Matter of Truth, A (11 page)

“You’re shaking,” the master of the obvious says to me as we
limp back to the truck.

I erased both boxes, the sword (much to Will’s displeasure),
and my bow and arrows just as easily as I erased an Elder before we left the
clearing. Truth is, I feel a bit numb. “Just cold.”

“Liar.” He peers up into the sky. It’s no longer snowing now
that the first Elemental is dead. “We need to get going. The temperature is
dropping.”

I simply make us warmer clothes.

When we get to the truck, Will digs out his cell phone and
calls Cameron. He tells his father we’ve been in a car accident and that we
need to go to the hospital because we’ve both lost a fair amount of blood.
While I’m rearranging the car’s appearance to match Will’s claims, I hear him
say, “What? Dad—we both need stitches. I need to get Chloe—”

I switch his phone to speaker function without even touching
it. “Son, trust me,” Cameron’s saying. “Just come to my work and I’ll make sure
the two of you are taken care of. Hurry. I’m worried about you both losing more
blood than you already have.”

Will and I exchange uneasy glances after his father hangs
up.“D’ya think Dad has lost his mind?”

“I killed somebody,” is what I say in return.

“
We
killed somebody.” He smashes his hand against the
steering wheel. “Lest you forget, that thing tried to kill
us
. And
probably killed loads of other people before today. I’m not mourning its loss,
Chloe. I beg you don’t, either.”

I pull in a breath, but it stings. My ribs ache from being
knocked over by Cailleache one too many times. “How moronic am I that I never
thought about willing any of the Elders out of existence before today?”

He grins, even though there is a nasty cut above his upper
lip. “You’re welcome.”

Hollow laughter fills the cab. “Just my luck, right? I have
to get up close and personal with serial killers in order to take them out.”

He grunts, wincing. He’s holding himself strangely, like
it’s painful to breathe.

I lean my head against the cold window. It feels good.
“They’ve killed a lot of people,” I whisper. “They’ve tried to kill the people
I love most too many times. So why do I feel so awful right now?”

His large hand falls against my knee and gently squeezes.
“Because you’ve got a good heart.”

The rest of the trip back into Anchorage is spent in
silence. And even though it seems like I ought to be focusing on what just went
down, my mind keeps going back to the argument Will and I had right before the
Elder showed up. About how he accused me of only being with Jonah out of some weird
sense of obligation.

The more I think about it, the surer I become of what I
said. I love Jonah. Not because of our Connection—well, okay, yes, I guess the
Connection is responsible for at least us meeting—but because I. Love. Him.
He’s smart, and loyal, and thoughtful, and kind, and so many other things that
make him one of the best people I know. We grew up together. He was my first
kiss. And I stayed with him, even though I was confused over my feelings toward
Kellan, because Jonah has always been my safety. In a weird way, he’s also been
my most constant source of stability and reliability, two things I’ve craved my
entire life. And even though consistency, stability, safety, and reliability
sound like boring things on paper, with him, they weren’t. They were what I
needed. What I still need.

I have enough excitement in life. I am capable of earth
shattering deeds. I need steadiness and acceptance. I need love that can be
just as gentle as it can be passionate. The kicker is—I had that, and I foolishly
threw it away.

People are wrong about Connections. Connections don’t define
you. Having a partner doesn’t define you. Love doesn’t define you. You have to
do that yourself. You have to decide who you are, what you want, and where you
want to go. But when you do find somebody you want to share your life with, it
needs to be for the right reasons.

I don’t want Jonah because of our Connection. I know what
Connections do to people. I refuse to let that define me, or, more importantly,
us
any further. I want to be with Jonah because of who he is. I’ve
learned too late to appreciate what he brought to my life. The truth is, I
stayed with him, despite feeling like I was being torn in two because I always
knew, deep down, who was best for me. And I ran because I thought it was best
for him.

I love him.

And it’s time I let him know that.

Cameron hovers over me, arms
crossed. Some middle-aged dude who’s supposedly a nurse practitioner that he
knows is stitching up my numerous cuts in Cameron’s small, neat managerial
office in the back of a fishing warehouse.

Wait. I know him. He’s the guy Cameron insisted on helping
me in the hospital during my embarrassing alcohol-poisoning episode. And my
assumed feverish thoughts about him were right, because here in the harsh florescent
lights of Cameron’s office, I know for sure he’s an Elf—or, at least, part-Elf.
Tall, aloof, and classically handsome, Erik Hernandez works quietly and
efficiently, with precious little chitchat with anyone other than Cameron. He’s
given both Will and I something to numb the pain, hooks us up to IVs to help
with the blood loss, and forms neat rows on all our injuries.

He didn’t question our story about the supposed car
accident, even though it’s obvious to everyone in the room that we’re lying through
our teeth. He doesn’t question our blood types, even though I know mine doesn’t
rate on a normal Human scale. And Cameron doesn’t push either, until Erik
leaves, taking his old-fashioned black doctor bag and empty blood bags with
him.

“I want the truth, and I want it now,” is what he says to
us.

Will eases himself onto the couch in the office, wincing
with the effort. The pain meds Erik gave us have yet to fully kick in.
According to the nurse practitioner, Will has two bruised ribs that could very
well be broken, but the best he could offer was a tight wrapping that
restricted movement and breath. “We got in a car acci—”

This doesn’t fly with Cameron.
“The truth.”

I shrink back in his swiveling desk chair; like the idiot I
am, I bump my freshly stitched arm against the armrest. I bite back the scream
that attempts to escape. Holy schnikes, stitches
hurt
.

But . . . not quite as much as parental disappointment.

