Boundary Born (Boundary Magic Book 3) - Melissa F. Olson Page 0,52

with frustration, I staggered to my feet and stepped over Simon, who was giving me a reassuring nod as he struggled to his feet. I stumbled a little as I went through the living room, still a little shaky from blood loss and shock, but by the time I made it through the door, I was at a full run.

The sun was down, which would hide the new bloodstains on my sleeves, but it also made it harder to spot Emil. Then I caught movement in a streetlight down the block—a large figure barreling around the nearest corner. I sprinted after him, feeling slow and discombobulated.

What the hell was going on? Why would my father attack Maven? Wait, was he even my father? Sure, he’d shown me that picture of Valerya, who looked just like Sam, and he and I did look related. I was sure I hadn’t imagined that. But why would my biological father want to hurt Maven? Was he the one who’d been after her all along?

Wake up, Lex. Emil had belladonna in his system. What were the odds of two unrelated people having one of the fetters at the same time in the same place? Emil must have been the one who’d originally poisoned her and the Denver vampires. The next time I talked to Sam, I was gonna flip out at her.

I ran harder. Belladonna or not, Emil was surprisingly fast as he hurtled through the streets. I run three or four times a week, but not usually right after losing a third of my blood volume. At best I could only maintain the gap between us, never close it.

After nearly ten minutes I realized that he was running with certainty, like he knew exactly where he was going, and that scared me. What was he planning? Before I could work out what was ahead of us, Emil veered left, racing straight into the traffic on Third Street. I halted, but he managed to weave neatly through the cars, hitting the other side and regaining his stride. Shit. I was gonna have to follow.

I bolted forward, watching the incoming traffic and zigzagging as much as I could. I was so busy making sure I didn’t get hit that I nearly missed Emil’s sudden left turn. He circled the outside of a deserted parking lot, and now I was convinced he did have a plan. I imagined a map of Boulder in my head. The busy street to my left had to be Longbow Drive. But where was Emil going? There was nothing over here.

Then I remembered.

Boulder has so many tourist-friendly attractions that it’s easy to forget about the less-flashy ones, such as the Leanin’ Tree Museum and Sculpture Garden. It’s kind of a funky combination of a greeting card factory and a historical art museum. I’d never actually taken the indoor tour, but I liked to come to the sculpture garden sometimes for the quiet. It was a small, simple space, just grass interspersed with bronze figures in classic Western scenarios: an elk with his head lifted to bugle, a buffalo, that kind of thing.

Sure enough, Emil ran across the paved entrance that led to the museum grounds, barreling toward the sculpture garden. For a moment I thought he’d be trapped against the eastern wall of the garden—it was closed at night, and the entrance was around the side—but Emil ran straight into the chest-high hedges that formed the border, barely slowing down as he crashed through them and disappeared.

When I finally caught up, I paused just outside the broken hedges. There was no sense of movement inside, but he couldn’t have raced all the way through the garden and out the other side by now. Was he trying to ambush me? I squinted, but it was too dark to see anything but shadows. In the dim light, the statuary seemed strangely ominous.

I crept forward, cautious. “Emil?” I called. No reply. “Is that even your real name? Are you actually my father?”

No answer again. I didn’t like this. The garden was shaped roughly like a rectangle, with a corresponding oval-shaped path inside. Visitors could stroll around the oval walkway and see the statues on the grass. I stepped toward the path, strangely reluctant to cross onto it. This whole situation had “trap” written all over it.

Then again, what could happen? Emil didn’t have magic, and I would have noticed if he carried a firearm. “Okay, fine,” I yelled. “How about you tell me what you