Loose Changeling: A Changeling Wars Novel (29 page)

“It’s Faolan,” Kailen said. “It’s your father.”

CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

Shit
. “How? They said they have evidence linking him to the murders. They said they caught him with an intended victim. Are you sure he didn’t just go crazy?”

“I understand that you’ve never met Faolan,” Kailen said, his voice slow and cold, “but he is not the type to snap. There is no one else among the Sidhe that I respect more. You do
not
throw Faolan in a cell.”

If I assumed that Kailen spoke truly, then there had to be another reason for all this. “So someone’s framed him. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Kailen said. He sighed. “But I have to find out. I know you just got back from the Arena, and I meant to give you some time and space. But will you help me?”

Faolan may have been my father, but he hadn’t raised me. I had no emotional attachment to him. I didn’t even know what he was like. There was a promotion waiting for me here, and a business trip in two days to Texas. I wanted to live a normal life, away from the Fae. Pretend nothing had happened. But I still had Kailen’s sword. He’d helped me though it had cost him time from his life. I owed him a personal favor, if nothing else.

“What can we do? Both of us are shut off from the Fae world.”

“I’m not sure,” Kailen said, “but I’m going to try. I’ve got some connections. I’ll see what I can find out and meet up with you tomorrow night. How’s that?”

“Okay,” I found myself saying. “But I leave for a business trip on Wednesday.”

Silence again. “You’ve manifested. Things will always be different.”

“Maybe I don’t want them to be.”

Before he could say anything else, I hung up the phone. I had a habit of that lately, it seemed.

My coworkers couldn’t seem to stop talking about the newscast for the rest of the day. “Who do you think he is?” “He’s probably a spy from another country, gone rogue.” “I think he escaped from a mental institution or something.” “Why isn’t there any record of his existence then?”

I did my best to keep my head down and work.

By the time I got home, I was exhausted, and not the good I-just-finished-a-workout sort. Normal life didn’t seem to be treating me as well as it used to. The divorce papers greeted me at the door; I’d cast them onto the butler table next to the entrance. Check yes or no. If only it were that simple. If only checking a box could make my problems go away.

I meandered into the kitchen and flipped on the lights.

Someone was there, sitting at my table. In an instant, I’d seized Kailen’s sword from the island, flipped it out, and had it pointed at the stranger.

Dorian.

He lifted both hands, slowly. “It seems your instincts have really kicked in. Surprising, after thirty-two years of working a desk job.” He’d switched out the bathrobe for a fluorescent orange hunting vest, layered over a long-sleeved black mesh shirt, which was layered over a white T-shirt. The man really needed someone to
tell
him how to dress.

I lowered the sword but didn’t snap it back into place. “Nine years. You don’t know much about humans, do you? We don’t start working from infancy.”

He had the grace to look embarrassed. “Right.”

I checked my doors and windows. All were shut. Of course. He wouldn’t just saunter in a door or window, would he? Had to be the mysterious, random appearance route. If I had to pick one thing I didn’t like about the Sidhe, this might be it. “What are you doing here? You ignored me in the Arena. I thought you were done with me.”

“I may not know much about humans, but clearly, you don’t know much about Fae politics.”

I snapped the sword back into place and slid into the seat opposite the Fae prince. “Fair enough. Why don’t you explain it to me?”

“If I’d shown any interest in you at all, or gave any indication we’d met before, Grian would find an excuse to toss me into that lovely little dungeon of hers.” He shuddered. “Not a pretty place, I hear. And my family doesn’t have the power to stop her.”

“Either you’re here to help me, or you’re not.”

Dorian raised an eyebrow. “Those are the only two choices?”

“I’m asking for you to tell me one way or another.” I tightened my hand around the hilt of Kailen’s sword to make my point.

“Touchy, aren’t you? Grian says that’s why Changelings are so dangerous—they grow up with the power of the Fae and the moody upbringing of a mortal.” He must have seen my knuckles whitening, because he continued on, faster. “But I’m here to help, at least in the ways I can.”

“Why?”

“I take it you saw the news item on your dear father? With the doorways opening, and Fae wandering into the mortal world, the Fae will have seen it. How do you think that will make the Sidhe feel, seeing one of their own locked in a cell?”

