House of the Rising Sun (22 page)

Maybe the time had come for Harlow to make a new plan of her own. Two years of jail time—maybe less for good behavior—and she’d be free to make a new start. Half of this house was hers and that was ten times more space than she had in her cramped apartment. And with Augustine and Lally here, she wouldn’t have to worry the house wasn’t being taken care of while she was incarcerated.

She looked over at the photo of her mother. Olivia was smiling like she knew what Harlow was going to do. Maybe she did. Maybe that’s what the fortune-teller had been talking about when she’d said a parent was going to put her in danger and she’d see an enemy in a new light. Living here would definitely qualify as dangerous. She’d be outside of her comfort zone, forced to interact with living breathing people, not just avatars and screen names.

And if Augustine was the enemy, then yes, she was certainly seeing him in a new light. He wore the role of Guardian well. Almost as well as that suit.

With a deep breath, Harlow stood and went to join him. If she was going to live here, she might as well try to figure out what else her mother had been so in love with.

When the black-gloved hand reached out from beside him to welcome someone, Augustine almost jerked back in shock. Instead, he met Harlow’s amber gaze and raised his brows in question. She gave him a shrug that seemed resigned but not unhappy. More like she was prepared to deal with whatever the day held. She stayed with him for a while, eventually leaving his side to show some new people where the food was set up in the dining room.

A few minutes later, Lally came in and pulled him aside. “What did you do to that child?”

“Who? Harlow?” Now what?

“Yes. She came into the kitchen and thanked me for everything I’ve done for her mama and for being such a good friend to her and for all the work I’d put into making this day everything Miss Olivia wanted it to be. Made me downright weepy.” She pursed her lips. “You throw some kind of fae spell over her?”

“No, I swear.” He held his hands up to show they were empty. “She does seem like she’s had a change of heart, though.” It gave him hope for… something he wasn’t ready to put a name to yet.

Lally waggled her head. “Maybe all this death has given her a little come-to-Jesus moment and she’s realized life’s too short to be angry over what you can’t change.”

“Let’s hope you’re right.” He glanced over Lally’s brown curls. “Speaking of what you can’t change…”

His half brother, Mortalis, walked through the archway leading into the great room. At his side was the comarré Chrysabelle, the woman Augustine had escorted to the fae plane and the reason he’d been forced to run from the Elektos.

Lally turned to look in the same direction. “Be kind, Augustine. Your brother’s here to pay his respects, not cause you more grief.”

“Let’s hope you’re right.” He walked toward the other fae. “Mortalis. Chrysabelle.”

The comarré spoke first as she embraced him in a quick hug. “I’m deeply sorry for your loss. Olivia was a truly amazing woman and I feel honored I was able to know her in the small way I did.”

“Thank you.” He looked at Mortalis. “Are you here because she wanted to come or are you here out of choice?”

“Choice. But also to accompany Chrysabelle.” Mortalis shifted uncomfortably and made Augustine question how much he’d really wanted to come. “I know what Olivia meant to you and to the city. She was a good woman. Damn shame.” Chrysabelle nudged him gently with her elbow. “Also, I’m… proud of you for taking the Guardianship.”

Lost for words, Augustine stared at the fae across from him. Something was in the air today. They shared a father, but that’s where the connection ended. There wasn’t enough relationship between them to consider it a relationship. It was the same between Augustine and Blu, although she didn’t seem to have much use for Mortalis, either, and they were full-blooded siblings.

“Say thank you, Augustine,” Chrysabelle said quietly.

He nodded at his brother. “Thank you. That means a lot coming from you.”

Mortalis returned the nod. “I know it wasn’t under the best circumstances.”

“That’s for sure.”

Mortalis, dressed in full fae leathers as per his usual, rested his hand on the dagger hilt protruding from his belt. “If you need me for anything, you know where to find me.”

“That’s unexpected. But appreciated.” An offer of help? There was no more shock left in Augustine’s system. He smiled at Chrysabelle. “I have a feeling you played a big part in this.”

“A little.” She smiled sadly. “I really did want to pay my respects.”

“How did everything turn out for you after…” There were too many ears here for him to mention the Claustrum. “Our adventure?”

“Very well.”

He glanced down at her flat belly. “And the baby?”

“With his father.”

“Malcolm, right?”

She nodded. “Yes, and Malcolm and I are now married.”

Augustine raised his brows. “That’s pretty unusual for a vampire.”

“So is having a kid,” Mortalis added.

Chrysabelle laughed. “Oh, Uncle Morty, you love babysitting little Rafe.”

“This might officially go down as the weirdest conversation I’ve ever had,” Augustine said with a laugh. “Babysitting? Really?”

