I leaned forward. “What about Phaedra and Tom? Their roles would have been obvious, since the Veil was locked.”
“They’ve gone back into hiding, just in case,” Gunnar said. “They’ve worked out a way to communicate with Tadji. Places they can meet, leave messages for each other.”
Not an ideal solution, but it was the best way to keep all of them safe.
“The Commandant wants to try to match security images of the recent wraith attacks against the list of folks suspected of being Sensitives, especially anyone Rutledge might have focused on. I’m going to try to get medical care for anyone who needs it. We don’t know if there’s a treatment for wraiths. But the Commandant has gotten a new appreciation for Sensitives, so we’ve got a better opportunity to look now.” He looked at me. “I’d still recommend you stick with ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ at the moment.”
“I won’t be telling,” I assured him. “What about you?”
He smiled. “I’m back on duty and out of the magic game. My job, as far as I see it, is to keep Containment on the straight and narrow.”
“Says the Commandant?” I asked with a smile.
Gunnar grinned, sat back, crossed his ankles on the table. “Exactly. And that, lady and gentlemen, is a full day’s work.”
• • •
There wasn’t much we could do with that right now. For tonight, at least, the Veil was closed. Tomorrow would bring what it would. We’d talk to the rest of the group, figure out a plan.
But that was for tomorrow. Tonight, I had other plans. So when the door opened and Tadji walked inside, I scooted them all out.
“All right,” I said. “She’s here. Everybody out.”
I’d known she was coming, had already warned them they’d have to give us some space when she arrived. Some time to talk. She’d asked for the meeting, and I was ninety percent sure I knew what was going to happen.
Tadji had been through hell, and she had walls higher than Devil’s Isle. She was going to talk about magic, about how she couldn’t deal with it—or by extension, me.
“Hey, Tadji,” Gunnar said as he and Liam rose from the table. “We’re just leaving. Gonna go home, maybe crack open a beer.”
I loved Gunnar, but he wasn’t an actor. And he didn’t sound even slightly convincing.
“Okay,” Tadji said. “Thanks for the heads-up?”
They walked out, leaving us alone.
“Hey,” I said, standing to give her a hug. “How’s your mom?”
“She’s okay, all things considered.”
“You wanna sit down?”
“Yeah,” she said, and pulled out a chair.
We sat in silence for a moment. I missed the ticking of my cuckoo clock. It would have given me something to focus on.
Might as well cut to the chase, I thought, and make it easier on both of us. “Are you breaking up with me?”
She half laughed, half sobbed, as tears began to flow. “I don’t know. I had this entire speech prepared—you know me and words—about how I need to take a break. About how I don’t know if I can do this. If I can live with all this magic.”
I nodded, made myself stay quiet, let her get it out.
She wiped away tears. “Growing up was hard, Claire. Being surrounded by the magic, the expectations. It was too hard, and it took so long for me to get away from it. I hoped New Orleans had gotten free of it. But it’s not. Is still here, and it’s messy.” She looked up at me. “It suffocates me.”
Wasn’t it strange that I’d had exactly the opposite experience? A father who’d had magic but had hidden it from me.
“They’ve gone back into hiding, just in case,” Gunnar said. “They’ve worked out a way to communicate with Tadji. Places they can meet, leave messages for each other.”
Not an ideal solution, but it was the best way to keep all of them safe.
“The Commandant wants to try to match security images of the recent wraith attacks against the list of folks suspected of being Sensitives, especially anyone Rutledge might have focused on. I’m going to try to get medical care for anyone who needs it. We don’t know if there’s a treatment for wraiths. But the Commandant has gotten a new appreciation for Sensitives, so we’ve got a better opportunity to look now.” He looked at me. “I’d still recommend you stick with ‘don’t ask, don’t tell’ at the moment.”
“I won’t be telling,” I assured him. “What about you?”
He smiled. “I’m back on duty and out of the magic game. My job, as far as I see it, is to keep Containment on the straight and narrow.”
“Says the Commandant?” I asked with a smile.
Gunnar grinned, sat back, crossed his ankles on the table. “Exactly. And that, lady and gentlemen, is a full day’s work.”
• • •
There wasn’t much we could do with that right now. For tonight, at least, the Veil was closed. Tomorrow would bring what it would. We’d talk to the rest of the group, figure out a plan.
But that was for tomorrow. Tonight, I had other plans. So when the door opened and Tadji walked inside, I scooted them all out.
“All right,” I said. “She’s here. Everybody out.”
I’d known she was coming, had already warned them they’d have to give us some space when she arrived. Some time to talk. She’d asked for the meeting, and I was ninety percent sure I knew what was going to happen.
Tadji had been through hell, and she had walls higher than Devil’s Isle. She was going to talk about magic, about how she couldn’t deal with it—or by extension, me.
“Hey, Tadji,” Gunnar said as he and Liam rose from the table. “We’re just leaving. Gonna go home, maybe crack open a beer.”
I loved Gunnar, but he wasn’t an actor. And he didn’t sound even slightly convincing.
“Okay,” Tadji said. “Thanks for the heads-up?”
They walked out, leaving us alone.
“Hey,” I said, standing to give her a hug. “How’s your mom?”
“She’s okay, all things considered.”
“You wanna sit down?”
“Yeah,” she said, and pulled out a chair.
We sat in silence for a moment. I missed the ticking of my cuckoo clock. It would have given me something to focus on.
Might as well cut to the chase, I thought, and make it easier on both of us. “Are you breaking up with me?”
She half laughed, half sobbed, as tears began to flow. “I don’t know. I had this entire speech prepared—you know me and words—about how I need to take a break. About how I don’t know if I can do this. If I can live with all this magic.”
I nodded, made myself stay quiet, let her get it out.
She wiped away tears. “Growing up was hard, Claire. Being surrounded by the magic, the expectations. It was too hard, and it took so long for me to get away from it. I hoped New Orleans had gotten free of it. But it’s not. Is still here, and it’s messy.” She looked up at me. “It suffocates me.”
Wasn’t it strange that I’d had exactly the opposite experience? A father who’d had magic but had hidden it from me.