Kailen had been incensed when I’d implied that perhaps Faolan’s imprisonment had been his own fault. “Faolan is well-respected among the Sidhe.”

“Yes,” Dorian said, drawing out the word and leaning back.

I narrowed my eyes at him. He wasn’t telling me anything directly, only leading me down a path. Why? Why not just tell me what bothered him? Perhaps he couldn’t. The Fae seemed to operate under strange rules. “When word spreads that Faolan has been arrested and imprisoned for a crime he did not commit, it will make the Fae very angry.”

“Yes?” He ended it like a question, as if waiting for more.

“Angry enough to attack the mortal world?”

Dorian’s lips pressed together, his face grim, and I knew I’d happened on the right answer. The Fae at war with humans. It would be a disaster of epic proportions. I dropped Kailen’s sword on the table and worried my hands as I thought. No one was convinced that Faolan had murdered those five people, yet the police had enough evidence to arrest him and had stated they’d caught him with an intended victim.

The only other explanation was an elaborate setup. But why? “Who would want the mortal world and Fae world to be at war with one another?”

Dorian only crossed his arms and shook his head. Either he couldn’t answer any more questions, or I was on the wrong track completely.

“Maera would know what happened to Faolan,” I said.

Dorian shook his head. “Maera’s disappeared. No one knows where she is.”

“The rest of the Aranhods?”

“Are extremely unhappy.”

I guessed that was the understatement of the year. “If I closed the doorways, would that stop the war from happening?”

Dorian shook his head again, his blond hair brushing against his cheeks.

It should have made me angry, but I couldn’t muster up the effort. “Well, what are you here for, then? I can’t do anything.”

He gave his head one shake before he grimaced and doubled over. Magic. Someone hadn’t wanted Dorian to talk, and clearly, he’d pushed himself as far as he could. Slowly, he straightened, pain etching lines in his face. “It’s been nice to see you, Nicole. I hope we run into each other again.” He rose, his posture stiff, and made for my back door.

“Yeah, we will,” I called after him, “if you sneak into my house and wait for me.”

He was gone.

I called the prison next, to ask about visiting hours and procedures. “Can I come by tomorrow morning? I know that man, the one they arrested for killing those people.”

“Ma’am, a lot of people have called claiming that,” the receptionist said in a bored tone.

“It’s Nicole. Nicole…Philbin. He’ll want to see me.”

He was my biological father—the least I could do was go see him and hear his side of the story.

“Well, what do you know? You’re on the list.” She actually sounded awake now. “You get one visit per week.” She pointed me in the direction of the visitor application forms and told me if I got them in within an hour of our talk, I’d be approved by Monday. I scheduled my visit and then left a message with Landon, letting him know I had a doctor’s appointment on Monday and would stay late to make up for it.

On Monday morning, I went to the prison. I’d always imagined prisons with razor wire and chain-link fences. This one was all cold concrete and the occasional pane of glass.

I stepped inside and almost ran face-first into Officers Brown and Gomez. Gomez pretended she didn’t know me—her eyes met mine and then slid away.

“Hey, Ms. Philbin,” Officer Brown said. He stopped, and Officer Gomez did as well. “What are you doing here? Getting into trouble with the law again?”

Ha, ha, ha
. “I’m here to see one of the prisoners.”

Gomez’s eyes narrowed. “Oh yeah? Who?”

And because I couldn’t think of a lie fast enough, I told the truth. “The guy on television, the one who supposedly murdered those three people.”

Gomez raised an eyebrow. “Supposedly?”

I met her gaze. “Yes, supposedly. Allegedly, if that suits you better. Just as I
allegedly
kidnapped Jane Barston.” To be fair, what I’d actually done to Jane was far worse, but I wasn’t about to confess my many sins to this uppity police officer.

“Hmph,” Gomez said.

Officer Brown tapped her arm. “Let’s just go.” He looked at me as they left. “Stay out of trouble, Ms. Philbin.”

That seemed as though it was becoming more and more unlikely.

