And then, with a wink, he’s gone.
I sigh and recall what Savadeva said to me through Valiente about what I am.
He is aware that you think you know the answer to that question, but you do not.
Seems Prince Eirian also knows something Collin and I don’t. Something about what makes me such a special snowflake. And if I want to find out, I’ll need to get even more tangled up with him.
It’s not like I don’t have plenty of tangles already. Lastnight Mom let me know she’s back in town and apparently she’s been busy. Her text said:
BTW, I had a serious talk with your Aunt Tara about the way she treated you. She was quite emotional by the end. Very tearful. Very apologetic. I left confident that she will never make you—or anyone else—feel uncomfortable like that *ever* again. :)
Reading those words sent a chill down my spine—I have the impression no one is going to be hearing from “Aunt Tara” anytime soon—but I should find out what happened. Mom also offered to cook me brunch, and if she’s making this kind of an effort, I ought to at least try too, right? I still haven’t gotten back to her…
Without really noticing, I’ve started walking again toward the office, churning these things over. I’m absently rubbing my thumb and index finger together, when Collin breaks my reverie. “So… the Winter Queen. You’re definitely moving up in the world, Alvin.”
I suck in a breath. Right. Potential tangle number three!
“You think I should go?”
“I’m not sure you’ll have a choice. You pushed back against a god, and that’s naturally going to bring you to the attention of some proper heavyweights.” Collin rubs his chin, now also mulling. “The main thing is for you to keep as much control of these interactions as you can. Ms. Stryker should be able to help you sort that out, at least in this case.”
He has a point. I’m not on my own here. Not anymore. I’ve got Collin. And Ms. Stryker deals with the fae all the time. She’ll know how I should respond.
When I get to the office with the coffees, though, I find the small reception area relatively packed. Ms. Stryker is leaning against my desk in her daylight-appropriate only-mostly-badass gear: sturdy blue duck-cloth shirt, high-waisted utility pants with a bunch of pockets, and steel-toed boots. Sitting on the couch are Nicole and Emma, who look up the moment I arrive.
It’s been a little over a week since I fought Valiente and Savadeva at the Benevolent Society. That night I told my boss exactly what I am, along with everything that happened. She reacted with a frown, but when the Feds eventually showed up, she kept me completely off their radar and away from anyone who could ask any questions. And the next day, she treated me like she always did—grouchy and impatient, while still expecting me to get her coffee and type up her voicemails. After months of freaking out about her potentially finding out that I’m an incubus, on some level, this was a relief. But she hasn’t brought it up since, so I still don’t know for sure what she thinks about me.
And I never got a chance to say anything to the kids before I had to race back here, and I haven’t seen mother or daughter since. None of the teens, actually. That didn’t feel great, and all Stryker told me was that “they seem to be doing about as well as you’d expect.”
Both Nicole and Emma rise from the couch. Ms. Stryker stays where she is, unreadable. She doesn’t like emotional scenes, so chances are they’ve all just been sitting around in awkward silence.
“Hi,” I say, holding the tray of hot beverages in front of my tummy and feeling a bit awkward myself.
“Ms. Bruno’s daughter would like to say something to you.” Ms. Stryker’s tone makes it clear she wants this interaction done as quickly as possible—but she is smiling with her eyes.
Last time I saw Emma, she was bruised, filthy, covered in scrapes, and in torn clothing. Now she’s in a well-fitting cranberry button-up with the sleeves rolled to her elbows, dark jeans with a leather belt, and black Oxfords. Her pink-frosted hair is nicely styled with a scoop up over her forehead. Her face seems fuller and her compact body more solid.
She stands in front of me, chewing her lower lip, frowning fiercely. For a moment, I’m afraid she’s going to yell at me. After all, these kids went through hell—I’m one of the few people who could understand what they went through, and I haven’t checked in with them at all. Turns out, though, I’m not the only one who feels bad about not being in touch.
“Mr. Alonso… I’m sorry I couldn’t come before…” She glances over her shoulder at Ms. Stryker. “We were all told you were supposed to be some kind of secret.” Her gaze falls to her shoes. “But what you did… It was huge. The others who were there, we all think so. So I wanted to say thank you. I never thought I’d make it out, and you literally saved my life. And I was wondering—” She meets my eyes, and the vulnerability I saw from the photo before has returned. “I was wondering if it’d be okay—if I gave you a hug?”
My eyes widen before I quickly pull myself together. “Uh… sure! Of course it is!”
I shuffle the cardboard tray in my hands, uncertainwhere to put it. Ms. Stryker doesn’t seem inclined to move, so it’s Nicole who winds up taking it from me, her eyes soft with gratitude. She looks like she might cry.
Emma is almost perfectly my height, and she’s a really good hugger. She pulls me in and squeezes me tight against her sturdy frame. It lasts a bunch of seconds, like she doesn’t want to let me go. I’ll admit, it’s hard not to get a little teary myself.
But when Emma steps back her eyes are dry—and happy.
“So, are you okay? How are you doing?” I ask. She looks fine, but what she’s been through has to have affected her deeply.
She takes another half-step back and scowls down at her hands, making fists. “I’m still taking time from school. I have nightmares. Like I’m stuck back there. Panic attacks. But I’m getting some help with that.” She glances at her mom, who nods. “Also… when I get anxious… things sometimes blow around the room…”
“AndI’llbe helping with that,” Ms. Stryker chimes in, crisply.
“You will?” I’m honestly surprised.
My boss’s smile is more of a wince. “I’m offering lessons in magic to all the children. At least until I’m confident they are in control of their powers. You’ll be joining them.”
