Another pause, and Rans said, “Fine.” Then he hung up.
I watched as he scrubbed a hand down his face. “He’ll consider the options, and maybe try to talk to some people,” he said, and I once again got that feeling of being managed.
“Great,” I said flatly.
“I’ll call a couple of other people I know,” he said, his reply equally toneless. “Why don’t you eat something and go get some rest. It’s been... a day. I’ll let you know if anything comes up. Otherwise, we can take a fresh look at things in the morning.”
“Yeah, okay.” I looked around the kitchen, my eyes falling on a fruit bowl. I grabbed a banana and an apple. “I guess I’m pretty tired after, well, everything.”
It was hard, but I turned and walked out of the kitchen without a backward glance, returning to the room where I’d spent the previous night curled in Rans’ arms. After a moment’s thought, I gathered my things and moved them to another bedroom. It looked more lived-in, and I guessed it was Tom and Glynda’s. Which... yes, was kind of a creepy thing for me to do. But I knew if Rans came in later and lay down next to me in bed, my determination not to get closer to him would crumple like a wet dishrag.
Moving to a different room was a pretty clear hands-off message, and one I was reasonably confident Mr. Middle Ages Chivalry would respect. I plonked my stuff down on the dresser and flopped onto the edge of the bed, eating my apple and banana. Then I lay back on the bed, still dressed, and thought things over.
Though it was early in the evening, I dozed a bit as the events of the day caught up with me. When I woke, it was fully dark outside, but I could hear the sounds of Rans moving around in the kitchen, along with the low murmur of his voice. He obviously hadn’t been lying about talking to other people, which I appreciated.
It was still obvious that working out a diplomatic solution was a long shot, though. What was I going to do if no one could help? Leaving Dad in Fae hands for weeks while people who didn’t really give a shit about him talked and debated endlessly was not an option. Hell, I’d already dicked around for days while who-knew-what was happening to him.
I felt a little sick at the thought of the hours I’d spent having sex with Rans... training with Rans... sleeping curled in Rans’ arms. All of this, while my father was a prisoner.
At least, you hope he’s a prisoner, said my unhelpful internal voice.
I shoved my doubts into the dark place reserved for things I didn’t want to examine too closely. The point was, the Fae could be doing anything to Darryl Bright right now, and I was lying here on a comfortable bed in a safe house, napping after my pleasant shower.
What the hell kind of daughter was I? It was one thing to be unable to act yet. It was totally another to spend time relaxing and having a good time while my father was in the hands of my enemies.
In the morning, I resolved, I would take action with or without Rans and his diplomatic solution. The point that everyone seemed to be forgetting—myself included—was that I was basically fucked no matter what happened. The Fae wanted me gone. The demons probably wished I didn’t exist in the first place, since my existence put the treaty at risk. I could count the number of humans who would be upset by my disappearance on one hand.
The only person who seemed committed to protecting me was a single, slightly unhinged vampire... who also happened to be the person I cared most about protecting. Rans was the most likely person to end up as collateral damage in the Fae’s witch-hunt against me, and he was one of the two people in my life right now who I would die to protect.
The realization struck me in the chest like a blow.
And yet, the more I rolled it around in my mind, the more true it felt. I would die to protect my father because he was my family, and because I hadn’t been in a position to protect my mother in her time of need. But I would die to protect Rans because it seemed increasingly likely that I wasn’t going to survive being hunted by the Fae, and saving the man who had tried to save me would give my death some kind of meaning.
I’d been moments from being whisked away by Caspian at the bus station in St. Louis. Alma’s knife blade had missed slamming through my eye and into my brain by mere inches, and the Fae hadn’t even known I was in Chicago at the time. My life hung by the barest of threads these days.
Much of my life had been spent as a victim, and a fairly pathetic one at that. I’d been a victim of the gunman who’d taken my mother’s life when I was six. A victim of my father’s emotional distance and neglect. A victim of my chronic health problems, both physical and mental. Was it such an unreasonable desire to want to make one final, grand gesture before the Fae snuffed out my existence?
If I failed, at least it would be on my terms. And besides, once they had me, why would the Fae need to keep my father anyway? They might make my skin crawl, but it was obvious the Fae were a civilized society in many ways. If they granted last requests, I would make mine my father’s freedom. Or, at the very least, his safety.
And then it