Chrysabelle patted Mortalis’s shoulder. “He needs the practice.”

Mortalis smiled suddenly. “Nyssa and I are about to have one of our own.”

The smile was almost as shocking as the news, but Augustine did his best not to overreact. “Does this have anything to do with your new attitude toward me?”

Mortalis lifted one shoulder. “Maybe.”

“Having a child changes everything,” Chrysabelle added.

Apparently. “Rafe, huh?”

“Raphael,” she said. “But Rafe suits him. He seems to know he’s the only vampire-comarré hybrid in existence. He’s… quite a handful at times.”

Mortalis snorted. “He’s exactly what Malcolm deserves.”

“Maybe I’ll get to meet the little terror someday. Like when my nephew is born.” Augustine reached out and shook his brother’s hand. “I really appreciate you coming. Both of you.
I need to talk to some more of the guests but please don’t leave without saying goodbye.”

“We won’t,” Chrysabelle assured him. She gave him another hug and a kiss on the cheek.

“Is Blu here?” Mortalis asked as they parted.

“Not yet, but I’m sure Loudreux will come, so it’s only a matter of time.” He’d kind of expected Loudreux to be the first to arrive since he was Prime, but so far he’d yet to show. If Loudreux didn’t come, his half sister Blu most likely wouldn’t be allowed to, either, unless she’d been given the day off.

The crowd in the house was almost overwhelming. He looked around for Harlow, but she wasn’t anywhere he could see. He pushed through the crowd, finally finding her standing alone near the stairs. The house was too crowded to pick out her pulse, but she almost looked like she was cowering. “You okay?”

She straightened a bit and did a little shrug/nod thing that did nothing to reassure him. “There’s a lot of people here.”

“And there’s a lot more to come.” He grabbed a glass of water from a passing server and put it in her hands.

She took a sip. “That fae you were talking to looked a lot like you. Especially now that your horns are coming back in.”

He looked toward where he’d been standing. She must have seen him with Mortalis. “He’s my half brother.”

“And the blonde with the crazy gold tattoos?”

Was that a hint of jealousy in Harlow’s amber eyes? More like his own delusions. “Her name’s Chrysabelle. She’s a comarré.”

“She’s very pretty.”

“She’s very married.” He let that sink in, casually adding, “To a vampire,” without much thought.

Harlow’s face went pale. “Why would anyone marry one of those monsters?” Horror clouded her eyes. “They killed my mother.”

Damn it, that had not been the right thing to say. “Not that kind of vampire.”

She glared at him. “There are other kinds? As in the kind that don’t kill people?”

“It’s complicated.” Also not the best answer he’d ever given.

She set the water on the hall table and wrapped her arms around herself, the diamonds at her wrist twinkling before they slid beneath one glove. “What isn’t complicated in this place? I thought I could do this. I don’t know.”

She was retreating fast and he wasn’t sure how to stop it. “It’s okay, it really is. You
can
do this. I’m here for you, Harlow.” He tapped his chest. “Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Her gaze went right through him. “People keep coming in.”

He looked toward the door. Fenton was entering with a few people behind him. One of them was Evander. That was interesting. And unexpected, but perhaps the wizard was attempting to stay in the fae’s good graces. Augustine returned his attention to Harlow. “I’ll handle it. Why don’t you take a break? Go up to your room for a little bit and get some peace.”

She nodded, but something in her eyes said she was already a million miles away.

M
iss Harlow? It’s time.”

“Thank you, Lally.” Harlow sat on the edge of the bed. She’d waited in her room until the last possible second. Now, judging by the quiet that had settled in, the throng of people who’d come to her mother’s memorial had moved outside to follow the horse and buggy to the cemetery.

The break from the crowd had been a good thing and although trepidation still filled her, she wasn’t going to miss this last chance to see her mother off. She slipped shoes on—her own flats this time for the walk to the cemetery—and headed down the steps to find Augustine.

Wearing an overcoat now, he stood in the foyer. She’d expected there to be some people still inside, but the space was wonderfully empty. He’d seen her near meltdown and hadn’t judged her. In fact, he’d been kind and understanding. Amazing how a little shared emotion had changed things between them. He smiled when he saw her. “Feel better?”

She nodded. “Where did everyone go?”

“Some are outside still talking, but the rest went home. I know the crowd overwhelmed you, but I can’t remember the last time so many people showed up to a memorial. There must have been over five hundred people through here. Livie would have loved it.”

Harlow twisted her toe into the floor. “She would have, I’m sure. I, on the other hand, almost needed medicating.”

“You did fine. Your mother liked her privacy, too, you know. You’re probably more like her than you realize.”

“I doubt that.”

He took a coat off the hall rack and held it out to her. “It’s turned a little cool now that the sun’s going down. Even with your long sleeves, you’ll want this.”

