“Ellen, please,” said a cultured, tired voice on the other end of the phone. I’d met Corry’s mom very briefly, but I hadn’t even known her first name until that moment. “Anyone who houses my runaway daughter gets to call me Ellen.”
“I’m sorry,” I said to Ellen Tanger. “I’m glad to see her, but I wish the circumstances were different.”
Corry’s mother gave a very ladylike little snort. “As do I. Did she tell you that she was grounded?”
I glanced at Corry, who had returned to her seat and folded her arms across her chest defensively. “No, she didn’t,” I said carefully.
“I didn’t think so.” There was a long, staticky noise as Ellen Tanger sighed into the phone. “This isn’t the first time she’s snuck out, Miss Bernard.”
“Scarlett,” I said automatically. “Anyone who trusts me with their runaway daughter gets to call me Scarlett.”
“Scarlett, then,” she said, ignoring the lame joke. “I kept thinking that with a new school, a new . . . family arrangement, this behavior would stop.” There was a little catch in her voice, and when she spoke again, it was with desperation. “I’m sorry that Corry invited you into our problems, but . . . what am I supposed to do? What did your mother do?”
There was no reason for that to sting, but it did. “My mother is dead,” I said quietly.
Corry’s mother sucked in a breath. “Was it . . . one of them?” she asked fearfully.
Oh . . . crapnuggets. I met Corry’s eyes. As if she’d heard her mother, she looked away guiltily. Corry had told her mom about the Old World. That was understandable, but very, very bad.
Corry was technically part of the Old World, so she was allowed to know anything I wanted to tell her about how things work. Her mother, however, was purely human, and if Dashiell found out a human knew . . . he’d most likely kill her. We had to make sure Dashiell didn’t find out. I added that to my mental list of impossible things to do.
I took a deep breath and processed the question. Had vampires killed my mother? “No, it wasn’t one of them,” I answered, hoping I sounded at least a little reassuring. It was one of us, I added silently. Olivia had been a null when she’d killed my mom and dad. But Ellen Tanger didn’t need to know that.
I promised her that I would bring Corry home after we’d talked for a bit, and hung up my phone. When I looked back at Corry, her arms were still crossed over her chest. “You see what I’m dealing with?” she said petulantly.
I put the phone back in my pocket. “You told her about vampires,” I said carefully.
Her arms uncrossed as she balled her hands into fists. “I had to!” she said defensively. “She had all these questions, and—”
I held up a hand, “It’s done, Corry. I’m not going to yell at you. But do you understand that you may have put her in danger?”
Her eyes widened. “No . . . I mean, I knew I wasn’t supposed to say anything, but . . .” she swallowed hard. “Is she . . . what’s gonna happen?”
I thought that over for a moment. It was too late to press Ellen’s mind—erasing memory only works shortly after the event in question, and she’d obviously known for a while. “I gotta think about it,” I said at last. “For now just tell your mom she can’t ever talk about knowing, even in front of me. Even in front of you. You never know who’s listening.”
Subdued, Corry nodded. “And you’ve got to give her a break, kid,” I added. “She just found out that a whole world of magic exists, and everyone in it wants a piece of her little girl. She is balls-out terrified.” Corry shrugged noncommittally. Her face was creased down in something resembling a pout. I repressed a sigh. This wasn’t exactly what I needed right now.
“She said you’ve been sneaking out at night,” I ventured. The girl reached one hand up to play with a little bead necklace, not meeting my eyes again. “Any particular reason?”
A beat passed, and then Corry looked right at me, pain in her eyes. “I’m not a child,” she burst out. “Not anymore. If I want to go out, I should be able to.”
“Where do you go?” I asked mildly.
She looked surprised for a moment, her hand going still at her throat. “I just walk,” she said hesitantly. “To the movies, or a bookstore. There’s a coffee shop that’s open late; sometimes I go there. I just . . . don’t want to be alone,” she confessed. “But I don’t want to be with anyone who . . . knows.”
Well, shit. Once again, I felt woefully inadequate. I wanted to help her, but I was not a frickin’ family therapist. There were layers of anguish here, and I had no idea how to peel them back for Corry. I considered telling her to talk to her actual therapist, but that seemed dismissive. “Have you told your mom that?” I said carefully.
The girl’s face clouded over again. “She doesn’t get it,” Corry muttered. “Not like you.”
Ah. I saw where this was going. Corry had cast me as the rebellious mother-alternative folk hero. Jesse and I had rescued her once, and now she thought I could save her again. I wished it were true.