Visions of Skyfire

Chapter 52

President Cora Sterling studied her daughter’s pinched, pale features and shook her head. “Deidre, you don’t look well at all. Are you sleeping?”

“What? Oh. Yes. I’m fine, Mother.” She pushed asparagus tips across her plate, the tines of her fork scraping against the fine china.

Cora winced. Here in the family dining room, they didn’t really stand on ceremony at meals, but the quiet screech of sound was beginning to get on her nerves. “Could you stop, dear? If you’re not going to eat Chef Patrice’s meal, simply put your fork down.”

“I’m sorry.” Deidre did set the heavy sterling silver fork aside, then smiled at the waiter who deftly removed her plate. Once he had left the room, Deidre reached for her wineglass and took a sip. “Honestly, I guess I’m just not hungry.”

Cora didn’t like this one bit. For more than two weeks now, her daughter had been moody, distant. Completely unlike her normal vibrant self. Which could only mean something was bothering her. “Why don’t you tell me what the trouble is? I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t handle together.”

“There’s no trouble, really.” Her fingers tapped against the Irish linen tablecloth until Cora’s gaze landed on her hand. Deidre huffed out a breath and folded her hands together tightly to keep them still.

“This is about Susan, isn’t it?”

“What?”

Cora smiled. “Your best friend has moved away and you’re feeling a little lost.”

“Oh. Yes, I guess so.” Standing up, Deidre walked to the wide bank of windows overlooking the pristine White House lawn. Under the soft glow of discreetly placed lighting, the neatly trimmed hedges and flower beds looked, Cora knew, almost artificial in their perfection.

Frowning a bit, Cora watched the slump of her daughter’s shoulders and pushed away from the table. A shame to leave such an excellent meal unfinished, but sometimes a mother’s duty came first.

She moved alongside her daughter, draped one arm around her shoulders and said, “I know it’s hard. Losing a friend is never easy, but Susan may yet move back to D.C.”

“I don’t think so,” Deidre murmured.

“Well,” Cora told her, “sadly, I have to say that may be for the best.”

“Why?”

Looking into Deidre’s eyes, Cora smoothed her daughter’s hair back from her face and said, “I think Susan was a little too radical in her beliefs about the witch problem, honey. I saw that easily in the meeting I had here with you and the other RFW members. She was headed for trouble and I’d prefer that you not be with her when she finds it.”

A short, sharp laugh exploded from Deidre’s throat, and she lifted one hand to her mouth to stifle her reaction.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing,” Deidre said, shaking her head. “Nothing at all. I’m sure you’re right. Susan was … passionate about her involvement with RFW.”

“A cool head serves you better than misplaced passion,” Cora said.

“I suppose.” Nodding to herself, Deidre shifted her gaze from the world outside the window to her mother’s keen eyes. “And you should know that I’ve decided to take a step back from RFW for a while myself.”

“Have you?” Delighted to hear it, Cora leaned forward and gave her daughter a fierce hug. “I’m so glad.”

Deidre hugged her back briefly, then pulled away. “I know my being a part of the organization wasn’t easy on you, Mother.”

She wouldn’t deny it. Even other heads of state had begun to question Cora’s authority when her own daughter was a member of what some considered nothing more than a veiled terrorist group.

“No, it wasn’t. Especially now,” Cora said, her lips thinning into a tight line. “After that raid on the internment camp in Nebraska, the papers are in a frenzy, demanding arrests.”

Deidre took a breath and asked, “Have they discovered anything new about that?”

“No.” It pained her to admit it, but there it was. Grimly, Cora said, “The missing witches are still unaccounted for. There are three guards dead and the security tapes—which no doubt caught the whole thing—are missing as well.”

Beside her, Deidre looked concerned and Cora was grateful for the support. Forcing herself to smile, she hugged her girl again and said, “Now don’t you worry, dear. We’ll find those responsible. Meanwhile, why don’t we see what Chef Patrice has for dessert?”

Deidre was silent throughout the rest of the meal, but Cora consoled herself with the fact that at least her daughter ate every last morsel of the brandied pears and cinnamon mousse.