The Seeker's Revenge Read online

  My mouth wanted to drop open. This was not what I expected from my father, especially to one of his detectives. I watched him carefully. I still didn’t think I was going to give him the benefit of the doubt like Rumple suggested earlier, but maybe there was more to this than I initially believed. I wasn’t exactly sure what that could be. And while I still thought there were some things that were black and white...maybe this started to tamper with shades of grey. Maybe I was wrong.

  “You two,” he said. “Up. Let’s go.”

  His voice was gruff, and though he seemed to be addressing both of his, his gaze was fixed on Rumple alone. Rumple didn’t seem bothered by it one bit, sliding out of his seat and helping me out of mine. During the entire interrogation, he never strayed too far from my side, and even now, we continued to hold onto each other. My father noticed everything, and I was sure he saw that as well. Judging from the way his lips twisted into a tight, thin line, he wasn’t exactly pleased by it, but there was nothing he could do about it, and I wasn’t going to stop holding Rumple’s hand just to make him more comfortable.

  We headed out if the station through the back, my father right behind us. Instead of remaining in the small building and letting us go, he followed us out. His boots crunched on the gravel, and he stepped around us so he was in front now.

  “Trail,” he barked under his breath. This time, he wasn’t even looking at either of us, walking briskly to the bike trail behind the station.

  We had no choice but to follow him. Part of me wondered if he was leading us to the Blood Forest so he could call the Lycans and have them murder Rumple where no one could hear him scream. Then again, Rumple could always vanish if he needed to.

  The bike trail was much different in the dead of night than during the day. For one, we didn’t have to worry about anyone interrupting us, didn’t have to worry about dodging bikers coming fast from behind. We could simply walk it. However, darkness made it difficult to see, and there were no lights that opened up the trail. Shadows clawed out onto it, like long, scraggly fingers trying to clutch its next victim. Even the noises seemed more ominous. Was the rustle of the leaves overhead simply the soft wind or was there some sort of creature moving around up there?

  “All right,” my father said when we were far enough on it that we wouldn’t be overheard by anyone, and we would clearly hear anyone approaching. At the same time, we were still far away enough from the edge of the Blood Forest, so it was doubtful we would run into any of the Lycans either. I wasn’t sure safe was the right word, but we were okay for now. “Tell me what happened.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “What do you mean?” I asked.

  My father whirled around me, hurting an index finger in my face. “Don’t bullshit me, Alice,” he said. Shadows crossed his face but I could clearly see the exasperation on it. “I have multiple witnesses that said magic was used tonight at the residence of Daniel Daloway. You need to tell me everything you know so I can square this away.”

  “You mean, so you can make it go away,” I said before I could stop myself. “Like you made the truth about what happened to Anna and Mary Stone go away.”

  My father flinched like I struck him across the face, and maybe, in a way, I had.

  “There are many, many things you don’t understand -”

  “And yet, you won’t help me,” I said, interrupting him. I broke free from Rumple’s hold, shoving my hands in the pockets of my jacket, pacing a few feet before spinning on the balls of my feet to turn and pace the other way. “You won’t help me understand.”

  “I’m trying to protect you,” my father said, as though this was obvious. As though this made everything okay.

  “I don’t need you to protect me,” I told him. “I need the truth.”

  My father glanced at Rumple before returning his gaze back on me. “Perhaps we should discuss this somewhere more privately,” he suggested. I instantly recognized his tone. It was the same one he used on the bad guys, but not just any bad guys, the crazy ones. He was trying to reason with me.

  I bristled at the implication. “No,” I snapped, curling my fingers into balls at my side. “No. If we’re going to talk, you can talk in front of him.”

  My father glanced over at Rumple. “What, exactly, is the nature of your relationship?” he asked.

  I couldn’t tell if he was asking me or if the question was directed at Rumple. I was surprised there was no demand in his tone, not insistence that it be answered. However, the fact that it was asked in this context at all stroked my ire.

  “That’s what you want to know?” I asked, throwing my arms out. “That? People think I’m using ShadowMagic - me, a human - and you want to know if me and Rumple are sleeping together?”

  My father’s nose twitched at my bluntness. “I wouldn’t go as far to ask the intimate details of your relationship, pumpkin,” he said, shifting his weight and running his fingers through his hair. “But I do want to know who you’ve surrounded yourself with in order to understand the influence you’ve been under and how...how deep it goes.”

  “Influence?” I asked. My temper flared again. It almost felt as though he looked at me like I was nothing more than a child who couldn’t figure out what choice to make, like he didn’t trust me to make the decisions he thought was best for me. “I can make up my own mind, you know.”

  “The Imp has compulsion -”

  “I would never use it on her,” Rumple said in a dark voice.

  I clenched my teeth together. The truth of the matter was, he did use compulsion on me. Maybe not with any ill-intention, but he had used my name to pull the truth out of me. Except I was able to resist it. Whether that made it right or not, I didn’t know, but to hear the words come from my father, to hear how close to the mark they were, left me more uncomfortable than I would have liked to be.

  “Well, I do hope that is the case, but I find myself reserving my judgment,” my father said, which was more diplomatic than I expected.

