Page 52 of Old Secrets

“Do you want revenge or justice?” my mother inquired.

“I’d accept either.” In Bryce’s tone, I heard stone and ice—and a willingness to kill.

“We can secure justice, but it would come at the price of vengeance,” she warned.

“Justice will have to be enough.”

My father grunted and regarded my mother through narrowed eyes.

“We will need some time and supplies, but we can begin with these two spirits. And if they were associated with Greenwich, we will learn the truth of that, too.”

“What do you need?” Eric asked, and he pulled out a pad of paper and a pen.

Aiko did the same, and the coldness of her expression promised the woman would play her part in retribution somehow.

I would need to ask Charles Desmond some questions about his son-in-law and those who knew him.

After a few moments, my father said, “I am going to need as many photographs of these people, living or dead, as possible—and if we can acquire their most prized possession, that would help, too.”

“That would be Richard Murphy,” Mellisa stated, her tone as frigid as Aiko’s expression.

My mother shook her head. “No. I will not have that poor child hurt any more by these monsters. Photographs will have to do. I will not have us bring even more harm to him. He has been hurt enough. We will make do with photographs alone if needed—and the fury only the loving can possess.”

FOURTEEN

“I owe you a debt.”

The meeting adjourned, giving us five hours to ourselves in our swanky hotel room to do with as we pleased. Someone had brought food up for us before we arrived. I’d grabbed enough to satisfy my stomach before Jake fell on the rest like some starved beast. To my amusement, within twenty minutes, he passed out in bed, giving me a chance to appease my curiosity.

I called Charles Desmond.

“What’s wrong?” the man asked, his voice burdened with lost sleep.

“I’m sorry for waking you, Mr. Desmond, but I had some questions about Richard.”

“About Richard?” The enforcer grunted, murmured an apology to his mate, and a few moments later, he asked, “What’s going on?”

“We found my biological parents. The Inquisition had photographs of Richard’s parents after their deaths to compare to how my parents might kill versus how a Fenerec does, I think.”

“Ah. Yes. We took pictures of the scene. There wasn’t much else we could do with the bodies in that condition. That must have come as a shock to you.”

“Not really. I’m just as lethal.” Bit by bit, I came to terms with the lives I’d ended on my quest for vengeance. “My parents are going to do something we might regret.”

“What’s going on?”

“I believe they’re going to weaponize the spirits of Richard’s parents against Greenwich. My parents are furious about what they saw in the pictures—that goes beyond just the photos. They saw the souls, I think.”

“Seers happen. We have a few in the Inquisition, although few see things so clearly. All right. Nothing more than what those assholes deserve. I do appreciate the warning. Weaponize those bastards against Greenwich all you want. If your parents can toss in some torture while they’re at it, it would not be unjustified.”

I marveled at how many people could love one man so much. “All right. I just wanted to warn you. I’ve learned to not doubt when my parents say they will do something.”

“Do you like your parents?”

“I do. But they have had so much tragedy in their lives. Greenwich murdered my brothers and sisters.”

“The rumor of litters is true, then?”

“It is.”