Matter of Truth, A (25 page)

In the last week, other than talking to Zthane and key
members of the Guard, as well as the surprisingly sympathetic pair of Etienne
and Mac over tea, I have yet to answer for my actions over the last half-year.
A brief phone call from Astrid informed me that the Council is well aware of my
return and that they’ve been in contact with the Guard concerning the
debriefing I gave upon re-entry. Apparently Karl wasn’t kidding when he said
that Zthane was claiming I’d been on a top-secret Elders recon mission in
Alaska. So, during one of our daily meetings at Guard HQ, I confront Zthane
about this.

“I’m not afraid to take responsibility for my actions,” I
tell him, even though it’s a lie, because of course I’m scared. I’m tired of
living in fear, though, tired of always worrying about making the wrong step.
If I have to take the hit because I did something wrong, so be it. “And,
honestly, it will be all the worse if you’re caught lying about what I’ve done.
The Council—”

“Knows the truth already.” Zthane sighs deeply and leans
back in his chair, his fingers tented in front of him. When my eyebrows lift
up, he clarifies, “Well, certain people within the Council know—those
specifically on the Elders Subcommittee.” His dark eyes flick over to where
both Karl and Kellan are sitting. “There was a meeting two nights ago to
discuss some of the more relevant aspects of the situation.”

Huh. Mac mentioned this Subcommittee at tea yesterday,
saying he was part of it. But he never mentioned anything else, including that
he’d been discussing my case with his—our—peers.

Giuliana comes into the room, setting a tray of coffee down
on the conference table before handing Zthane a dossier.

I wait until the Elemental’s seated to ask, “Meaning?”

He pops off the lid to his coffee and pours in a pack of
sugar. “Meaning I told them about you and Dane’s escapades in Anchorage, and of
the contact you made with the Métis colony. The Subcommittee was quite
interested in these aspects and wishes to explore them further.” He recaps the
coffee. “Punishing you for the foibles of youth or the whatnot will only
distract the Council from the issues at hand. And Chloe, this is not the time
for that.”

I find myself laughing at that. Is this the equivalent of a
hand smacking? “
Foibles of youth?
Is that what we’re calling it?”

“Is there another term for it?” He re-tents his fingers, the
tips pressing up against his lips. “Frankly, you are not the first Magical to
do what you’ve done, and most certainly will not be the last.”

I nearly choke on my own coffee. “Excuse me?”

“Do you think you are the first of our kind to run screaming
for the hills? Or, for that matter, the first Creator?” His smile is tight.
“While not every Creator has done so, it’s not an entirely uncommon occurrence.
Despite what you think, the Council and Guard are keenly aware of the pressures
you are under concerning your craft, not to mention your—and I say this with
all the love in my heart—age and lack of experience.”

I pretty much only blink at him in return.

“Please do not feel as if I’m excusing your actions,” he says,
voice cool in the warm afternoon. “Nor are you free to take this as the Guard
or Subcommittee I reported to as giving you a free pass, but it will serve all
of our purposes far better if we focus on the tasks at hand. That, my dear, is
to deal with the Elders, as well as form diplomatic ties with the Métis. I
believe you are currently residing with several representatives of the
Anchorage colony.”

I can’t help but look over at Karl. He’s got his poker face
on, as does Kellan, who I’ve found out, is now in the upper echelon of Guard
management.

I turn back toward Zthane. “What kind of diplomatic ties?”

His smile loosens just a tiny bit. “The kind that will begin
the long road to recovery between our populations.”

Will cracks my bedroom door open.
“You decent?”

I shut the file that Zthane sent home with me. “What’s up?”

He leans against the doorframe and says quietly, “Your
mother is here to see you.”

I sit up on the bed and stare at him, slack jawed. Surely he
didn’t just say that my mother was here. My mother told me nearly a year ago
that she was siding with my father, that there was to be no more contact
between us until I relented and got Jonah to lift the ban he placed on Jens
Belladonna. Since I’d rather cut off my legs at the kneecaps than do such a
thing, radio silence had filled the space between us.

I clear my throat. “Astrid?”