  “Dad,” I said, holding up a hand. “There’s clearly something...something inside of me. And I’m almost positive you knew about it. And maybe that’s why you made choices. Maybe that’s why you can’t tell me the truth about Mary Stone or the Mage Mage or Anna. But things have a way of getting out. The truth has a funny way of getting out. And I’d just...I want it to be from you.”

  He pressed his lips together, flaring his nostrils. He took a deep breath, then another. I could tell he was thinking about my proposition to him. He wanted to. I knew that. And I realized I wanted him to take it. I wanted to fix everything that was broken between us and make it right. Now that I knew I wasn’t who I thought I was, I wanted - no, needed - him. I needed someone at my back, supporting me. While I had Rumple, there was just something different about a father protecting his daughter.

  “I want to tell you things,” he said. Each word was tight, as though it struggled to release itself from the grasp his mouth had on each one. “I want to. I just…” He clenched his teeth and looked away.

  “Are you bound by magic?” Rumple asked, tilting his head to the side. There was nothing in his tone that would suggest he was thinking of something or criticizing him. If anything, he seemed genuinely intrigued by the prospect that my father was intrinsically tied to a magical promise he could not break.

  “No,” he said. “Nothing like that.”

  I looked at Rumple, curious to know if he believed my father. It was hard to make out the look on his face because of the darkness, the shadows, but from what I could see, he seemed impassive.

  “You’re not,” Rumple said slowly, “but she is.” He cocked his head in my direction.

  My father said nothing. Rumple began to curse under his breath. He ripped his hand away from my own and began to pace. Even in his hurried state, he barely made any sounds at all. He strode the length of about half a football field before spinning around on the balls of his expensive loafers before striding in the opposite direction. I had never seen him so disgruntled
before.

  Except, it was more than that.

  It was anger.

  Rumple was angry.

  It was odd, watching him. Everything he wore tonight was black, which helped him blend into the night. It was almost like watching a phantom moving back and forth, locked in place, only able to move up and down, like Sisyphus and the boulder.

  “What’s going on?” I asked, turning my attention to my father. I wasn’t sure Rumple was in any place to tell me himself.

  “I...I have kept a lot of secrets from you, Alice,” he said. Everything about him was tense, and guilt swam through his eyes, even in the inky-black night. “But one I’m ashamed of even now is lying to you. But I did it to protect you. Not from the truth, though a selfish part of me is glad you didn’t know certain things because I did think you didn’t need to know certain things, but from magic. Powerful magic that could do much worse to you than kill you.”

  I thought of my rape, the rape I didn’t remember. Thought of the violation I could never report because I didn’t know what happened, didn’t even know who would do such a thing. There were worse things than murder, I had to agree.

  “What does it mean, that I’m bound to magic?” I wasn’t even sure I was phrasing the question the way it should be.

  “It means,” Rumple said, stopping his pacing so he could speak. Despite his jerky movements, he didn’t seem out of breath. “If your father told you anything, you would be bound to the curse placed on you. For instance, if he told you who truly killed Mary Stone, someone might come and kill you, to inflict pain on you and then remove you from existence completely, the way they would if I were to say anything. And there would be nothing I could do to stop it.”

  “What are you talking about?” my father demanded to know.

  “I, too, have bound Alice to magic,” Rumple said, “though, in my defense, I didn’t expect such a thing to happen years ago. I bargained with the wrong person, who insisted I use my weakness as payment to keep a secret.”

  “Your weakness?” My father glanced at me before looking back to Rumple. “What are you saying.”

  “Your daughter is my weakness,” Rumple answered, his gaze never wavering, his voice steady and true. “Your daughter is bound to me, but not through magic. Because I am in love with her. And I will do everything in my power to protect her.”

  3

  In the end, I supposed I was lucky. My father was willing to at least try and settle the idea that Rumple and I were involved romantically. He needed time, which I understood. And the fact that he had helped me with the interview...Maybe that meant we could finally talk about everything. Maybe all of this bad blood between us could finally be finished and I could go back to him. Maybe we could be a family again.

  When we walked through the door of Peter’s small home, I wasn’t surprised to find my best friend tucked away in the kitchen, making tea. The dwarf glanced over at us as I locked the door. His pale green eyes lingered on Rumple as though he didn’t trust him. And I understood why. Peter thought Rumple killed his mother after a deal between them had gone awry. It was one of the things Peter and I had fought about while I was helping Rory Rose figure out who her parents were. I still didn’t know who actually killed Peter’s mother, but Rumple insisted it wasn’t him. Something about how he only handled material magic rather than creation and destruction.

  Which meant it was someone else.

  We just didn’t know who - yet.

  “I heard you had quite the adventure tonight,” he said. “Last night?” He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to his tea. “Would you like some lavender tea? It’ll help settle the nerves, help you sleep.”

  Sleep sounded wonderful. I still wasn’t a fan of tea but I nodded, practically collapsing on the couch in the living room. Rumple slid down next to me, as graceful as ever. My head immediately went to his shoulder while his hand took mine and threaded his fingers with my own. He brushed the back of my fingers with his thumb the same way he did at the station. I didn’t know how, but it soothed me more than I realized, and I felt my eyes droop.

