Blood of Zeus (Blood of Zeus #1) - Meredith Wild Page 0,46
advocate. A quiet cheerleader for the good in me. But tonight something’s changed. I worry it’s his own fear at play. We’ve never spoken about the circumstances that brought such darkness into his life. Like many family stories, everyone seems to know the broad strokes, but too many of the details are missing.
“Gramps?”
“What?” he grates.
“What really happened to you?” I whisper. “I don’t understand how anyone could think you deserve all this.”
“You know enough, Kara. I’m not dredging up the gory details for you.”
“But I want to know. Maybe I even need to.”
“It’s a long story.”
Part of it the rest of the world already knows. That Giovani Valari should have died forty years ago when Malcolm Caulfield, husband of one of the most successful starlets of the time, shot him in cold blood before turning the gun on his wife and himself. Gio clung to life, drifted into a short coma, and eventually flatlined before he miraculously pulled through. Malcolm and Penelope Caulfield weren’t so lucky.
In the weeks after, rumors circulated that Caulfield’s violence was due to an affair between Gio and Penelope, but with no one to speak to the truth but him, the rumors stayed rumors. None of it explained why my grandfather was able to escape the grip of death and an eternity in hell, or why he ended up in the underworld to begin with.
“Gramps?” I prompt again. “Please. You keep saying that I don’t know and I don’t understand. So help me to do that.” I reach for his hands. “Help me see.”
My fingers barely brush his before the man rises sharply and starts tidying the kitchen with haste. “Has it occurred to you that I’m not especially proud of the reasons that brought me into all this to begin with?”
I contemplate that for a moment. “Considering I’ve been raised in a family of demons, I’m not confident that any confession could color my opinion of you.”
He wipes down the already clean counter vigorously. “I was not a saint. Pride. Envy. Greed. You name it. You might think looking into the mouth of hell and getting a second chance could change a man. Apparently your grandmother was the only one who could do that. Whoever’s calling the shots down there must know what they’re doing.”
“Okay, they were determined to make an example out of you. I got that part. What I want to know is why.”
He turns toward me, his lips pulled tight. “Because I earned my ticket there, and I still managed to hitch a way out. There’s nothing they hate more than a stolen soul.” His soft eyes swim with pain. “Sometimes I wonder what’s worse. An eternity down there or living every day knowing this is all my fault. That my freedom, if we can even call it that, robbed you of yours.”
I try to absorb the blow of that hard truth. He’s my grandfather. I wouldn’t exist without him. But was I really brought into the world with no other purpose than to be a pawn in his punishment? As much as I love him, his misdeeds inked my own fate. I know that as a crushing certainty now.
He exhales a ragged sigh. “I’m sorry, Kara. I’m not much good for visiting right now. Why don’t you come by in a week or two, ladybug? I haven’t felt like myself lately.” He steps closer to give my shoulder an affectionate squeeze. “Good night.”
Before I can argue for him to stay, he’s already climbed the stairs to his bedroom. I don’t want to leave, but I feel awkward lingering. I can at least attempt to sort out my thoughts on my way home, though I’m not confident I will.
I internally berate myself for putting Gramps in such a conflicting position. He loves me, I’m sure. All the more reason to want to shield me from a fate he knows too well. A penance with which he’s already been tortured.
I walk through the main house, but before I can reach the front door, Dalton is there. With a smooth swoosh, he swings it open for my mother’s entrance.
She shoots me a gleaming smile when she sees me. “Kara! You’re here! How perfect!”
She saunters toward me, and I meet her for a brief hug. Over her shoulder, I can see another figure following behind. She pulls back and gestures toward the man who must have been her date for the evening.
“Arden. Come and meet Kara. Kara, this is Arden Prieto.”