Sorceress, Interrupted - By A. J. Menden Page 0,33
do and then move on. There are women out there who should have never become mothers, and Cyrus’s ex just happened to be one of them. The only consequence for me from the spell was that I now look on Cyrus in a different light because I’d seen into his desires. I’d had magic-users come to me for revenge before, sure, but I’d never had anyone beg to make sure someone else had a happy life. Almost everyone asked for favors for themselves. The fact that this request came from a hardened criminal who I later found out was sending his sister every spare bit of cash to take care of his daughter made it even more astounding.
It was amazing. All because he knew he could only hurt her, Cyrus effectively took himself out of his daughter’s life. He’d sent her to live with a family who hated his guts and wouldn’t let him have any contact with her. That made his sacrifice so much bigger. Who would have thought Cyrus had that much nobility in him? He’d became worthy of my notice from that moment on. He was something beyond my ken, someone who I kept my eye on.
“She thinks your sister and her husband are her mom and dad,” I said quietly.
“I know,” he said, but somehow, the way he said it, I knew he still held out hope for a ghost of a memory of him floating around his daughter’s brain. That if she did ever see him, she would know who he was. “And I know it’s the healthiest thing for her. She needs to think Amanda and Derek are her parents. Better to think that than having a lousy alcoholic as Mommy and a lousy criminal as Daddy.” He turned away.
“Your sister would flip out if she saw you here,” I remarked.
“Which is why I took great pains to stay out of the way.”
“You also took great pains to stick out like a sore thumb,” I said. “Until I came along. Were you secretly hoping your sister would see you and say, ‘Oh, Cyrus, I’ve seen you in the papers, you’ve turned your life around and are hanging with the EHJ now, why don’t you come to lunch and I’ll introduce you to Sabrina?’ ”
“God, you’re such a bitch sometimes,” he said, turning away.
I pressed on. “That’s exactly it, isn’t it? You want Sabrina to see you on television or in the newspapers, saving the day with the Elite Hands of Justice, recognize you and ask Amanda if that’s her real daddy. Then Amanda will see you’re more than just a two-bit villain now, you’re a hero, and will welcome you to visit anytime you want.”
I sympathized so much with him, holding out hope against hope. To delude himself into thinking that was even possible, that someone who didn’t know him would one day wake up and realize how important he was to them? To delude himself into thinking that a happy ending is possible. I know full well it’s not. Delusions are for suckers. I certainly don’t hold on to them anymore, and I wanted to beat that silly optimism out of him.
But, seeing the look on his face while he watched his daughter, that look of fatherly love, even in the face of those hopeless expectations, made me so sad. And a part of me I’d wanted to believe quashed so many, many years ago, related in a big way.
I reached out a hand to touch him gently on the arm. It was a gesture of sympathy, of comfort.
He pulled away roughly, like my touch was fire. “Just stop.”
I was a little hurt that one of the few times I was being genuine and trying to offer comfort got rejected. Fine. He just needed someone to wake him out of his delusion. God knows I’d needed it before, when I fooled myself into thinking that maybe this time things would be different, my father would remember who I was or my lover wouldn’t grow old and die in front of me or wouldn’t just abandon me because he couldn’t handle my immortality. Harsh reality had repeatedly obliged over the centuries.
I stepped in to be the voice of reason before he wasted more fragile time and hope on his own personal delusion. “Cyrus, you do know that’s not going to happen, right?”
“Yes, goddamn it, I know! I’m not completely stupid, Fantazia. I know, okay?” He started pacing. “But it gives me something to hope