  Finally, finally, I could relax.

  “Don’t go falling asleep on me just yet, darling,” Rumple whispered in my ear. “I’m not done with you.”

  Before I could say anything, Peter walked through with two cups of steaming tea. He handed them to both of us. I was surprised he brought Rumple one. I thought for sure he would ignore Rumple completely. But apparently Peter’s good manners could override his grumpiness every once in a while. He disappeared in the kitchen to bring out his own cup of tea, along with the sugar and the cream.

  Once Peter sat down across from us, Rumple magicked a vile of honey and poured it in his tea.

  “What are you doing?” Peter asked, eyes wide.

  I glanced over at Rumple as I grabbed a spoonful of sugar. I wasn’t quite sure what the problem was. All Rumple was doing was adding something to his tea.

  “Adding honey to bring out the flavor,” Rumple said. “Would you like to try some?”

  “There is no way in all of Hell I would ever put that in lavender tea,” Peter said, each word curt and critical.

  I shot him a look. Was there really a need for him to sound so judgmental? The fact that he even liked tea in the first place was enough for me to think he was odd but I wasn’t going to say harsh things to his face.

  “You killed my mother,” Peter said. Though he had added things to his tea and mixed them in the liquid, he had yet to bring the cup to his lips. I, on the other hand, was in the middle of taking a long gulp, and nearly choked.

  Rumple’s head snapped in my direction as I coughed and choked. This was not the place nor the time to bring this up. I wasn’t sure if Peter suddenly felt confident because Rumple was with me romantically and he figured Rumple wouldn’t do anything to him with me present. And maybe that was actually smart because I knew I wouldn’t be happy if Rumple tried anything with my friend, even if my friend was being a pain in the ass.

  “No,” Rumple said.

  “She engaged you in a deal to have children,” he continued. He wasn’t going to let Rumple deny his truth, even if his truth was a lie. “And you gave them to her. All dwarves. Until she did something that went against your deal and she died in childbirth.”

  “No,” Rumple said again. “I do not deal in creation magic.”

  Peter blinked. “What?” His voice was flat, as though this had never occurred to him before.

  “He doesn’t deal in creation magic,” I repeated, narrowing my eyes. “Or destruction magic, for that matter. Which means he never would have entered into a deal with your mom just because she wanted children and was willing to make a deal.”

  Peter still didn’t look at me. His gaze was on Rumple and Rumple alone. I would have been offended but I was too frustrated with my friend to care. After the night Rumple and I had had, for Peter to make this moment about him showed me just how selfish he could be. Part of me hated him for it, and my magic flared inside of me, scraping to get out, to take care of the perceived threat.

  Rumple must have felt it inside of me because he reached out and placed his hand on my thigh, giving me a little squeeze. To anyone else, it might have been something intimate shared between two lovers. But I knew what it really was - Rumple was trying to calm me down before I did anything I might later regret.

  “There are deals you reject, Imp?” Peter asked. He had no idea what was going on inside of me, and for that, I was grateful.

  “Do you really think I’m that desperate for deals and bargains that I would take anything that was offered to me, Dwarf?” he returned, fingering the handle of the teacup. “Surely you can comprehend how that wouldn’t be in my best interest. I don’t go out of my way to ruin someone’s life. I can smell out those who can’t pay me back, and while it’s not my job to save them from themselves, I certainly have no intention of going into a deal that won’t get me what I want.”

  “And what do you want?”
Peter asked, narrowing his gaze. He set his cup carefully on its saucer before leaning back in the chair and practically glaring at Rumple. I had no idea where this sort of confidence was coming from, but it astounded me that Peter, of all people, possessed it. Not to say that he was a coward by any means, but he certainly wasn’t the type to poke a bear, no matter how grumpy he was in the moment. “What does the great Rumple -” He cut himself off. “The great Imp want?”

  “Just because you are Alice’s friend does not mean you are entitled to do whatever you want and say things you have no right to say,” Rumple said slowly, leaning forward. He reminded me of a predator, about to trap his prey.

  “Are you...are you threatening me in my own home?” he asked before swiveling his gaze to me.

  I didn’t know what he expected. I wasn’t going to defend him to Rumple. Peter wasn’t treating Rumple with respect. Not that Rumple automatically deserved it, but at the same time, Rumple and I had had a long night and we both just wanted to go to bed. Peter accusing Rumple of killing his mother without proper evidence wasn’t exactly helping his case.

  “I already told you,” I finally said. “He didn’t kill your mother.”

  “If that’s the case, who did?” Peter leaned back against the couch, spreading his arms. Now, he looked between the two of us, expecting an answer. “Who else has the power to make deals the way you do? Who would want to-to…?” He couldn’t finish the question, but I knew how it was going to end.

  Suddenly, my heart broke for him. Even though I didn’t agree with how he was handling everything, I could sympathize with him. All he wanted was the truth about his mother. I got that.

  “Would you like me to find out for you?” Rumple asked.

  There was a moment of silence. Hope filled Peter’s eyes as he stared at Rumple, and I could tell he was seriously contemplating it. However, that hope was squashed a second later.