yet. Were those from Ivar? They must’ve really gone at it. “Have a seat.”
Ivar pulled out a chair at the conference table for her, and she sat, careful not to spill her coffee. He sat next to her, while Logan was situated closer to the screen, his green eyes serious and his long form in a torn T-shirt and gray jeans. The mood in the room felt heavy, as if gravity was pulling everyone down. How did the immortals affect the atmosphere in such a manner?
Garrett reached for a remote control on the mahogany table and clicked it toward the screen. “Meet Haven Daly, formerly known as Mary Agnes Lockship.”
A California driver’s license came up on the screen showing a twenty-something woman with white-blond hair, one black eye, and one green eye. Her skin was smooth and pale, and her expression somber.
“Whoa,” Ivar said, leaning forward. “White hair of a demon, multicolored eyes of a Fae. That had to cause some questions through the years.” He whistled. “Just five feet tall and what my mama would’ve called ‘willowy.’ The females of both species are petite, and she definitely fits that bill.”
Garrett nodded, his head cocked. “She hasn’t had an easy time of it.” He clicked the button again. “As a newborn, she was found outside of a church in Minnesota, taken into child protection services, and adopted at the age of three months by a minister and his wife.” Records flashed one after another on the screen. “An investigation conducted years later showed a multitude of attempted exorcisms by the good pastor and his flock.”
Bile rose in Promise’s throat. “I take it those weren’t pleasant.”
“No,” Garrett said, his jaw firming and his eyes blazing. “Not even close. She then spent time in different psychiatric hospitals, some good, and some terrible. Three of them have been shut down for abuse.” He growled low and then coughed to cover it.
Logan stared at the screen. “We managed to secure some of the records from those places. She thought demons were real. Thought her dreams were real, as well as the creatures that peopled them. They used drugs and therapy to convince her otherwise.” His voice was pained. “No offense, Mercy, but the Fae leaders are going to be held accountable.”
The screen image of Mercy was pale. “That’s fine, but most of the leaders who experimented are dead, mate. Do what you need to do.”
Promise reached under the table for Ivar’s hand. He’d gone stone cold and silent. Hadn’t he mentioned feeling protective of abused women because of his sister? He was probably planning murder right then of any Fae responsible. She wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to stop him.
He held her hand, his grip firm.
Garrett clicked again, and a picture of a skinny twelve-year-old Haven came up. “She was still Mary Agnes at this time—when she left the last psychiatric hospital and returned home.” His voice darkened and turned almost as hoarse as Ivar’s. “Two years passed, and child services were called in by a concerned neighbor after another exorcism. She was taken from the home and put into foster care for another two years.”
Promise held her stomach. It was terrible. “Tell me that time was all right for her.”
“I don’t know, but I doubt it,” Logan said. “She ran away at sixteen and didn’t show up again for five years. There are no records of her, and she might’ve lived on the streets, but she sends money every month to a commune called Mark’s Mountain off the grid in Northern California. She may have found a safe place there.”
Garrett clicked again to show a small house on a street with other small houses, all neat and tidy. “She reappeared at twenty-one and changed her name to Haven Daly. Attended community college for a semester and a half and then dropped out.”
If anything, the tension in the room had increased. Promise sipped her coffee, trying to shield herself from the stress the same way she protected her brain. Nope. Her skin still pricked, and her focus narrowed. “What is she doing now?”
“Working as a waitress,” Logan said. “And painting.”
“Where?” Ivar asked, leaning forward.
“She’s been selling online and has a showing set up for next week in Oregon. Her first showing.” Garrett pushed a button, and painting after painting flashed across the screen. Disturbing, angry, wild oils of hellish landscapes and dark places.
Ivar gasped. “Stop. Go back two.”
Garrett reversed the paintings to show a purple world with black mountains and a gray sky. The