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I’m eager to get over to Finn’s and check on my dad, so I throw together some French toast and coffee. Edwards arrives down just as I’m setting it on the table, and we eat quickly. I think Edwards is just as eager to see how my dad’s doing as I am. Whenever he talks of him he refers to him so fondly. I guess the two of them must have made quite the bond during their ordeal in hell.
Edwards tells me that my dad was conscious throughout most of their journey home, but that he was far from being in his right mind. It was the transition through the dimensional door that took the strength out of him. I put our few dirty dishes in the sink, and sucking in a breath for courage, I lead him over to Finn’s.
Finn is making his way down the stairs just as we’re going in the front door. When he sees me his face momentarily shows some kind of conflict, but it quickly vanishes and he plasters on a smile.
“I just checked on Martin. He’s still sleeping,” he tells us, before pulling something out of his back pocket.
Edwards begins making his way up to my dad as Finn hands me whatever it was he took out. I glance down to see it’s a passport.
“For your old man, as promised,” he says and then moves to go by me.
“Thank you,” I whisper, opening it up to see a picture of my dad inside. “How did you get the photo?” I ask.
He makes a typing gesture with his hands. “My mad computer skills, remember? I got that from the database of the school he used to work at.”
Instinctively I move forward and grab him, giving him a small hug. “You’re such a good person, Finn. I really don’t deserve you as a friend.”
He pats me on the back, his smile faltering a bit. “Yeah well, not many people do.”
The fact that he can still be sarcastic with me gives me hope.
I nod and turn to follow Edwards upstairs. Before I make it to the first step, I feel Finn grip my hand. “Yeah?” I say, looking back at him.
He swallows. “I just wanted to tell you to be safe. The decisions you make are your own. I can’t tell you what to do, but please don’t do anything stupid for that vampire. He has some kind of a hold on you and it worries me. I’m not going to make a fool of myself and beg you to stay away from him, because that’s not my thing. All I can do is say that you’ll always have a friend in me and I’ll be there if you need me.”
Oh God, now he’s going to go and make me cry. This man is the salt of the earth. Sometimes I wish Ethan didn’t exist, because Finn’s right, he does have a hold on me and it cancels out all of my rational thought. Ethan invites me into the fire, and not only do I know it’s going to be dangerous, but I relish the danger. There’s something screwed up in my head.
“I’m sorry I’m not a better person,” I choke out.
“Quit that self-pity, Petal,” he says, friendly but dismissive. “Now go on up and see to your father.”
He lets go of my hand and I continue on up to my room, too many feelings bubbling up in me. Inside Edwards is peeling off the lotions he put on my dad yesterday. They’ve all formed into a solid skin, and when he peels it back I see that the blisters have disappeared and new, pink skin is in their place.
“That’s amazing,” I say in awe, sitting down on the edge of the bed. The problem is that when I do my dad’s face whips to me. His eyes are open and they aren’t their usual colour; they’re all murky, like a swamp. I jump up, staring at him in fright. One side of his jaw is tilted up and he’s wearing an unsettling expression that I’ve never seen on his face before.
“Dad,” I whisper. “It’s me, it’s Tegan.”
Edwards places a hand on my elbow. “There’s no point, dear. He can’t recognise you right now. His true mind is somewhere else.”
My dad is still staring at me, almost like he’s sneering. For the second time already this morning I feel like crying. First Finn’s words of kindness that I don’t deserve, and now my dad looking at me with eyes that aren’t his own.
Edwards places several bottles containing dark liquids by the night-stand. My dad’s face turns to watch him, and he seems calmed by the half demon’s presence. Edwards perches himself by the bed and begins giving my dad spoonfuls of liquid from the different bottles. He seems relatively passive at first, but before he swallows down the third spoonful his expression contorts and he spits it out onto the bed. I go get some paper towels to dab up the spillage and Edwards tries again with the same liquid. A second time my dad spits it out, now more aggressively than before. His body starts to convulse and he lets out a wail of pain.
“What’s wrong with him?” I ask in panic, my voice catching with tears.
Edwards looks at me gravely. “He’s not accepting the medicine. This one is particularly important in restoring his mind, but it’s just not taking. When he spits it out it’s not so much his action as the action of the evil that’s infesting him.”
“The infestation wouldn’t let him take the medicine?”
“Correct.”
“Is there any alternative?”
“There is. There are other medicines, more powerful ones, but I don’t have any of them here.”
Running my hands through my hair, I say, “Let me guess, you only have them at home in England.”
“Correct again,” answers Edwards.
