let Marcel get to you,” I said a few minutes into the drive.
“I never should’ve brought you there. We didn’t find any information on Theodore and who knows what was in that water.”
“I’ll ask Rita to make me something that will flush it out when we get home. It’ll be fine.”
“You don’t know that.” His eyes flicked to mine briefly. “I’d never forgive myself if he poisoned you.”
“Well, thank you for caring, but you’re only letting Marcel win by getting angry.”
“He just aggravates me. He thinks he can go around sacrificing people in rituals without any payback. Well, not on my watch.”
“Nor mine. Marcel will get his, don’t you worry about that.”
That lured a hint of a smile out of him. “People should be more scared of you.”
“Yes,” I agreed, grinning as I opened my palm and summoned a few tiny sparks. “They definitely should.”
I thought we’d go straight back to the house, but instead, Finn pulled up outside of Pamphrock’s apartment building. “The governor wanted you to visit Rebecca. She’s been asking for you.”
“Really? That’s sweet. But I haven’t done much research into the spell yet. I’m not even sure if I’m the woman for the job, to be honest. Perhaps he should just pay Rita to do it.”
“He doesn’t trust Rita. She’s powerful, but she’s unpredictable, and he’s only just gotten his daughter back. He won’t allow unpredictable people around her. Plus, he’s also taken a bit of a shine to you.”
“Piss off, he has not.” I folded my arms across my chest, then glanced back at Finn and asked curiously, “Has he?”
Finn let out a big bellow of a laugh. “Christ, no, he hasn’t taken a shine to you in that way. He just thinks you’re a good, trustworthy sort. Pamphrock values having people he can trust on his side.”
“Oh, well, that’s cool, I suppose. It’s a nice contrast to the vampires who think I’m the ultimate betrayer.”
Finn chuckled. “If you ever take up wrestling that could be your stage name.”
I laughed as we pulled into the underground car park of a fancy high rise apartment building. We took the elevator up to the very top floor since Pamphrock lived in the penthouse. I stood in between Finn and a silent Ira as we made the journey up.
The elevator opened directly into the penthouse. “Very swish,” I muttered to Finn.
Pamphrock, dressed casually in jeans and a sweatshirt, was there to greet us. He almost looked like an ordinary stay-at-home dad. He welcomed us inside, giving Finn a firm handshake, Ira a respectable nod, and me a full-bodied hug. Well, it was certainly nice to have someone be pleased to see me after all the quiet condemnation from Ethan.
Pamphrock led us through his impeccably furnished penthouse to a large living area with a view looking over the entire city. Surrounded by toys on the carpet in the middle of the room was Rebecca. She looked like a little doll, all dressed up in a dainty ensemble that would put Shirley Temple to shame.
It was a little anachronistic, actually.
These days people didn’t normally dress their kids so fancy. Then again, Pamphrock hailed from another era—an era where little girls of a certain class always had to look like little princesses.
I felt that familiar hum of recognition as I neared her, my blood sensing her sameness. I sat on the couch a few feet from her, just taking her in. When she lifted her head and saw me, her big brown eyes lit up.
“Tegan! Daddy said you were coming. I’ve been so excited.”
She rose and gave me a small, tight hug. I froze a little since I wasn’t used to being around kids. I didn’t know how to act around them.
Finn and Pamphrock stepped out onto the large balcony to chat, while Ira sat down beside me on the couch. Rebecca stared at him with wide eyes, in the way kids did when they saw someone who seemed different. Or, in Ira’s case, big and scary.
Ira stared back at her, then looked at me. I wondered if he could sense that Rebecca and I were the same.
Rebecca twisted a lock of hair around her finger and asked, “Who are you?”
Ira tilted his head at her but didn’t reply.
“His name’s Ira,” I answered. “He doesn’t speak.”
Rebecca gasped and grew excited at this piece of information. “Why not? Did he lose his voice? Did a bad person steal it like Ursula stole Ariel’s voice in The Little Mermaid?”