26. DADDY’S ORDERS
DADDY’S ORDERS
“MY WAYWARD DAUGHTER HAS RETURNED.”
Embry startled awake from where she’d fallen asleep sitting up in Daddy’s accent chair, pulled flush to the bed. She blinked, her eyes adjusting to the stormy light of her surroundings.
Daddy, who was awake!
Daddy, who was sitting up!
Daddy, who wasn’t grinning, exactly, his azure eyes fierce—alive—in the gloom, magical sedation evaporated.
Embry rushed into motion, leaning forward to snag his hand in hers. His fingers were much cooler to the touch than she would’ve liked. Immediately, she reached for a spell with her free hand and lit the hearth across the space. “How do you feel?”
Lazarus rubbed his thumb across the back of Embry’s knuckles.
The sensation was identical to when she attacked her face with the jade gua sha she kept in the back of the fridge.
Unfortunately, the effect here wasn’t nearly as soothing.
“Well, I don’t feel like I’ve been sawed through with a rusty pizza cutter, so that’s an improvement. ”
“Are you hungry? Thirsty? Do you want me to open the curtains?”
That not-exactly-a-grin rose into a genuine smile. “No, dear, don’t trouble yourself.”
“No trouble. Rye’s coming with Indian in—” She checked her mother’s watch, stuffed under her sleeve: 5:29.
She’d gotten at least four hours of sleep, maybe?
The midafternoon was a hazy mix of her own zombie walk from the station with Rye, making plans for dinner, downloading with Dr. Goldman, sending the doctor home to rest, checking on Daddy, and apparently falling asleep in this chair.
She hadn’t even taken the time to shower, and Goddess knew she needed one of those.
“He’ll be here in a half hour. Are you sure you’re not thirsty?
Maybe if you’re not, that’s an important detail to tell Dr. Goldman? Here, I can get her on speaker—”
Daddy reached out and smoothed a lock of hair behind her ear. It just got mussed like this when she did strenuous things. Like, say, crawl through police department air ducts and berate herself for switching her brain into power saver mode long enough to kiss Rye Knighton.
Wait. How awful did she look right now? She was seriously regretting not taking the time to look in the mirror when she got home. Daddy’s smile faded. “What I do want is for you to tell me exactly where you were when you weren’t here for approximately ten hours.”
Embry gulped. It was just like Daddy (and her) to know everything—it didn’t matter how he found out, only that he did. She could lie—come up with something that was both easily believable and maybe a little comforting to Daddy because it wouldn’t worry him. He didn’t need to worry.
But Embry wasn’t keen on outright lies to her father, even if they would spare him the mental energy of concern. “Rye and I went to Raven’s Head to look for clues.”
“Clues?”
“He wanted to help, and we thought we could retrace the killer’s footsteps, and maybe—”
“Maybe get yourself killed by a pack of rabid vampires keen on your destruction?”
“Well, no—”
“Maybe get yourself in deeper trouble with Headmaster Martinelli, who believes you’re tampering with evidence? Maybe end up in the fearful clutches of the magical mad person who murdered Oakley Riddle in the first place?”
“Daddy, no—”
“Daddy, yes.” Lazarus slapped both his comforter-covered thighs with his hands, an exclamation point. “That’s exactly what you were doing when you were gallivanting around outside the safety of our home.”
“I was with Rye—”
“Who should know better.”
Embry immediately regretted saying his name. Daddy could yell at her all he wanted, but Rye did not deserve it.
“Where is he? Little Delhi Diner? You know what? It doesn’t matter. Where’s my phone? I’ll tell him myself right this very moment.”
At least this time, she wouldn’t inadvertently toss Shaggy under the bus.
“Daddy, don’t be mad, please,” Embry deflected.
She actually did know his phone was charging in the kitchen, because she’d put it there herself, but she wasn’t going to share that.
“Getting fired up has to be a bad thing for you in your current state.”
Usually turning it back on Daddy’s health worked.
If anything, Lazarus Woodcross did not want to worry his daughter.
Which is why he begrudgingly went along with all her meddling plans to help him, from the weekday runs to the copious amounts of high-fiber chia.
But in this moment, that pivot didn’t make things easier; it made them so, so much worse.