Will frowns. “You mean Dad’s phone buddy? I’m afraid not.
This woman introduced herself as Abigail Lilywhite.” He shuts the door behind
him and joins me on the bed. “She’s sitting out there with Dad right now, but
if you want me to tell her to go to hell, I’ll be glad to do so. But . . . I’ve
got to be honest with you—she looks really nervous and a wee bit glum. It’s up
to you, though. Tell me what you want, and I’ll make it happen.”

My mother is here.

I have no idea how she got here, how she even knew where I
was staying, but my mother—Abigail Lilywhite—is here.

My knees wobble when I stand up. “No. I’ll . . . I’ll go
talk to her. It’s not your problem.”

He lays a hand on my shoulder; it’s steady and warm and
oh-so-brotherly. “Do you want me and Dad to stay out there with you guys? I’d
offer up Erik, too, but he’s down at Guard HQ talking with Zthane. Official
Métis business now and all.”

I tell him no, that I need to do this on my own. But this
only has Will reminding me that they’ll be here for me in any way I need them.

My heart kind of grows twenty sizes in this moment.

Sitting on the edge of the couch in the living room, holding
a cup of tea and petting my dog, is my mother. She looks exactly as I remember
her—beautiful and tall, her face devoid of most expressive emotions. When I
come into the room, though, she sets the cup down and slowly stands up.
Cameron, who’s been sitting across from her, does the same.

“Hello, Chloe,” my mother says.

All the moisture in my mouth miraculously disappears. “Mom,”
I croak in return.

Cameron quietly tells my mother it was nice to meet her and
excuses himself; on his way out of the room, he pulls me in for a quick hug and
kiss, whispering words his son told me just minutes before. And then I’m alone
with my mother for the first time in nearly a year.

“You look thin,” she says, and it’s enough to make me want
to laugh bitterly, because it’s what she said during our last meeting, too.

I uproot my feet and somehow make it across the room to sit
down in the space previously occupied by Cameron. She sits down, too, and we
let the familiar silence that has defined our relationship for so long fill the
space between us.

I can’t take it, though. Not after everything that’s
happened. I break first. “What are you doing here?”

Her eyes do not stray from the cup of tea she’s reclaimed.
“Is it really that surprising that I would want to come and see if my daughter,
who has been missing for half a year, is okay?”

I think prior to today, I might have accepted this comment
from her. Built up hope to go with it. I might have let it slide by without
much argument. But that girl . . . I left that girl behind. “Actually, yes,
considering you and Dad basically disowned me.”

She winces, and it’s enough to startle me back into my
chair. “Chloe . . .” She lets out a long, melancholy sigh and sets the cup back
down, untouched. “Hindsight is always twenty-twenty. I know it will not mean
much to you, but if I could go back and relive that day, I might do it
differently.”

My unattractive gaping lets her know just how I feel about
the sincerity of such a statement.

She fingers the edge of her blazer as she coolly regards me.
“Your hair is different. It’s . . . I think I preferred the brown. This blonde
is too brittle for someone like you.”

“Seriously? That’s what you have to say to me? Just—
oh,
my bad for treating you, my only daughter, like crap, and by the way your hair
sucks
?”

“Rome wasn’t built in a day,” she practically whispers. And
it hits me, really hits me, that my mother is sitting in this living room with
me and my father is not. My mother, my cold fish of a mother, just actually
admitted she’d made a mistake. What did I do in return?

I acted like a bratty child.

“I’m sorry,” I tell her. “That was unfair of me.”

She sucks in a breath and shakes her head before letting it
out. “You and I . . .” A wan smile fills out her thin lips. “We are not good at
communicating with one another. We never have been. It will take some time to
learn how to do it.”

Is she . . . is she saying what I think she’s saying?

“These people you’re living with—these nons—”

I stop this nonsense immediately. “Cameron was married to
Molliaria Hellebore; thus, Will is a Métis. No matter what they are or aren’t,
I won’t stand for you saying anything bad about them.”

Her smile tightens. “I was not disparaging them. I was
merely saying that I’m glad you are somewhere with people who seem to have your
best interest at heart.”

