Blood Promise Page 0,161

always going out of her way to feed me. In another life, she could have been my mother-in-law. In this one, I would always regard her as a kind of foster mother.

But she wasn't my real mother. Janine Hathaway was. And standing there with her, I was happy-so, so happy-that I was her daughter. She wasn't perfect, but no one was, as I was learning. She was, however, good and brave and fierce and compassionate-and I think she understood me more than I realized sometimes. If I could be half the woman she was, my life would be well spent.

"I was so worried," she told me, recovering herself. "Where did you go-I mean, I know now you were in Russia... but why?"

"I thought..." I swallowed and again saw Dimitri with my stake in his chest. "Well, there was something I had to do. I thought I had to do it on my own." I wasn't sure about that last part now. True, I had accomplished my goal on my own, but I was realizing now how many people loved me and were with me. Who knew how differently things might have turned out if I'd asked for help? Maybe it would have been easier.

"I have a lot of questions," she warned.

Her voice had toughened, and I smiled in spite of myself. Now she was back to the Janine Hathaway I knew. And I loved her for it. Her eyes flitted to my face and then to my neck, and I saw her stiffen. For a panicked moment, I wondered if Oksana had missed healing one of the bite marks.

The thought of my mother seeing what I'd lowered myself to in Siberia made my heart stop.

Instead, she reached out and touched the bright colors of the cashmere scarf, her face filled with wonder as much as shock. "This... this is Ibrahim's scarf... it's a family heirloom..."

"No, it belongs to this mobster guy named Abe..."

I stopped as soon as the name crossed my lips. Abe. Ibrahim. Hearing them both out loud made me realize how similar they were. Abe... Abe was short for Abraham in English. Abraham, Ibrahim. There was only a slight variation in the vowels. Abraham was a common enough name in the U.S., but I'd heard Ibrahim only once before, spoken in scorn by Queen Tatiana when referring to someone my mother had been involved with...

"Mom," I said disbelievingly. "You know Abe."

She was still touching the scarf, eyes filled with emotion once more-but a different kind than she'd had for me. "Yes, Rose. I know him."

"Please don't tell me..." Oh, man. Why couldn't I have been an illegitimate half-royal like Robert Doru? Or even the mail-man's daughter? "Please don't tell me Abe is my father..."

She didn't have to tell me. It was all over her face, her expression dreamily recalling some other time and place-some time and place that had undoubtedly involved my conception. Ugh.

"Oh God," I said. "I'm Zmey's daughter. Zmey Junior. Zmeyette, even."

That got her attention. She looked up at me. "What on earth are you talking about?"

"Nothing," I said. I was stunned, trying desperately to assimilate this new piece of data into my worldview. I summoned a picture of that sly, bearded face, trying to hunt down family resemblance. Everyone said my facial features were like my mom's when she was younger... but my coloring, the dark hair and eyes... yes, that was the same as Abe's. I'd always known my father was Turkish. That was Abe's mystery accent, the one not Russian but still foreign to my ears. Ibrahim must be the Turkish version of Abraham.

"How?" I asked. "How in the world did you get involved with someone like that?"

She looked offended. "Ibrahim is a wonderful man. You don't know him like I do."

"Obviously." I hesitated. "Mom... you must know. What is it that Abe does for a living?"

"He's a businessman. And he knows and does favors for a lot of people, which is why he has the influence he does."

"But what kind of business? I've heard it's illegal. It's not... oh God. Please tell me he isn't selling blood whores or something."

"What?" She looked shocked. "No. Of course not."

"But he is doing illegal things."

"Who's to say? He's never actually been caught for anything illegal."

"I swear, you almost sounded like you were trying to make a joke." I never would have expected her to defend a criminal, but I knew better than most how love could drive us to crazy acts.

"If he wants to tell