“You’re right. It is,” he snapped, blond brows crashing together. “My blood pressure was through the roof when I woke up and you weren’t in the house. Phyllis had to sedate me again.”
Embry’s mouth was desert dry. She itched to check her cell, which she’d had off since she’d left the house. It was easy to picture all the missed messages, the display texts piled atop one another like cards in solitaire.
“I,” she started, hoping that by omitting her use of we Daddy would forget Rye had ever been included in her jaunt outside, “was only trying to improve the situation.”
“You can improve it by staying here. Where you’re safe.”
Embry knew enough not to mention to Daddy what Rye had pointed out about her lack of safety on these grounds as proven by the vampire attack. Lazarus continued to build his case.
“Where you won’t get into a worse situation that will only make it harder for our lawyers to protect you.”
“Our lawyers?” This caught Embry off guard. He’d mentioned his “people” working the Table for clues, but she’d figured they were employees from the Woodcross Law Firm.
“Yes. I’ve hired out a magical firm from Portland to protect you—that diviner’s vision has made formal charges more likely.”
Embry’s stomach twisted—she needed to find out if Alistair had gone missing in addition to dropping out.
“In fact, they’re currently fighting a search warrant for your dorm room.”
Embry’s head felt as if it were full of the sand that parched her throat. “But if we’re fighting it, doesn’t it look like I have something to hide?”
“No, it looks like you’re fighting for your rights as a private citizen in contract with the school for room and board. Yes, they own the building, but via contract it is your space, and they have no right to search it without proof.”
“Daddy, I didn’t do it. They won’t find anything.”
“May I remind you that the real killer is framing you for this crime?” Bold color flooded Lazarus’s unshaven cheeks now. “You haven’t been in your room since Saturday morning. It is very likely the killer has had the time to plant evidence there without your knowledge.”
“But the wards—”
“Embry Luciana Woodcross!” Daddy’s tone brooked no argument.
Her sentence snapped in half, and she blinked at him as he squeezed the hand that had been holding his with surprising strength given his circumstances.
“Stop arguing with me. Stop inventing excuses. Leave it up to the lawyers; leave it up to me, your father, to know what’s best here for you.”
Though she was weeks away from being an adult in the eyes of the United States government, suddenly Embry felt very small. Like the little girl who’d weave daisy chains and leave them on her mother’s grave while the neighbor boy did the same for his a few plots over.
Embry sank farther into the chair, the fine upholstery swallowing her down like a truffle made of magic, lavender oat milk lattes, and a veritable aircraft carrier of guilt.
“Em, I know you’re a doer. You’re someone who can’t sit back and let others take care of things.
I know because I’m the very same way. We meddle, we work, we don’t relax and sit on our hands.
I know. I know how hard this is for you, especially with your reputation on the line.
” The cool blue of her father’s eyes softened here, and his grip on her hand renewed.
The fingertips had a little more warmth to them now.
“But in this moment, I want you—I need you—to trust me and the professionals I’ve hired to fight for you. ”
Suddenly, she felt more wrung out, more tired than before she’d fallen asleep. But there was so much left to be done—analysis of the paperwork and photos, a frank discussion about the motives of their current suspect list, any updates from Ames and Fairfax at Raven’s Head, and more.
Plus, Embry really did need to shower before she saw anyone else. Including Rye.
It was possible that Lazarus read her thoughts as they scrolled across her face. Or perhaps he just knew her better than anyone in the world, even if Rye claimed he held that title. Hard to beat Daddy at anything, especially when it came to her.
“Em, I see those wheels turning.”
Sighing, she looked into the same blue eyes she saw in the mirror, Lazarus Woodcross’s version in this moment filled with love, determination, and enough persuasion to convince an attacking bear to leap off a cliff.
“Hit the brakes on those damn wheels. Stay put. You are the future of this family. You’re my heir. Which means you’re also the future of the Woodcross coven. Old Hiram did not escape the horrors of Salem for us to give up the ghost not even five hundred years later.”
She nodded, because she was a good daughter. But, unfortunately for him, Embry’s stubbornness was a perfect match for his talents of persuasion.
If Lazarus noticed the flickering of her jaw, he didn’t seem to register it meant she was grinding her teeth. Clenching back the words playing on loop in her mind.
There is no future for me, the Woodcross family, or the coven if I don’t clear my name.