Oh. My. Gods. Am I asleep? Is this really happening?

“I will admit I know very little about the situation, but
from the small discussion I had with Cameron, his affections toward you were
obvious. The same with . . . Will, you said?”

“I love them,” I tell her. “They took me in and loved me and
accepted me.” My voice shakes. “Cameron Dane has been more of a father to me
than Noel Lilywhite ever has.”

I can’t tell if this hurts her or not, as she merely nods
her head in acquiescence.

It hurt to even ask, but I do it anyway. “Where is Dad?”

“He chose not to come today. He is . . .” She sighs again
and smoothes imaginary wrinkles on her slacks. “Your father is who he is. That
said, he is aware of where I am. He is also aware that, if he does not approve
of my actions and choices, that is his choice, not mine.”

My mouth drops open.

“I never had the warmest of relationships with my own
mother. It is very probable that I do not have it in me to ever be the mother
that you want. But . . .” She leans forward, the ice in her green eyes softening,
if even just a teeny fraction. “But I would like the chance to see if I ever
could be. I have squandered too many years being selfish rather than being a
mother. You’re twenty years old; I can never reclaim that time. I can only ask
that, from this moment forth, you give me a chance to try to get to know you,
and for you to get to know me. It should never take a mother nearly losing her
child to make her realize just how precious that person is to them.”

I pull my hair back and study her. Really study her. She
seems . . . sincere.

Rome wasn’t built in a day
.

I blink tears that threaten to overwhelm me back. “No
promises.”

She lets hers fall—just a few, but it’s enough to crack the
ice around my heart. “That’s good enough for me.”

When she leaves a quarter of an hour later, we hug. It’s
awkward as all hell and short, but it’s a hug. And then I ask her a question
that’s been on my mind since I first found out she was sitting in my living
room. I ask her how she knew where I was.

She grips the doorknobs, twisting it open. “Jonah told me
when I called him inquiring about you, but only after he let me know what he
thought of me as a parent.”

Had she reached in and plucked out my heart, I don’t think I
could have been more stunned.

In the next few seconds, she and her surprises are gone in a
swish of perfume. I lean back against the door, attempting to piece together
what just happened. As confused as I am, as much as my heart aches, I know one
thing to be true.

My mother just laid down the first brick in what I can only
hope will be our foundation.

The sun is bright and warm this morning as I relax on the
wide patio outside of the Dane’s apartment with Nell at my feet, and I have to
admit, after months of living where cold, snow, and darkness were the norm, it’s
a welcome change. I lean my face back and let the warmth seep over my skin.

I’ve just tried calling Cora for what seems to be the tenth
time since coming back to Annar, only to reach her voicemail. My path to
reaching out to my friends has been riddled with roadblocks, although I’ve
talked to a few of them by phone so far. Lizzie and Graham are currently on a
break; she claims that the physical distance between them has begun to take its
toll on their relationship. Meg and Alex got a dog, or—as she called it—a
starter baby. He seemed annoyed by the whole thing, which I could totally get
because Meg apparently dresses the dog up in clothes. But as nice as these
conversations have been so far, the distance between all of us—once so
close—has grown. And I’m fully aware that’s on me.

“You remind me of a cat we had when I was little, one who
liked to lay in front of windows and doors so it could soak up the rays.”

I open my eyes and find Callie standing in the doorway. I
can’t hide my smile; it’s good to see her. “At least you didn’t liken me to a
lizard on a rock or something.”

She sits down in the chair across from me and passes over a
shopping bag. But I’m not interested in what she’s brought me to wear; I’m more
interested in my friend and how, despite the months in between the last time we
hung out, it feels like time has barely moved at all.

At least this relationship has not deteriorated for the
worse.

“Cal—”

“You know,” she says, as if I haven’t spoken at all, “Annar
in the spring is really beautiful. Don’t you think?”

I know she doesn’t want to talk about spring, though. “I
missed you,” I tell her.

She leans back in the chair and studies me, her green eyes
narrowing. Nell trots over and licks her hand. “Good gods, girl. Why is it
still this trashy blonde?”