She slid her arms into the coat. Her mother’s perfume clung to it. “It
is
nice that so many people wanted to see her off. You said a lot of those people went home?”

“Livie wanted the interment to be private, so from here out it’s really just us.”

“You, me and Lally?”

He nodded. “And a few of her close friends and neighbors. Maybe twenty people, tops.”

“Okay.” She relaxed, exhaling softly.

“Easier to handle.”

“Yes.”

“Good. I’m guessing you’ve never seen or been part of a jazz funeral before, but it’s pretty simple. We follow the buggy while the band plays some hymns, then after the interment, they’ll play something happy as they leave and that’s about it. Kind of the abbreviated version, but that’s what Livie wanted.”

“How far of a walk is it?”

“Couple of blocks. Not far from the Guardian’s house, actually. You ready?”

She nodded, feeling slightly ill at ease again. She’d gone from thinking there was no way she could ever live here to thinking there was definitely a way if she had Augustine around to explain things. But she’d assumed that he’d be staying here, forgetting that he’d eventually move into the Guardian’s house, taking Lally with him. Very soon, Harlow would be forced to head home to face the consequences of her hacking before she could come back here. If that was still what she wanted in two
years. Actually, it might be all she had left after time served. Augustine would still look after the house, wouldn’t he, seeing as it was half his?

Mind rushing with new concerns, she walked with him to the door and down the steps. The small group of people had left a space between them and the buggy. Lally was already there waiting. She held a hand out as if to say, “Right here, next to me.”

Harlow took the spot, then Augustine fell into place beside her. The buggy driver nodded to the band in front and they began to play what sounded like “Nearer My God to Thee” and they were off, slowly.

Her mother’s urn sat strapped onto some sort of flat platform at the back of the buggy and high enough that it could be seen. The multicolored glass urn almost glowed with the rays of the setting sun glinting off it. Augustine was right. Olivia would have loved this. It almost felt like she was there in some way.

When they arrived at the cemetery, two police officers stood at the gates, nodding as the small party of mourners went in. They assembled around a crypt where a man with a Layman Brothers Funeral Home badge stood waiting in a black suit. He took the urn from the buggy driver, said a few words, then went into the crypt. When he came back out, he thanked everyone for coming.

The band assembled behind them broke into “When the Saints Come Marching In.” The mourners began to file out, but neither Lally nor Augustine moved, so Harlow stayed right where she was.

As distance muted the music, Augustine looked at her. “You want to go in? You can.”

“Into the crypt?”

Lally unpinned the red carnation from her coat. “It’s all right, child. Ain’t no boogeyman in there.” She walked up the
steps and into the crypt, returning a minute later without the carnation.

“I don’t have a flower—”

Augustine held out a long-stemmed red rose to her. She hadn’t seen him holding it. Maybe he’d pulled it from the spray on the buggy when they came in. She took it and went inside.

The urn was set into a niche in the wall. There were other urns, and some caskets, too, but she forced her mind to blank them out and concentrate on the only one that mattered. She set her flower beside Lally’s carnation. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I really wish things had been different between us. I do love you. And I will… try to be more like the person—the fae—you wanted me to be. Someday.” Her mother would understand what she meant.

She stepped back outside. A sharply dressed man approached the crypt. Augustine put Lally behind him and moved to stand in the man’s path. “Can I help you?”

The man stopped, his gaze coming to rest on Harlow for a moment before he answered. “I’d like to speak to Harlow.”

The small hairs on the back of her neck stood at attention for no reason she could name other than the way Augustine was acting. If he thought the man was dangerous, she was happy to go along with that. He stayed where he was, blocking the man’s path. “Who are you and what’s your business with her?”

The man had a high, sloped forehead and when he smiled, his eyes crinkled in a way that shouldn’t have seemed threatening, but gave her a strange vibe. “That’s between Harlow and me.”

She came down the steps but kept some distance between her and the man. “What’s your name?” Was he a creditor? A CCU agent? Could they have tracked her here? Of course they could have. Damn it. Her fine wasn’t due for at least three more weeks.

“My name is Joseph Branzino.” He held the smile while he looked at Harlow. “I’m your father.”

“I don’t like this.” Augustine paced the kitchen while Lally cleaned up the few remaining things the caterers had left behind. The way that man had laid claim to Harlow didn’t sit right. “I don’t like him, I don’t like how readily she agreed to talk to him, I don’t like how he just showed up.”

Lally sighed heavily, shaking her head. “I don’t like it, either. And I know Miss Olivia didn’t like him, but that’s Harlow’s father. Of course she’s going to talk to him. Child’s been trying to find out who he was for years. Miss Olivia told her he was dead, for land’s sake.”

