But Mason was already pushing Fletcher ahead of him, while searching out a quiet corner. He resisted the instinct to pick the kid up and make a run for it. His instincts were screaming fire. Keeping his cool was an act of pure will, but the effort was making him sweat into his brand new custom tux.
Another door. Looked okay.
Unlocked. Even better.
Inside was a narrow room loaded with party miscellany. Perfect.
As soon as the door shut, Mason went down on his knees and grabbed his son into a tight hug. The small body went rigid in his arms, but the size, the contours, the density—tough and soft—were all unmistakably Fletcher. Mason’s ear was at his chest. Fletcher’s heartbeat was the sound of peace and rest and hope. But not cooperation. Mason sat back on his heels to beg. He’d rip out his own heart and hand it over, if only to get real answers. “What happened at Webb House?”
Took too long for Fletcher to answer. “Nothing.”
The answer sounded truthful, but Mason didn’t like it. He tried a different tactic. Ask around the issue. Come from a different side. “How did you find out about the Lures?” The first sign of trouble.
“I made it up.”
Lorelei Blake’s death and Fletcher’s text message had not been a coincidence. “We promised we’d never lie to each other.”
“But you left me anyway.”
The first lie, and the root of whatever was bothering him. Mason did not mistake the recrimination in his son’s voice. They were getting somewhere. Yes, he’d sworn that they’d stick together, forever. And then the plague had hit. Mason had thought his son had understood. Fletcher had even said it was okay. Mason was a fool for trusting an eight-year-old’s understanding of adult nightmares.
“And Mr. Webb just traded me to some lady for his business. I’m going to her House tonight.”
“What lady?” Was he talking about Cari?
“Like you care.”
Two weeks had done this. Two fucking weeks. “I do care. I know the lady. Cari Dolan. I’m staying at her House. You’ll be with me.”
“I hate her. I’m going to kill her the first chance I get. She killed my mother.”
“That’s not true! I was there!” Mason took his son by the upper arms and shook. “A fae killed your mom. Cari tried to stop her.”
But Fletcher’s face closed. His mouth pressed tight. He was a small, but impregnable fortress of secrets. Something had been said. Some idea had taken root. His son had come to some awful conclusion and had built a wall between them when Mason wasn’t looking. A sear of frustration ran along Mason’s nerve fibers.
“Goddamn it,” Mason said, standing, but keeping a tight hold on one of Fletcher’s arms. He was never letting go of the kid again. Never. “We are resolving this now.”
“Where are you taking me?” Kid’s voice had turned mean.
“To meet her. To hear what she’s done for us so that we can be together again,” Mason said. Together, like I promised. “Then you tell me again how you want to kill her.”
A bright spark burned in Maeve’s eye, and she turned her countenance toward the Light. Another joined it, and another, until her vision danced with bothersome fireflies. Angels, here to fight the wrong.
But she was far more beautiful than they; she had the illumination of thousands within her. She was a torch, her mind heavy with their understanding.
She wasn’t wrong. She was inevitable.
“And Shadowman, too? He’ll help?” Cari was astonished at Jack Bastian’s news. She’d learned her lines for the big announcement and the conversation had turned to the insane fae queen. Maeve was not Segue’s problem—they didn’t even have wards—but it seemed Adam and his people had agreed to throw down and fight against the fae queen, too. The Order was already actively engaged against her.
Cari put a hand to her chest to quell the rise of feeling, but couldn’t express how deeply moved she was for the support. Any reservations she had about swearing fealty to Brand evaporated.
Bastian put a hand to her arm. “She won’t be the only fae to cross. Darkness is rising. Dolan will have its work cut out for it in the years to come.”
Cari clenched her teeth, steeling herself. Yes, she would do whatever she could. Her House, its long strength, was behind this effort. This was what she’d been born for. Plus, she’d have Mason beside her. It wasn’t such a terrible future.
There was a sharp knock, then the door opened without their having had a chance to answer. A kid was propelled inside—Mason’s eyes!—the father behind him.
Cari’s stomach fell. Fletcher Stray. This was it. And Mason looked angry.
Jack Bastian disengaged and stepped back toward the door. “I’ll let Kaye know you need a few minutes.”
The mind reading thing. Cari now wished for that power herself. Her fantasy about Fletcher liking her was already crumbling. This was not how she’d imagined it going.
The door closed and Mason shoved his son toward her. “Fletcher, this is Cari Dolan. Cari, Fletcher.”
Um . . . ?
Cari attempted to lower herself vertically as much as her dress would allow. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”
But the boy—beautiful kid, really—just looked sullen and angry. He wouldn’t meet her eyes. He had killer lashes though. Was going to break hearts when he grew up, just like his daddy. Fletcher was already breaking hers.
“Apparently Webb told him that he’d traded Fletcher in a business deal,” Mason said.
Cari looked up at Mason. “That’s not how it was.”
“And he thinks you killed Liv.”
Cari opened her mouth to say no, but no sound came out. This was too horrible to contemplate.
“I told him already, but he doesn’t buy it.”
Cari looked Fletcher in the eyes as deep as he’d let her go. “I swear on my House, on my father’s name, on my life . . . I did not kill your mother.”
Fletcher just looked at her, unimpressed, though it was the only time in her life she’d ever made such an oath.
She straightened. “I don’t know what else I can say.”
Mason brought round a chair so that she could sit. “I thought we could explain our plans, let him weigh in. He might hear better after he gets the whole picture.”
Cari settled back as Mason pulled up a chair for himself. She chewed her lip, trying to think where to start, then opted for the beginning to win him over. “The plague killed my father. Burned him up from the inside.” Any sympathy? Nope. Moving on. “And I inherited my House. Dolan House. Have you heard of it?” Adult skepticism on the face of a child. That would be a no, too.
Mason jerked a nod for her to continue. What had happened? But his face was as stony as his son’s.
“The mage Council asked me and your dad to find out who started the plague. And we did.” No congratulations or way-to-go! “And at the same time we were investigating, we . . .” Cari looked up desperately. She didn’t want her explanation to sound like Mason had been having fun while his kid was lonely.
“I got the girl, too,” Mason finished. Blunt. Efficient.
Fletcher slid his gaze over to his dad, then back.
“But I knew that your dad could never be happy without you, so I offered to trade the only valuable thing my House has so that you two could be together again. Your dad was so worried.”
Fletcher’s hard expression didn’t waver.
The issue of the moment. The impending claim. Even now Kaye was waiting for the announcements to begin. And this one was the first. “Fletcher, if it’s okay with you—”
“No,” Mason cut in. “It’s happening whether it’s okay with him or not.”
Cari opened her hands, helpless. She was obviously terrible with kids. She’d cry about it later. “But maybe we should wait. Give him a little time to get to know me.”