Chapter 8
Chapter Eight
Inside his blessedly father-free apartment, Foster sank to the floor, resting his back against the door and his head in his palms. He could hear said father speaking to someone in the hallway and had a sneaking suspicion the bastard was making good on his threat to steal the pizzas.
How damned childish…He groaned, scrubbing his hands over his face. Why the hell was that ass turning up at his door, now of all times?
The voices had stopped, so it was probably safe to stand up without his dad trying to break the door down.
Stupid pushy asshole with his stupid self-pitying excuses.
He stomped down the hall, muttering under his breath, and kicked open the door to his bedroom so hard that it clattered against the wall.
The small act of aggression helped slightly, but it wasn’t enough.
A mix of emotions swirled in his chest, building to a breaking point, until his cool facade snapped.
Foster screamed, bringing his fist against the wall over and over as the primal sound rose to a furious bellow.
It rang through the room, shaking the walls and rippling out in a wave of pain and frustration, and continued until his throat was raw and his knuckles were a bloodied mess.
His breath came in sharp pants and his injured hand twitched as he stood, trembling, and tried to calm down. As the echoes of his rage faded away, he became aware of a panicked thumping under his feet and the muffled sound of agitated Spanish from the floor below.
“?…vas a destruir todo este lugar!” Senora Delgado had little patience for nonsense, and Foster wasn’t surprised in the slightest that she was bold enough to confront him.
He had seen the five-foot-nothing grandmother chase down many a delivery driver with whichever package they had haphazardly tossed on her doorstep, just to ream them out for being lazy.
She continued her tirade in a frustrated mutter, but his enhanced hearing picked up her ranting easily.
“Estúpido idiota sin vergüenza. No sé qué está pensando. Vamos a morir porque este mojón no se puede controlar…”
“?Ay, bruja!” he shouted back, stomping his foot after every whack from her trusty Swiffer. “?Calmase!”
Her pounding ceased, but he could still hear her cursing him out as he slumped into his armchair with a heavy sigh.
The old lady was testy and judgmental, but her pastelitos were worth the stink eye, even if she did call him Diablito.
He wondered sometimes if she saw more than he realized.
The more likely possibility was the simple fact that he wore eyeliner and a fair bit of leather.
It probably didn’t help that he was prone to burning unusual spell components and bellowing like an enraged warthog when he was upset.
He glanced at his battered knuckles and was pleased to see they were already knitting back together.
A quick assessment of the wall revealed that it wasn’t faring quite as well.
He grumbled a bit but decided to put off fixing it until after his call.
He dug in his pocket for his projector cube, tossing it onto his bedside table.
It landed beside a worn, vintage photo in a silver frame.
The sepia-toned image couldn’t show you the young woman’s caramel skin or the bronzed gold of her braid.
It didn’t tell you that she was wearing her favorite dress in her favorite color, deep midnight blue.
But it captured the demure tilt of her head, in clear contrast to her mischievous smile, and the relaxed, open stance as she leaned against a doorframe.
Foster frowned, feeling a twinge of guilt over his outburst, as if she was here reprimanding him for it. Clearing his throat, he made a complex movement with his hands and enunciated, “Cube—Connect to Gabriel.”
A low humming sounded from the box, and a beam of light spread from the top to form a rough square. The dim light brightened as a man’s head and shoulders moved into the cube’s range of view.
“Foster,” Gabe was smiling, but it didn’t quite reach his sapphire eyes and there was something guarded in his tone. “I didn’t expect to hear from you today. What a…coincidence.”
“You’re acting weird,” Foster informed him bluntly. “Has your day been as shit as mine?”
“Oh, I suppose you could say that.” Gabe snorted and took a drink from a crystal goblet of red wine. “I saw darling Auntie Maggie today, and apparently, you’re plotting the end of the world, did you know? Can’t believe you didn’t tell me.”
Foster ignored his sarcasm in favor of groaning into his palms. “Now it all makes sense.”
“What makes sense?” Gabe sipped leisurely at his wine.
“My ‘father’ was at my door just now.”
The image was lost in a spray of red liquid. Gabe coughed, sputtering in the background, and wiped his mouth on a pale handkerchief. “Sorry, what?”
“Oh yeah, I had a similar reaction.”
“The nerve! To show up when it suits him after abandoning and neglecting you? I hope you punched him!”
“I did.” Foster frowned. “I should’ve done it twice.”