When I finally made it to the visiting area, my hands were leaking sweat. I rubbed them on my pants and they left damp spots on my slacks. Gross. I had to get a hold of myself. Why was I so nervous anyways? Was it because this was the father I’d never met, was it the open doorways, or was it the potential for war between the Fae and mortals? Maybe this was a mistake. Maybe this was a stupid idea. I should get to work. Someone else could solve those problems.

And then, before I could change my mind, Faolan walked into view and sat across from me. He had the same skin as me, the same deep-set eyes. He looked exhausted.

I picked up my phone and he picked up his.

“Nicole,” he breathed. “I thought I would be meeting you under far more auspicious circumstances.”

Who
talked
like that? How could the officers actually believe this man had committed murder? There was a quiet, dignified air about him. It clung to him despite the handcuffs, the stubble, the navy blue T-shirt and the jeans.

I wasn’t sure what to say next, so I said the first thing that came to mind. “Did you kill those people?”

“No. Of course not. Your mother and I…we are what the other Sidhe refer to as mortal-soft. We sympathize with the mortals, have never seen them as our playthings, as others have.”

“If you didn’t kill them, who did?”

“Daughter, I wish I could tell you more. But I know little more than you do. I was asleep with your mother. The next thing I knew, I was in an abandoned building, a woman tied and gagged in a chair in front of me. When I went to undo her bonds, the police broke down the door.”

“What about Grian?” She could have framed Faolan. She’d hunted me down—me, the only one who could close the doorways. But she was already in a position of power. What more did she want?

Faolan tilted his head to the side. “Grian doesn’t care for mortals. Morgan Le Fay was her grandmother, and she carries some of those sentiments. She has the power, certainly, but I’m not sure I can see her killing humans without a purpose.”

My conversation with Dorian replayed in my mind. Would Grian really go this far—starting a war? I remembered, then, what I’d seen in her mind, what I’d seen behind the door. Grian may have looked pretty, but underneath it all she was a monster. “But she has a purpose,” I said softly. “She wants to start a war.”

Faolan sat up straight. “How would slaughtering mortals and then framing me for it cause a war?”

So he really had no idea how popular he was? Modest man. I supposed that only made him
more
popular. “You’re well-liked. No one among the Sidhe believes that you did it. I think…I think they’re going to attack the prison.”

He drew in a sharp breath. “They can’t. They mustn’t. Nicole, if you see any of the Fae, if you speak to any of them—tell them this is not what I would want. I would rather die than be the cause of another war between mortals and the Sidhe.”

“Except I’m not exactly well-liked among them,” I said. “I don’t think they even want me around. Can’t I just close the doorways before they come through?” I didn’t mention that I’d not even succeeded in doing that in the Frank Gibbons, Inc. parking lot.

“Grian will have moonstone. As soon as you close a doorway, she can open another. You have to find another way. Is there no one who can help you? What about Kailen? Maera and I sent him to protect you.”

I bit my lip. “Yes, there’s Kailen.” Kailen, who had lied to me more times than I wanted to count, who had risked his life for me, who had given up part of his life to lend me his sword. “I don’t know if I can trust him,” I blurted out.

He regarded me with a level gaze. “Kailen has been through much. No matter what he’s done, it has never been enough for Grian. He did everything she asked—hurt people, killed them, accepted all blame—and yet she asked for more. She withheld the only thing he wanted—a mother’s love. When I agreed to train him, Kailen was broken. I helped him see that he did have value, and as more than his mother’s son.

“He is not always honest. He doesn’t feel that others will like him for who he is. But Kailen is a good man, and I trust him. You can trust him too. I swear to you, he will not let you come to harm, if he can help it.”

A ringing endorsement. I wondered what Faolan would think if he knew Kailen had been kissing his daughter. “Okay, I get it. Kailen is not out to get me.”

Faolan nodded. “Speak to him. Together you may be able to find a way to stop this war from starting.”

I found myself sinking toward the table, my free hand tangled in my hair. Stopping a war. How had I gone from salesperson to interdimensional peacekeeper? “Why me? Why can’t I just live a normal, mortal life?”

“Daughter, you must be strong. I know you have it in you. This is the life of a Changeling, always straddling two worlds. For what it’s worth, I’m proud of you.”