“More than a few. That’s how we find a lot of our recruits.”
Since becoming leader of the light I’d learned that children with special abilities were dumped more often than most. Maybe one of their parents had been a Nephilim slumming on the human side and wound up dead; then the remaining parent was unable to deal with a very strange kid. Or maybe both parents wound up dead and the aunts, uncles, grandparents couldn’t handle it either. Or maybe, as happened to Luther, Nephilim killed both parents for no reason that anyone could fathom and the kid was “hidden” in the system until the federation found them and took them into the fold.
“You’d been bounced back enough times,” Sawyer continued, “that someone got suspicious and forwarded your file to Ruthie. Once she took a peek, she made certain you were brought directly to her.”
“I thought there was nothing in my file about what I could do.”
“There wasn’t.”
“Then what was so damn special about me?”
“Your name, for one.”
I’d always thought some social worker got creative, or that I’d first been found in Phoenix. But I no longer believed that.
“You were left on a doorstep in Cairo with a note that said you were Elizabeth Phoenix.”
“Interesting.”
“Very. There were no Phoenixes in the area, and every other family by that name did not lay claim to you.”
“So I went into the system.”
Sawyer spread his hands. “In your file there was a photograph. Ruthie took one look and sent for me. I came to Milwaukee as a wolf.”
“The first sight of me must have rattled your cage.”
“So to speak,” he murmured. Then he took a deep breath, in and out. “You smelled like her too.”
“Why don’t I remember this? I know teenagers are oblivious, but being smelled by a wolf should be pretty unforgettable, especially in Milwaukee.”
Sawyer passed his hand, palm up, through the air, and wind swirled through the room, making the curtains sway to and fro, whipping the covers off the bed, ruffling my hair and his. Then he turned his palm downward, and the wind died.
“Magic has its uses,” he said. “I came in the night; I slipped in and slipped out. No one saw me but Ruthie.”
“Weren’t you worried? My mother bought a ticket to the dark-side ball. Pledged her soul, sold it; hell, maybe she even sold mine.”
I frowned. That would be bad.
“She couldn’t sell what she never knew existed. She was dead when you were born.”
“There is just something so wrong about that statement.”
“Would you have preferred that she raised you?”
I thought about the woman I’d seen in Sawyer’s head—the early years. She might not have been so bad.
Then I remembered the psycho downstairs. Perhaps the foster homes had been the lesser of two evils. At least there’d been Ruthie. Although lately, Ruthie was scaring me.
“You told me once that you knew no more about my parents than I did.”
“I lied,” Sawyer said simply.
“Ask a stupid question,” I muttered. “So why should I believe what you’re telling me now?”
“I didn’t tell you. You saw it for yourself.”
“For all I know you’re perfectly capable of making me see whatever you want me to.”
“I can’t.”
“But you lie.”
His gaze flicked to the door again, and I spun just as it opened. The Phoenix stood there with a knowing smile, fingers wrapped around Jimmy’s forearm.
There wasn’t a mark on him, though I had to assume there had been. Sawyer had knocked him out—jaw, forehead—Jimmy had no doubt sported a bruise that had already faded. He did appear hungover and pretty pissed off. I couldn’t blame him.
His lip curled as he glanced first at me, then at Sawyer. “Jesus, Lizzy, have some pride. He’s Satan’s pool boy.”
I opened my mouth to explain, then thought better of it. Sawyer had showed me a lot last night. Probably not a good idea to let the Phoenix know that. Jimmy could just live with it. We all did what—and sometimes who—we had to do.
“I know he’s been doing you for the past few months.” The Phoenix leaned over and lowered her voice. “But that was his job. He loves me. The only reason he was ever interested in you was so he could pretend I was back. Now I am.”
I glanced at Sawyer, but his face was as inscrutable as always. Maybe she was right. Maybe Sawyer had only been with me because I looked like her. Maybe that was why he’d insisted on showing me the past. So I’d understand whatever he might do in the future.
“He’s yours,” I said. “Not a problem.”
“I know you hear the voice like I do.”
She changed topics so fast it took me a few beats to catch up. “What?”
“The voice in your head. Who do you think that is?”
“My demon.”
“Sweetie.” She made a tsking sound. “The voice isn’t your demon. It’s the demon. Samyaza.”