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“And if he crosses the line further? If he endangers the family…Wyatt?” he asked sternly, breathing through his nose.
“Hasn’t he already been doing that?” We understood Boston, but what else had Ethan done? We weren’t sure.
“We’ve spent so much time and effort trying to protect them from the monsters outside we ignored the one that grew up behind us,” he mused. “How do we fight this battle?”
“We don’t,” I whispered, taking off my top as I headed to the master bedroom.
“We don’t fight?”
“We trust our son and see what happens.”
“In other words, the hunters have become the prey, and must avoid being captured?”
“Exactly—”
“That I can’t do.” I stopped and turned to face him as he stood in the middle of the living room. His jaw was hard as he stared into my eyes. “Live in hiding with you, I can do. I have been doing so. I do so because I love you and I thought wherever you go, I go too.”
“You thought?”
“I also now realize I joined you in hiding because I love my children and my family. I will always fight to protect them.”
“When did our son stop being your family?” I tried to keep my voice calm and cool.
“Never. He will be always be my son and family. If you ask me to sit quietly and do nothing as he jeopardizes everything we built, what my father died for, what my mother has suffered for, simply to tell us we were bad parents, you’re mistaken, love. If he lays a hand on anyone else in the family again, my mother, Wyatt, my grandchild, my brother, Declan….”
“You’ll what?” I snapped. “Touch Ethan, and I swear to God, Liam, you will suffer.”
“Whether you make me suffer or not, I will suffer anyway. You aren’t the only one who loves him. But he doesn’t rank higher than everyone else combined.” He took his jacket and walked towards the door.
“Where are you going?”
“To pray that we are wrong, and we are giving him too much damn credit.” He slammed the door behind him.
This was the danger of abdicating the throne. Once a king always a king; once the Ceann Na Conairte always the Ceann Na Conairte, whether the crown was on his head or not.
This was going to be complicated.
I glanced back at the image of this Calliope on the screen. She was laughing and smiling, She looked innocent…too fucking innocent. But I knew without a doubt she was anything but. Women like her…women like us…knew how to play the people around us a little too well.
Chapter 22
“Knowing your own darkness
is the best method for dealing with the darknesses
of other people.”
* * *
~Carl Gustav Jung
CALLIOPE - AGE 13
“Are you tired?” he asked as me as I tried to climb out of the hole. Every time I clung to the rope and pulled my body up, my legs…I think they were broken. I think they broke when I was thrown down here.
“I can’t hear you, Calliope.” At the sound of that voice I shivered and held on tighter, much tighter, pulling myself up more. I could see the circle of light above me where the sky was, where my freedom was. I was almost there, and then I could sleep.
“Ahh—” I screamed as this time ice water, not the scalding water they poured earlier, rained down on me and at the shock of it I let go. I fell back down on the dirt and the rats scattered as my body landed with thud.
