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He took a different route this time, staying away from the intersection that had turned into a four-way stop as he flew toward the district of Oceana.
Loren might’ve asked for space, but she wasn’t getting it today, whether she liked it or not. And even though Erasmus was her father, he was a weird guy, and Darien didn’t want her alone with him, especially not after that failure of a dinner last week. Until that night, Darien had given Erasmus the benefit of the doubt, but his reluctance to answer any of his daughter’s questions had changed how Darien felt about him, and he wasn’t about to risk Loren’s safety by having her go into his townhouse on her own, especially not after someone had broken into it.
He knew he was really telling himself all these things so that he would have an excuse to see her. Maybe that made him a lousy boyfriend, but she was his to protect. And fuck, he would continue to look after her until the day she told him it was no longer what she wanted.
28
The townhouse was a wreck.
Shards of glass from the broken window beside the front door crunched under Loren’s sneakers as she walked up the cement steps. The door had been left ajar, leaving the destruction inside the house visible from where she stood.
Furniture had been overturned, some of it smashed into pieces. Every window in sight was shattered. Curtains had been torn off rods, dishes had been thrown from cupboards, pictures had been ripped off walls, their frames in splinters.
“Dad?” Loren called as she stepped over the threshold, more glass crunching under her feet. The lack of magic spells over the townhouse made her feel weightless; she was so used to entering through doorways that were programmed to keep intruders out that, whenever there weren’t any spells, it felt a little like being naked in public, or like a limb had gone numb from staying in one position for too long.
It was unsettling, and it made her wonder how the intruders had managed to shut off the spells. Hacking spell systems was incredibly difficult, which was why Tanner and the few other people who were as talented as him had such widespread reputations. This had to be the work of a Darkslayer house, or someone equally as powerful.
Erasmus stood in the middle of the living room, surrounded by an ocean of broken furniture and glimmering glass.
Heart in her throat, Loren picked her way down the hall, being careful not to step on anything.
“Dad,” she called again. “What happened here? Are you hurt?”
There was no sign of trauma on his face, thank the Star. But his eyes were empty and unseeing, his skin ghostly pale. He had called her in distress shortly before school was out, and she’d left as soon as she could.
“Dad,” she tried again. She offered him a hand as she drew closer, stepping over a fallen lamp, the shade dented and torn.
He blinked, as if ridding himself of a daze. After a few seconds, he took her outstretched hand into his. His fingers were icy-cold and trembling. “I’m fine, Loren. Luckily, I got here after whoever did this was already gone.”
“Where’s Cyra?”
“She left the city yesterday.” He reached into his shirt pocket and retrieved the folded-up piece of paper. “I found this on the c-counter.”
Loren took the square of paper and unfolded it. She read quickly while Erasmus continued to stare at the wreckage of his home.
Erasmus,
It has been a pleasure helping you find your daughter, but it is time for me to return to my own home. I wish you both all the best, and I sincerely hope she finds it in her heart to forgive you. If you see Loren, please tell her never to let that fire in her soul die out. It will take her big places someday.
Ignite me, Phoenix,
Cyra
“It’s a goodbye letter,” she said. She looked up at Erasmus. “Did she tell you why she was leaving?”
He shook his head. “She was already gone when I w-woke up.”
“Do you think she had anything to do with this?”
Erasmus pursed his lips in thought. “No. She’s been talking about returning home for a while now.”
Loren scanned the letter again. “What does this mean? At the end here?” She was about to show Erasmus when the sound of glass crunching under feet had them both turning toward the doorway.
The sight of Darien walking into the townhouse made Loren’s stomach and heart dip at the same time. Her mouth dried out, and her palms turned sweaty. She wiped her free one on her thigh as he approached. Sabrine or Dallas must have called him; they were the only people she’d told about the break-in.
The Darkslayer hardly spared a glance for the mess spread around him. His intense gaze was pinned on her as he stepped on shattered pictures, glass buckling under his boots, and literally kicked furniture out of his way—not hard, but enough to move it. The look on his face…she couldn’t read it. It was so conflicted and confusing, he almost looked like a total stranger.
Except no stranger could make her heart melt in her chest like this, could make her stomach flutter so chaotically. Her palms tingled with the desire to touch him, and she found her gaze snagging with longing on his inked hands. Those were the hands that held her when she was scared, the hands that took care of her when she was hurt, and she wanted nothing more than to have them on her right this instant and forget about everything that was going on.