“Oh.” Gabe paused, momentarily stunned into silence. “Well, good!”
Foster picked at his knuckles where they were scabbing and sealing back into smooth flesh. “Why does everyone think I’ve been plotting something evil? Do they know about—”
“We’ve discussed this, Foster,” Gabe cut him off with a sigh. “The spell to bring your mother back isn’t one that’s considered acceptable. Whether they know about the child or not, they would not approve.”
Foster swallowed roughly, picturing the gentle little girl who lived in A2.
Piper, who had smiled when she saw him and took great pride in modeling all her headscarves for his approval.
He remembered her mother’s exhausted face and glazed eyes when he had approached her to ask how the latest oncology appointment had gone.
The sound of her quiet sobs still haunted his dreams.
“But from a couple deaths to the end of the world?! That seems like a bit of a leap, even for my dad.”
Gabe looked away, but not before Foster caught his pained expression.
“Eden was supposed to be a paradise, a beautiful piece of Heaven for the mortals. But after Lucifer defiled everything, his brother became even stricter and harsher. Any piece of magic that was even the slightest bit controversial was outlawed. And this one requires death energy.”
“So even though the killing might be merciful…”
“It’s still illegal.” Gabe finished, nodding somberly. “And for those who were burned by your father, well… It’s just a slippery slope in their eyes before—”
“Before I do something even worse,” the younger man finished glumly.
“I’m sorry, Foster,” Gabe reached out, as if to put a consoling hand on his shoulder, then drew back when he remembered they were realms apart. “Maybe I should come to see you? We could grab a drink, talk about it?”
“No.” Foster rose, anger and frustration making him restless. “I’m not some little boy anymore. I never had a father who gave a shit, and I know you’ve tried to be there for me, but you aren’t my father either.”
Gabe had looked poised to interrupt but deflated at Foster’s words. “I’m sorry I couldn’t be a father to you, Foster. I’m sorry you had the one you did.”
Foster scoffed. “So am I. His actions have tainted me since I was born.”
“You’re your own man, Foster. His reputation might shadow you, but your actions will define you, not his.”
“If I bring my mother back—no, when I bring my mother back, everyone will see that this magic can be used for good. They won’t fear it anymore, and they’ll see I’m nothing like that spineless coward.”
“I have always believed in you, Foster,” Gabe swore. “Have you been searching like I told you, for the next conduit? Have you found a suitable candidate?”
“It would be a lot easier if you’d be less vague about it,” Foster grumbled. “All you’ve told me is that they need to be ‘wise and experienced’. Experienced in what?”
“Well,” Gabe shrugged, “it could be anything, I suppose.”
“The first time you flat out told me a child was the only sensible choice, because we needed purity and light and blah blah blah. Now it’s just ‘someone wise’, which is not helpful.”
“You seem frustrated,” Gabe mused, sipping from his freshly refilled goblet. “We can always stop the rituals, let things cool off, give you time to find a conduit. I’d completely understand.”
“No.” Foster steeled himself. “If they’re concerned enough to send my dad to harass me, they’ll only keep getting in the way. We have to keep moving forward, I’ll figure it out.”
“But if it’s too much—”
“I need to do this.” Foster pounded his palm with his fist. “My mother is the one person who loved me unconditionally. She was beautiful and kind and she loved the entire world. She immediately befriended anyone she met. If my father showing up here proved anything, it’s that I will never have someone in my life love me the way my mother did. ”
Gabe hummed softly. “I can appreciate that…I met your mother only once, and she was kinder to me than anyone else I have ever known.”
“She’s a beautiful soul, and I will find a way to do whatever it takes to return her to where she belongs—with me. And I’ll never let anyone take her from me again.”
“You know, kid,” Gabe said with a smile, “I really believe that.”
“This is an unforgivable betrayal,” Luce declared somberly, gripping the edge of the counter until his fingertips went white.
“Unforgivable,” Remi agreed vehemently, slamming a balled-up fist onto the black marble.
Mags chewed her lip, averting her gaze. “That’s a little extreme. It’s not like there’s no coming back from this.”
“You’re all being ridiculous.” Rag laughed, reaching into the pizza box and grabbing a slice. “It’s just pineapple.”
“But it’s on pizza!” Remi wailed, both hands fisted in her short hair.
Luce closed the box decisively and reached for the second, only to freeze as soon as he lifted the lid. “Unbelievable.”