“I guess I haven’t gotten around to finding a good hair
stylist to do it.” I tug on the ends, now scraping my shoulders. “I didn’t want
to risk doing a poor job at home. Any recommendations?”

She pulls out her phone. “Is today too early?”

I can’t help but laugh. So many things have changed, but not
Callie Lotus—and for that I am so grateful. I sit back as she calls in a favor
to get me into her hair stylist.

When she’s done, she shoves her phone back into her purse
before leaning back in the chair. “What you did was really shitty, Chloe.”

I totally deserve that.

She drums her fingers across her stomach. “I mean—you bailed
on me that day. Left me to the wolves when I couldn’t produce you afterward.
So, I’m kind of torn here. Part of me wants to kick your ass for what you put
us all through, and the other just wants to hug you because I’ve been worried
as all hell.”

I think I already know, but I ask anyways. “Wolves?”

“What do you know so far of what went down once you left?”

I scrub my face. Gods. Facing up to one’s actions is no easy
task. “I have bits and pieces. Mind filling me in?”

As she has done in the past, Callie doesn’t soft shoe around
the bitter truth. She tells me how, once Jonah came home and found my purse and
phone left behind, he immediately called her. And then, when she couldn’t
produce me, he called Kellan and from there, they went to every single one of
their houses to search for me. Days went by, no news came, and the Guard became
involved. Jonah proceeded to tear apart my apartment, and when he found my
ring, the shit truly hit the fan. People were scared that I’d been attacked by
the Elders, but she says that Jonah and Kellan always knew differently. From
the moment he found my ring, Callie says Jonah knew what I’d done.

My heart breaks when I hear her tell me, in a clinical
voice, of how he desperately tried to hold it together for work. That Astrid
constantly worried about him, how she tried to get him to move in with her but
he balked, claimed he didn’t want to inconvenience anyone any further than he
already had. Of how they finally convinced the twins to at least move in
together, since Kellan was having a hard time, too—although, according to
Callie, it wasn’t as intense as what Jonah was going through because Kellan
already knew what it was like to live without his Connection.

She steps on the pieces of my heart so freshly cracked and
grinds them into dust below me when she tells me how Jonah basically slid into
some kind of robo-mode and threw himself into work. She tried to talk to him
about it, Astrid, too—even Kellan, but two months into my absence, he simply
stopped talking about me in any capacity other than directives toward the
Guard’s search to find me.

As for Kellan—Kellan did what Kellan has always done when
dealing with his pain.

When she’s done, I tell her, “I love him.”

Her eyebrows lift up.

“Jonah, I mean.” I’m well aware my smile is brittle, and
that I’m declaring this to another person who lost their heart to him at a
young age, one that even today may still feel that way. “I realized it in
Alaska. Realized . . . no matter what I feel for Kellan—who I still and always
will love desperately, make no mistake about that—it’s nothing compared to the
need I have for Jonah. My life is crazy, and I know it sounds weird, but he’s
been the only true consistency my entire life. He’s my rock when everything
else is upside down . . . and . . . I love him, Cal. I came home, ready to tell
him that, but now he wants nothing to do with me.” I lean my head back against
the couch and stare up into the puffy white clouds in a pale blue sky. “Which,
in a way, is exactly what I deserve after what I’ve done.”

I hear rather than see her sigh.

Tentatively, hopefully—“How is he now? Do you know?”

“The same. A work-a-holic. He’s on the Elders Subcommittee,
you know.”

My head snaps forward so I can stare at her. I really should
get a roster of the damn committee already.

She rolls her eyes. “Yes, it means what you think it means.
Obviously, he’s completely aware of everything that went down in Alaska and
Russia now that Zthane finally spilled the beans. And before you ask how I
know, obviously my mom is on the Subcommittee, too.”

My whispered question about whether or not there’s still
hope barely voices against the sounds of the city behind us.

