lost the ghostly quality and was now entirely human. He spoke perfect English with the slightest French accent. He even smiled slightly. It was as comforting as it was unnerving.
“You do?”
“Yes. Still, I’d like to hear your tale before I share mine. So, proceed.” His slight smile deepened into a half one. “What’s the story, morning glory?”
My chains fell into the sand. My chest heaved, and for once tonight it wasn’t from pain but shock.
It was him. The photo Mom had left for me, the one I’d kept tucked in a side pocket of my purse since Beau had given it to me, the one I’d taken out and stared at when no one was watching. The sole piece left of a history I’d been wholly part of, but to which I felt only peripherally connected.
He held onto that slight grin as he hummed the tune to “Come And Get Your Love.”
And every last drop of doubt I had was swept away.
He let the song trail off and picked up speed with his manipulation of the chains. “Retrieve yours, if you’d like to continue speaking with me. It takes a great deal of magic to keep this dimension open, and if I do it on my own, I have to chant.”
I snapped into myself, snatched up the chains, and did my best to run them through my shaking hands.
“D-Dad?”
His smile brightened. “You figured it out.”
“You knew my middle name—of course, you could’ve found that out by other means, but it was odd. And the saying you just used—that was something Mom used to say now and then.”
“A popular expression,” he said, half-admonishingly.
“True. It’s just that coupled with the middle name thing, the photo I saw recently, and her favorite song…” I steadied my hands and set fresh intention into the chains. “Did you send Fennel to me after she died?”
“Asked him, not sent him. There was, and is, no coercion. He’s very protective of you.”
“What is he? A demon?”
“You already know he’s not a demon,” my father said. “As I said, he’s a spirit. In his former life, his role was similar to a common-era necromancer.”
“He was human?” I thought back to all the intensely personal things I’d done in front of him because I thought he was just a cat. A magic cat, but still.
“No. Not human. Not demon. Not animal or paranormal, either. There are other things in the worlds, you know.”
My curiosity was spinning, but I had a feeling any further explanation would take up time we didn’t have. Already, his visage was beginning to flicker from human to demon and back again.
“Where’s Demon Betty?” I asked. “She helped me last time.”
“How should I know? She is you, not me. Perhaps she senses you aren’t in danger and feels no need to show up.”
“Then she’s absolute shit at sensing things, because I don’t know how things get more dangerous than they are now. I’ve got people and wolves coming at me left and right, and now I’m trapped in some pocket hell dimension with my long-lost dad.”
“You have no idea how dangerous it can get.” And then, after dropping that ominous little tidbit, he continued on about Fennel.
“I asked the cat to watch and intervene, if necessary. It was his choice to befriend you. His love for you is every bit as real as your love for him, Lilibet. Do not doubt that for an instant.”
“What’s his real name?” I asked. “Seems like I should know that.”
“Fennel Geranium Lennox. He quite likes the name you christened him with and will answer to no other.” He looked over his shoulder, above his head, and down at his feet. “It’s degrading.”
“We’re still workshopping the middle name, but come on, it’s not that bad.”
“I meant this dimension is degrading. I created it very quickly. There was no time to lay a firm foundation of magic.” His face flickered, the demon spreading over his features in a gray mask.
My hands were steadier now, but my chain moved at a fraction of the speed his did. “Do you need me to chant?”
“No, I need you to listen. Your grandfather is manipulative and cunning, but I hardly need to tell you that. He wants you to take over for me.”
“Take over? I don’t want to be a hell pirate.”
He blinked. “Hell pirate?”
“Sexton said, and I quote, ‘When Christoph was helming Charon’s ferry, the demon Belial would not have dared to show its face in the presence of one of our bloodline. Everyone feared your father. He had power that even the gods envied.’”
“Excellent impression. I take it the term hell pirate originated from you, not him?”
“Yes.”
“So like Lily,” he said—softly, but I heard him. “Everyone feared me, he says. Past tense. Sexton feels I’m losing my edge. It’s best he believes that. I have … plans.”
“Do these plans involve me?” I asked.
“I hope not.” He ducked, and the hood moved over his head, relegating his face to the shadows once more.
“Lily and I never wanted to bring you here, Lilibet Flores Chevalier Lennox. You were our only flower in a garden planted in love. It was our deepest desire to keep you far from this place. I believe now that was a mistake.”
“How so?”
“By not making you aware of the fate your grandfather laid out for you before you were born, we gave you no weapons to fight him. Although,” his laughter boomed as his voice once again took on the sonorous depth of a bass drum, “you have handled him better than either of us ever envisioned so far. He is baffled by you. Stymied by his feelings toward you and conflicted about what he wants you to do. Good. You can use that against him. Don’t hesitate to do so. He is not to be trusted.”
“Yeah, he’s mentioned that more than once.”
“Of course he has. He wants you to see him as an ally.”
“But he’s not,” I said.
“An ally? No. Neither is he your enemy.”
“That makes zero sense, Dad.”
He chuckled, and I shivered. The sound was like a rock being dropped down a deep, empty well. “Dad. I like that. Keep our secrets, daughter.” He nodded at my hands. “And keep the chains with you. If this organization continues to try to banish you, they’ll keep you safe.”
“The way you did for Bronwyn? By creating a pocket universe?”
“That’s one way. It’s all about intention, as I’m sure Lila taught you.” There was the slightest rounding of her name, a softening that told me whatever he’d become, he still cared about her.
The ground shook, sending sand cascading over my feet. The dune was collapsing. I backpedaled furiously toward the portal, which was—damn it—closed.
“How am I supposed to get home?”
My father held up his chains. He was chanting so fast, the words had blurred into one long note.
Keep the chains with you. They’ll keep you safe.
I stared down at the chains. The action of running them through my hands had become second nature, but I needed to set my intention. Instead of concentrating on keeping the pocket dimension from collapsing, I set my focus on creating a connection to my own realm.
Specifically, to a person in my realm.
Ronan.