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But I don’t think I ever will.
5
LILY
I always loved takingnighttime walks in the vast garden that encircles my father’s HQ and my home for the past twelve years or so.
The house itself is a sprawling, 19thcentury monstrosity, with buttresses on the roof and ornate stonework on all the corners and windows. The inside is even worse, with all the marble and polished wood and sparkling chandeliers everywhere.
On the reservation, I lived in a run down, two bedroom trailer and slept on a lumpy mattress that was at least fifty years old. We didn’t have running water, and sometimes the electricity went out too. This looked like a castle from some story book when I first saw it, and until I did, I didn’t even believe places like this existed. But I did know that I sure as hell never wanted to be cooped up in one of them. I belong on the prairie, the vast empty land I’m a part of.
But I always loved the garden though. It’s so full of life, so full of everything that is wholesome and good about this planet and I could get lost in it for hours. Nothing ever followed me in there. No care and no worry. And eventually I grew to like the house as well. Because I found a family inside its walls. But the family I left behind on the reservation has never stopped calling me back.
Sanctuary used to be a convalescent home for the rich back in the day before the last owner turned it into a HQ for Devil’s Nightmare MC. But that was well before my time. Or even my father’s.
The fresh, ancient scent of moist, resting earth, wild growing trees and bushes follows me as I make my way up the long gravel path to the house. The garden is calling me. And I could very well find that nook under a tall redwood tree, where I’d sometimes lay, sleeping on soft, fragrant needles on hot summer nights. One with the earth. That’s my birthright.
But I have other things I must do tonight. And they can’t wait.
I also can’t let myself think too hard about the Eagle’s kiss. If I do, I’ll be lost. I loved it too much. But it’s too late.
The huge, heavy double doors that lead into the house are closed, but they’re never locked and as I push them open, I hear voices coming from the spacious dining room just to the left of the door. Tank and Ice are having a heated discussion in there, and Rook and Scar are there too. None of them notice me slip past the door on my way to my father’s study at the far end of the ground floor.
The lobby is dark and there’s a band of bright light along the bottom of his door, meaning he’s in there. Good. At least one thing is going my way tonight.
I knock hastily but open the door before Cross responds.
“Lily?” he says, looking at me like I’m the last person he expected to see tonight.
He’s sitting in one of two black leather armchairs, a tumbler of whiskey in his hand. The coffee table is covered by papers and photos, several layers deep and the breeze coming in thought the open window stirs it all, making it rustle.
“This won’t take long,” I tell him and shut the door firmly behind me.
I walk over to the bar and pour myself a tumbler of whiskey too, taking a long swig before turning to him. His eyes are as black and as unreadable as ever, but he’s my father and I know what he’s thinking.
“I’m fine,” I tell him and take another sip of the drink. It burns my throat and I have to fight a cough, but it warms me. Steels me. Will help me say what I need to say.
“You know how I’ve been talking about visiting my home?” I ask as I sit down on the armrest of the sofa. The look he gives me suggests I’ve just uttered the understatement of the century. I never used to stop talking about going back to the reservation.
“Well, tonight’s the night. I’m going tonight. So can I take a car. And maybe have some money.”
He looks confused, a feat I think only I can achieve.
“What? We were gonna talk about this,” he says.
“We’re talking now,” I say and finish my drink. “So can I? I mean, I’m going either way.”
He just looks at me for a couple of seconds, his eyes growing sharper and his face more and more unreadable.
“What happened tonight?” he asks. “I heard you got arrested along with your friends.”
Figures he’d know. I told him I don’t want a body guard anymore, but that doesn’t mean he’s stopped keeping tabs on me every second of my life. It’ll be nice to leave that behind too.
“How’d you get out?” The way he says it, makes me sure he already knows. But how could he?
“I just walked out,” I say looking at him as intently as he’s looking at me. If he knows, he’ll call me a liar now. If he doesn’t, he never needs to. He shakes his head in disbelief, but says nothing.
“They might come looking for me tomorrow,” I add. “And I’ll be gone, so you’ll have nothing to worry about.”