Will takes a deep breath. “If you’d only have a look at the
truck, you’d see—”

He’s a horrible liar. Furthermore, I can’t believe he’s
willing to do this for me. Even now, even after he almost died to help protect
me. I love him for it, but I refuse to let him wade into the murky waters of
deceit in my name. I cradle my throbbing arm and hold my chin up. “Cameron,
there’s something I need to tell you.”

Will wisely shuts up, gratitude flashing in his eyes.

I pray inwardly that in the next few minutes, the father
will be as accepting of the truth as the son. So I tell him exactly what I am,
what I’m capable of, and what happened with the Elder out there in the woods. I
leave nothing out.

When I’m done, he sinks down next to Will on the couch,
staring at me with one of his patented inscrutable expressions. It’s one thing
to accept a girl into your heart and your family, even one who ran away and has
baggage that would make any sane soul run screaming into the distance; it’s an
entirely different matter accepting somebody who could be defined as unnatural
and possibly evil by those who don’t understand my kind.

But as a friend of mine once said, love requires risk. How
sad is it that I’m only now beginning to realize that love comes in many forms,
and that the risks involved need not necessarily be romantic in nature.

Love is a gift. Love is often given freely, sometimes by
people unexpected. And as generous and wonderful as it can be, it also
sometimes needs to be deserved and should never be based upon lies.

It’s a lesson I hope I haven’t learned too late.

Cameron finally comes to stand in front of me after several
minutes of forever silence, in which I contemplate a dozen different reactions
from him, a hand scrubbing over his face. He’s tired. And surprisingly not
raging. Or fearful. Which sprouts tiny, tender shoots of hope within the walls
of my chest. “I have a confession to make as well.”

Okay. Maybe I jumped the gun there. Maybe he’s gonna kick me
right out of here after all. Maybe he’s—

“I already knew you were a Magical. I’ve known for quite
some time.”

—gonna call the police or the military, and they’re going to
cut me open and—wait.
What?

“I’m sorry,” Will says for me, since my mouth is dangling
open in an unattractive and fly-luring fashion, “but did you just say you knew
Chloe was a . . .” He shoots me a guilty look, like he was going to dub me a
monster or freak and then thought better of it out of fear of me zapping him
into oblivion, too.

“A Magical.” Cameron pats his son on the back, a long sigh
escaping his lips. “Indeed I did. I suspected she was the missing Creator, but
I didn’t know for sure of her Magical heritage until the night she was in the
hospital.” He stands up and wanders over to his desk. Both Will and I watch him
in a fragile stillness as he picks up a framed photo of him, Will, and Will’s
mom, Molly.

He knew? He KNEW?

“And now, a confession for you, son.” Cameron gently touches
a finger to his wife’s smiling face. “The reason I am familiar with Magicals is
because your mother was one.”

Had the sky ripped apart and rained furious wombats down
upon us, I would not have been more surprised, because,
hello
. I SO DID
NOT SEE THIS ONE COMING.

My mouth flops open again, my eyes widening. As if we were
genuine blood and bone siblings, Will’s features match mine.

“Furthermore,” Cameron continues, voice hoarse, “Molliaria
Hellebore was not Human—not like I am. Your mother was an Elf. She immigrated
to our plane of existence for her father’s job when she was a teenager.”

Will’s mouth snaps shut, a sound suspiciously like the love
child of a gurgle and old-fashioned choking emitting from his thinning lips.

Will, an Elf? Or—half Elf? I can’t help but stare at him as
his version of reality collapses down around him in grand, movie disaster
fashion. He’s always been insanely good-looking, but Elvin? How could I have
missed that? Was it because I didn’t want him to be anything other than what I
had hoped for—a normal boy who fit into what I hoped to be a normal life?

Because studying him now, I can finally see those features.
The exotic slant of his eyes. His swan-like neck. His graceful, elongated
fingers. All of them are faint, hidden within the influence of his father’s
Human genetics. He’s a far cry from Callie Lotus, who radiates her Elvin
heritage. Her Human features are the ones that take a back seat. Or even Erik,
who I could tell was Elvin even as I was drowning in vomit. But Will—Will’s the
opposite. And I feel stupid for being so blind, and annoyed at my astonishment,
because why ought one species naturally outshine the other in all cases?

Cameron sets the photo down. “I know this is a lot to take
in, son, but—”

Adrenaline supersedes pain, because Will shoots off the
couch. He’s shaking—and I’m not sure if it’s in rage or shock. “Is this a
bloody joke?”

His father solemnly shakes his head.

Will turns to me, the plea in his dark eyes tugging on my
heartstrings, but I have no answers to give. Or explanations. Or anything other
than my support, which I attempt to offer in an awkward hug after an equally
awkward extraction from my chair.

Even his voice shakes against my ear. “Did you know?”

I tighten my hold against him as much as I can, given our
matching Frankenstein monster-like wounds. But he pulls away, adrift in his new
existence. “No. But, Will, it’s not—”

It’s not what, Chloe? Bad? Shocking? Reality destroying? The
worst thing? Because in this moment, I can see how all of these things could be
truth to him.

He waits for me to finish, but I can’t.

So Cameron tells us his story. How he met Molly, how they
fell in love, how he knew early on what she was and what she was capable of. Of
how they were met with stark disapproval from her parents, kept his in the
dark, and tried living within Annar’s society and boundaries until the strain
of their frowned-upon union got to be too much. How, after careful discussion
and consideration, they agreed that Molly would make a break from Magical
society and try to live life without Magic since she didn’t want her son to be
stigmatized as a half-breed like other children born of Magical and non unions.
How she and Cameron decided to keep all of this from Will during his childhood
and raise him simply as Human. How they eventually found an outpost of such
couples and children in Glasgow, and of how there are some, like Erik the nurse
practitioner, who’ve gravitated to Anchorage.