“Here’s my two cents on the issue—which ought to come with a
disclaimer, since he’s not actually speaking to me about you or anything. But .
. . you threw J for a loop, Chloe. Big time. He’s had a lot of loss in his
life, what with his mom and Uncle Joey—even, to some extent, Hannah; it’s in
his nature to withdraw into himself, especially since his father was always on
him and Kel to not embarrass the family by acting overemotional.” She grimaces
and adds, “
Unprofessional
. Can you believe it?” She shakes her head.
“But let’s not talk about Ewan Whitecomb and his idiotic notions on how his
children ought to act. We’re talking about how he lost his mom and then Joey,
two of the most important people in his life, and how he lost
you
, only
to have you come back looking like a whole different person. I honestly don’t
think J knows how to deal with it. Not like Kel, anyway, who’s long learned how
to deal with life without you. Jonah’s hurting right now. I mean—it’s obvious
to us all he’s thinking about you, and trying in his own way to . . . I don’t
know . . .
help
you via the Subcommittee the best he can, but . . .” She
leans forward. “You need to give him some time.”

Dammit. I’ve started to cry. Gods, I’ve made such a mess of
everything.

“What’s going on out here?”

Will’s standing in the open French doors, holding an open
cardboard box. Nell jumps up in an effort to get to the box.

I wipe my eyes. “Nothing. Just . . .” I quickly glance at
Callie, who is staring at Will. Like . . . really staring, and I can’t tell if
it’s because she’s annoyed he’s here, fascinated with him, disgusted he’s
carrying food, or finds him extremely hot. “A reality check, I guess.” I motion
toward Callie. “You remember Callie Lotus?”

“How could I forget,” he says flatly, dropping the box on the
glass table in front of me. He gently pushes his dog away from the table.
“Adopted daughter of my Godmother, biological offspring of my Godfather,” he
waves a hand between them, “fellow Métis, etc . . . etc . . .”

Callie’s frown deepens, but her eyes do not leave him.

He sinks down on the couch next to me and drags the box
closer. “Do you know how long it took me to find this bloody hot dog cart of
yours? And then how long I had to wait in line to buy these things?”

I press a hand lovingly against his cheek—bless this boy for
both the hot dogs and for trying to change the subject to something less
painful—and then reach for one of my special treats. Good lords, have I missed
the Gnomish hot dog cart by the entrance to Annar’s central plaza. “Thank you
for braving the big city for me.”

“Here to steal more of my tequila?” he says to Callie.

She’s sucking on a lemon when she says, “As a matter of
fact, I’m here to invite you all to dinner Friday night. Mom thinks it would be
. . .”—she goes to roll her eyes, but thinks better of it—“a good idea to
reacquaint”—her face pinches even tighter—“herself with you and your father,
although I have no idea why.” She flips the end of her long, silvery ponytail
up to inspect non-existent split ends. “And of course, see you, Chloe. Mom’s
missed you, too.”

“Reacquainted,” Will snorts. “You do know that they’ve been
chatting on the phone together, right? I think Dad even went and had lunch with
your mum one day.”

Callie and Will stare at each other so long and hard I
actually start feeling uncomfortable. I slowly unwrap one of the hot dogs. “Is
this like one of your family dinners?”

All the weirdness (hostility? I still can’t tell) she’d just
shown Will melts into pity. “If you’re asking if J will be there, then no. He’s
off on a mission to South Africa in the morning. Kel will be, though. He’ll be
coming back from Oklahoma City just in time.”

I remember how desperate I used to be to spend time with
Kellan, how, if I’m being honest with myself, I still am, but right now? I’d
give anything and everything to even have five minutes alone with Jonah. Or,
hell, even just be in the same room as him.

It would be so easy right now to just give in to the
Connection I have with Kellan. Just . . . embrace the love I feel for him and
see what we would be like together. But the more I’ve thought about it over the
last few days, and despite the temptation it truly taunts me with, the more I
know it wouldn’t be right. Because, even if Kellan and I were together, I’d be
thinking about Jonah. Worrying about him. Loving him. Wanting him. Needing him.

And as mercenary as it sounds, that’s the key. I love them
both, but I need—
want
—Jonah in my life more.

As much as it terrifies me, I know it’s time Kellan and I
finally have a talk.