“You too, Tucker.” The men shook hands. Greyson knew her father’s lawyer?
That was surely who this man was, because he turned to Diane next and gave her a peck on the cheek. Come to think of it, hadn’t she glimpsed him at her father’s funeral too? The profile looked vaguely familiar.
“Okay then.” Tucker clasped his hands together. “Shall we get started? I’ve set up the conference room.”
Megan and Greyson hung back for a moment while the others trooped past. “You know him?” she whispered.
“He’s Caedes Fuiltean. The blood demons.”
“But—”
“No, no. I don’t think he was involved with anything last night. Tucker’s a good guy; we worked together on a project a few years ago. He’s a friend.”
“He’s a friend” meant just that; Greyson never called anyone his friend unless they’d proved themselves in some way. She relaxed a little.
“My father has a demon lawyer? I mean, obviously he was involved with them, but his lawyer too?”
He nodded. “Part of the exchange for the favors your father did for Orion? This isn’t Tucker’s office either, or I’d have known.”
“So why do this here?”
“Maybe he just needed a bigger space. Maybe he always handles non-Meegra clients outside his own office. A lot of us do that.”
“You?”
“I never had a regular practice. I only handled Meegra legal business.”
She wanted to ask more about it, but they were late. Everyone else was already seated; a few people leaned against the walls, but two empty chairs beckoned.
As did Tucker. “Greyson, Dr. Chase. Please, sit down.”
Christians entering an arena full of lions couldn’t have been more exposed than Megan felt as they threaded their way past everyone to sit.
“Okay. Let’s get started.” Tucker sat at the head of the table and picked up a sheaf of papers. “It’s not a very complex will, but David did request a reading, so…”
Megan’s mind wandered as Tucker read the necessary jargon at the beginning in his slow, calm voice. A few times Greyson tipped his head, as if considering something, but she thought whispering while the will was being read would be akin to giggling at the funeral—which she’d already done—so she didn’t ask about it. They’d discuss it later.
“…with the exception of one tenth interest, which will be given to my daughter Megan Alison Chase. Also bequeathed to Megan Alison Chase is one third interest, my entire holdings, in the lot at 1477 Pike Street, currently occupied by the Trubank Mental Health Center, which is now closed, and all documents pertaining thereto, which are currently housed in the front bedroom at number twelve Hampton Road.”
Tucker glanced up, inspecting the stir this bit of news had created. Gasps and murmurs broke out around the room.
“That can’t be right,” Diane snapped, all decorum apparently forgotten in her fury. “Check that again.”
“I wrote this myself, five weeks ago,” Tucker replied. “It’s all in order.”
Her mother continued to argue, with Dave joining in, but Megan barely heard them over the roaring in her ears, the pounding of her heart. Why would he do that? Wasn’t it bad enough not to love her, did he have to actively hate her?
He’d left her the land on which the mental hospital sat. The mental hospital where she’d been a patient for nearly six months, sixteen years ago.
Chapter 16
I don’t want it,” she said, but no one seemed to hear her over the argument. She tried again, louder. “I don’t—”
“Meg. Shush.”
“I don’t want it,” she whispered furiously. “I don’t want any of it.”
“You don’t know that.” Greyson leaned closer, but didn’t look at her, watching the reddening faces of her mother and brother instead.
“I think I do.”
“No. You don’t. Not until you know why, and what he gave Maldon in exchange for everything he got.”
It made sense, just like most of his suggestions, which was probably why it pissed her off so much. She pulled her hand from his and folded her arms across her chest.
“They’ll contest the will,” he went on, as if she hadn’t just distanced herself from both him and the conversation. “And when they do, you can make a decision and I’ll handle the legal stuff. But for now don’t make any comments on the record.”
“There’s no record. This is a will reading, not a trial.”
“You think that viper and her spawn won’t remember everything you say and try to introduce it?”
“That’s assuming I change my mind and fight them. I won’t.”
“You might.”
“You! What did you do to him?”
Megan looked up. Diane stood at the end of the table, her red-rimmed eyes blazing. “As if being a disgrace to our family wasn’t enough, you—what did you do? Blackmail him? Drug him? We always knew something was wrong with you, always thought—”
“Mrs. Chase!” Tucker’s voice cut through the diatribe, hoarse with shock. “Please, sit down! There’s no need for—”
“Don’t you tell me what there’s a need for! That little witch—”
“Mom, Mom.” Dave stood up and tried to grasp his mother’s arm. “Calm down. We can do this later. We can fight this. Right, Tucker? We can fight this?”
“You can contest the will, yes.” Tucker glanced at Megan and Greyson. “But we’ll discuss that another time. Please, Mrs. Chase, take your seat.”
Megan’s mother looked around, seeming to recall for the first time where she was and how many people were watching. Their gazes flipped from her to Megan and back again, as if they expected a slapfight to break out any second.
Diane subsided, then wiped at her eyes with a black-bordered handkerchief. The move, Megan knew, was a calculated one, to remind the rest of the room of her bereavement and bring home the stress she, the loyal wife, was under.
Almost without realizing it, Megan lowered her shields a tad and reached out. She’d probably never see this woman again after today, at least she hoped she wouldn’t. Weren’t there things she deserved to know, things she was curious about?
There she was as a child, a pretty little blond girl in a pink dress. Megan remembered that dress. She’d hated it, with its itchy lace trim…
“Mommy! Why does Mr. Grubman hate Daddy?”
“Don’t be silly, Megan. Mr. Grubman is our friend.”
“No, he’s not. He thinks Daddy’s an idiot and he wants to see you without your pants on.”
The slap had been so sharp and unexpected Megan’s eyes teared up just seeing it all these years later, but all her mother had felt was rage. Rage and a queasy kind of fear.
More images, more memories. Megan at six predicting her grandmother’s death. Grandma…she’d liked Grandma, and Grandma had liked her. Funny, Megan didn’t realize until now that Grandma had had her abilities too, not as strong as Megan’s but there nonetheless. She’d died when Megan was still too young to understand, or to realize what she could do was unusual.
Megan at twelve, wearing the baggy gray sweater she’d thought hid her embarrassing lack of development, while her mother tsked and pulled at it and finally gave up, upset Megan couldn’t even achieve puberty properly. Megan at fourteen, and Orion Maldon coming to their house to talk to David about something…
Oh my God.
She stood up, so fast she almost toppled forward over the table, interrupting again poor friendly Tucker’s attempt to finish the reading. “I need to leave.”
She didn’t care that they were all staring at her. She didn’t care what they thought. She knew it now, knew what she’d failed to ask Maldon, knew why all of this had happened to her, and she had to get out of that room before she did something she would really regret. The second heart in her chest pounded, furious, sending heat rushing through her body.