Hellbender - Dana Cameron Page 0,23

part of a gang of vigilantes, at least not with the sense my mother had suggested, not knowing he was Fangborn, and not knowing she was, either. Maybe it was because I finally knew what I was, that I wasn’t crazy, a killer, and that I wouldn’t have been ashamed of myself when we finally met, which I guess I was still hoping to do.

Back in the room with the sword, I brushed the tears away with the back of my hand and cleared my throat a couple of times.

Ken-san put a glass of water near my hand, and I nodded thanks, drinking thirstily.

“We have a plan underway to get you home,” he said. “And I have a time set up for you to call the Family in Boston. They know you are alive—”

I’d forgotten trying to call home. “How . . . are they okay? Is—”

“Losses and confusion, but so far, we’re still a secret. Barely, from what I can tell—there was a lot of chaos. Explosions, buildings on fire, reports of gas leaks and sewer breaks.”

“Do you know how many were . . . lost?” I tried not to think that the worst had befallen my human and Fangborn families, but the battle had been brutal and covered a large area near downtown Boston. Was it possible that I might have sensed something if anything had happened to one of them?

He shook his head. “The details are coming in, only slowly. The main emphasis right now is to make up a most plausible explanation and keep the Family out of the media for as long as possible.”

“Yeah, but . . .” To me, knowing who was alive and who was dead was more important than the secret, but there was more than my needs at stake. If we could contain the battle, we’d gain some time in trying to ready ourselves for I-Day.

The Order was making that increasingly difficult. “If you find out anything, will you—”

“Yes, of course.”

He shrugged and slid a file across the table. “But for now, you should look at these.”

There were three documents in the file; he left me alone to read them: a Fangborn will; a copy of my father’s will for the state of New York, where he had a legal residence; and a note—for me. Zoe Miller, by that name.

My mother had run away as soon as she knew she was pregnant with me. He wasn’t supposed to know I existed. We both spent a lot of energy and heartache making sure he didn’t find us, because she didn’t know he was Fangborn, and she was, too. Her early life had been spent at an “asylum” where her blood had been altered intentionally, to hide her identity from herself. Senator Knight had collaborated with Porter, the man who’d done the experiments, in the name of aiding the war effort, but eventually killed him when he went too far. The Order of Nicomedia, however, flourished with the research of his son, Sebastian Porter. In many ways, Senator Knight was my enemy long before I was born.

The New York will said that if I could be located, I was his heir. If not, whatever he had should go to the kitty to fund Fangborn activity. It wasn’t a lot of money—his cover job as an insurance claims adjuster didn’t pay well—but he did declare me as part of his family, which I understood gave me, not rights within the Fangborn society, but . . . standing.

So, not entirely a stray. I had a family within the Family, and maybe even close Cousins, if I wanted to look them up. Maybe I would.

The letter cleared up many of the mysteries the first two documents presented me. I came very close to trying out a little oracular push to see if I could get anything else—an idea of my father’s voice or personality or intent—from the document, but caught myself in time. I just couldn’t bring myself to try out my “extra” powers just yet.

Dear Zoe,

You don’t know me, and if you’re reading this, well . . . I’m sorry, is all I can say. This is not what I wanted for you or for us, but if my choices kept you safe, then that’s okay by me. I’m just a werewolf, working in the Family business. Nothing special about me, until you came along, and with you, a whole bunch of mysteries I hope I’ll get to solve one day.

Your mother and I .