I slept like the dead that night. Which was a good thing, because if I hadn’t, I’d have been obsessing, but not about the right thing.
I figured I had every right to obsess about my situation, about my fears for the future, about whom I should trust. But when I woke up the next morning, what was the first thing I found myself thinking about? Ethan’s kiss. Has anyone seen my sense of proportion anywhere? Because I’d obviously lost it.
I tried not to think about it as I did the pre-coffee shuffle-walk to the bathroom. Then I tried not to think of it as I showered and brushed my teeth. I tried once again when I was getting dressed—still wearing Kimber’s castoffs, because, of course, I had nothing to my name.
Obviously, trying not to think about it, to wonder how much of my enjoyment had come from me and how much from the spell, to wonder whether I’d overreacted, wasn’t going to work when my mind had nothing else to focus on. So I decided to focus my thoughts elsewhere.
I dug Ethan’s cell phone out of my pocket, then stared at it for a long, indecisive moment before dialing my mother’s number. Yeah, it was oh-dark-thirty back in the States, but I didn’t think she’d mind. I also didn’t think she’d be able to help me—it’s hard to get a heck of a lot accomplished when your brain is sloshing around in a pool of alcohol. But it would be nice to hear a familiar voice, even if she did spend the entire call screaming at me, which I fully expected.
Foolishly optimistic of me to think I’d get an answer. She was probably pretty upset about me running away like that, and I knew what my mom did when she was upset. I wondered how long this bender was going to last.
I hung up without leaving a message. What would be the point?
I glanced at the clock. It was a little after nine, and I had no idea when I’d be hearing from Ethan and Kimber. Kimber had told me my dad was coming up before the Council sometime today. It was too early to hope he’d be home by now, even if the Council saw him first thing.
I reached under the neck of my shirt and ran my fingers over the cameo. In all the … excitement last night, I’d forgotten about how it had heated up once again. It felt cool and normal now. Maybe it was like a mood ring. I tried to think of all the times I’d felt the strange heat, and a pattern started to emerge: every time it had heated up, someone near me was using magic. I hadn’t noticed it every time magic was used, but then it was only in contact with my skin when I tucked it under the collar of my shirt.
I frowned. The very first time I’d noticed the cameo getting hot was when I’d been singing in the cell beneath Lachlan’s bakery. Maybe there had been magic at work then and I just hadn’t known about it. Or maybe I was just making up a pattern where one didn’t exist. After all, I couldn’t specifically remember whether the cameo had been over or under my shirt all those times I hadn’t felt the heat when magic was used.
Even though I’d just decided it was too early even to hope my dad was out of jail, I picked up the phone again and dialed his number. After all, it didn’t hurt to try.
He answered on the third ring. “Hello?”
I was so surprised that for a moment I couldn’t answer. Had I really just gotten that lucky? Or had the story about him being in jail been a big fat lie? “Hi, Dad,” I said when I found my voice.
“Dana!” His cry was so loud I had to hold the phone away from my ear. “Where are you? I’ve been worried sick about you!”
I swallowed hard, wishing I could quiet the alarm bells that were clanging in my head.
“Aunt Grace locked me up in a dungeon,” I said. It was a slight exaggeration. The room she’d locked me in had been quite comfortable, but still …
Dad sighed heavily. “Dana, honey, I’m so sorry. I should have known she’d pull something like that, but I sometimes have a blind spot where she’s concerned. She wouldn’t have hurt you, though. That I’m sure of. And I would have found you before long and gotten you out of there.”
“Well someone else got me out of there first, and I have to admit I’m feeling gun-shy.”
“I can’t imagine how you wouldn’t after what you’ve been through. Tell me where you are, and I’ll come get you immediately.”
I yearned to just blurt out my location, to let my dad come get me and take care of me, make all the bad stuff go away. But, biological connection or not, he was a stranger to me, and I wanted some answers before I ran headlong into his arms. “Aunt Grace told me you were in jail.” I tried not to make it sound like some kind of accusation.
“I’m afraid that’s true,” he admitted. “I suspect Grace engineered it, to make sure she could get to you before I could.”
A lump formed in my throat, because instinct—or cynicism—told me I wasn’t going to like the answer to my next question. “When did you get out?”
“Just yesterday,” he said, and despite having anticipated the answer, my knees gave out and I sat heavily on the edge of the bed. “I’ve been searching for you since the moment I was free,” Dad continued. “Grace said Lachlan was attacked and you were kidnapped. I knew bringing you here would cause some drama, but never anything like this. I’m so sorry.”
Yesterday, I had told Kimber a secret I’d never told anyone before. I’d actually allowed myself to trust her. And the whole time, she’d been lying to me, just pretending to be my friend so she could keep me away from my father. The knowledge made me ache from head to toe. All my habitual caution, and I’d fallen for her act hook, line, and sinker.