“How do we know that’s her father? Did Livie ever tell you the man’s name?”

“Never.” She sank a pot into hot water. “Miss Olivia never talked about him except to say he was bad, bad news. Poison, she called him. You think he’s making it up? That he ain’t really her father?”

“Maybe. Harlow’s set to inherit a lot of property.”

“Man looks like he has plenty of his own, but I see your point.” Lally set the kettle on for tea.

“I’m not okay with this.”

“I don’t feel that good about it myself.” She pulled cups from one of the cabinets. “But what can we do? If Harlow wants to talk to him, who are we to say she can’t?”

“She can talk to him. But I don’t have to like him. Especially not if Livie thought he was poison. In fact—” A knock at the back door kept Augustine from going on. He opened it. “Fenton. Come in.”

Leather doctor-style bag in hand, the Elektos walked into the kitchen. “What’s going on? You seem agitated.”

“A man showed up at the cemetery claiming to be Harlow’s biological father.” He looked at the bag. “Are those the ashes?”

Fenton nodded. “Yes. I replaced the liner bag with another filled with wood ash. It won’t hold up if it’s checked, but I can’t imagine that happening.”

Augustine shrugged. “And if they do? So what. Livie wanted her ashes spread on the fae plane and that’s all that matters to me. If they say we can’t keep her urn in the cemetery, we’ll bring it home.”

Fenton looked toward the interior of the house. “This man who claims to be Harlow’s father, you think he’s not?”

“I think it’s bloody convenient he showed up now. And apparently, Olivia never liked him, either.”

Lally worried a lace-edged handkerchief. “Even though I believe the child should talk to him if she wants to, I agree with Augustine. The man’s timing makes a person wonder.”

Augustine ran a hand through his hair. “Harlow’s vulnerable right now. The thought of getting a crack at a relationship with the one parent who’s been kept from her all these years might be more than she can resist.”

Fenton pulled out a chair and sat. “What do you know about him? Is he fae? Do you at least have a name?”

“Joseph Branzino. And yes, he’s fae, but I don’t know what kind. He’s hiding it somehow, but I can still tell.”

Fenton took out his LMD and started tapping on it. He expanded something, then turned the screen around so Augustine could see it. “This the man talking to Harlow?”

“That’s him.”

Fenton started reading from the copy beneath the picture. “Says here he’s a businessman from Chicago. Imports and exports.”

The kettle whistled. Lally removed it from the fire and added the hot water to the teapot. “I told you he had money.”

Fenton tapped the screen dark, tucked the LMD away and stood. “The info online is suspiciously tidy. Let me dig a little deeper with our resources and see what I can find out. Also, I couldn’t find anything unusual about Petrick Hayden, but I’ll continue to dig.”

“Good. I’ll come by in the morning and we can talk about this more.” Augustine nodded at the bag on the table. “And thanks for helping me with Olivia.”

“It’s what we do.” Fenton tipped his head at Lally. “Ms. Hughes.”

As he left, Lally brought the teapot to the table. “You going to take those ashes to the fae plane now?”

“Not yet.” Augustine stared toward the library. He wanted to barge in, see what was going on. Make sure everything was okay. “Not while there’s the slightest chance Harlow’s in danger.”

Her father was
alive
. Every nerve in Harlow’s body pinged with energy. She was nervous and scared and excited and incredulous all at the same time. Hell, she was that and more. Sitting still took a lot of effort. She wanted to stand, to pace, to expend some of what was coursing through her. But more than that, she wanted answers. Fortunately, the man across from her seemed interested in providing them. “Why did you wait so long to contact me?”

Joseph’s smile went sad. “Olivia made me promise. When I saw that she’d passed on—may she rest in peace—I no longer felt obliged to that promise.”

That made sense, didn’t it? “I see.” She had so many questions, but she also had doubt. “I don’t mean to sound… that is,
how do I know…” She bit her lip. “It’s just that I have no way of knowing if you’re really my father.”

He nodded. “I understand that. If I were in your position, I’m sure I’d have doubts, too.” He touched his chest. “It’s my own fault we’re starting at zero. I should have pushed your mother more to let me be a part of your life, but…” He shrugged. “Your mother was a very stubborn woman.”

Harlow smiled. “She was that. She told me you were dead.”

He snorted softly. “That sounds like her.” He shook his head. “Look, I’d be happy to submit to a blood test, if that would make you more comfortable.”

“That’s very kind of you,” she said. But it would never happen. Determining paternity would mean testing her blood, too, and that would reveal just how much fae she had in her, something she preferred not to know. “Why do you think my mother refused to tell me anything about you? She talked about you like you were… not a good person.” That was putting it mildly.