“There had been stories before. Rumors of reproductive compatibility. If there’s something Humans are good for, it’s breeding.” Father stands, lips curled in mild disgust, and leisurely steps around his desk. “But the stories came from other countries, and there was never any proof. Here, Weres are insular, and Humans are cowards. Like Miss Paris said, they simply don’t interact enough. But this child was very young. They were not being raised by their biological parents for several reasons. They didn’t know about their origins or their questionable genetic makeup, but they appeared to have taken after their father. They presented as Human, fully, which I must admit, made them less interesting to me—the implication of their existence was much less concerning. And yet, the occurrence was unique, and I decided to monitor the situation. It felt like the wise thing to do.” He leans against his desk, drumming his fingers along the wooden edge. Something close to terror is beginning to stuff the inside of my throat. “Where could a Vampyre stow a half-Were child who presented as Human? Human territory appeared to be the best option. But how? It seemed like an impossible predicament. And that’s where I remembered that I, myself, had a child stashed away in Human territory. And that she might enjoy some companionship.”
My heart thumps loudly against the confines of my rib cage. I tear my eyes from Father’s and slowly turn to my right. I find Serena already looking at me. Her eyes are welling with tears.
“Did you know?” I ask.
She doesn’t answer. The tears, though, start falling.
“She did not.” It’s Father who responds, even though I’m rapidly losing interest in what he has to say. “I would know otherwise. Like I said, I monitored her for years. Even when your tenure as the Collateral ended, nothing that she did set off any alarms. In fact, she seemed to have no interest in Weres at all. Did you, Miss Paris?” He smiles at Serena, and the hatred in her glare could burn him as viciously as the sunlight. He ignores her and turns to me. “She was all about financial journalism, or something or other. I must say, our vigilance lapsed for a few years. The girl had grown into a promising, if very Human, young woman. Sometimes she’d disappear for a few days without warning, but that’s the youths. Carefree. Adventurous. I never suspected that it might have something to do with her genes. Until . . .”
“I despise you,” Serena hisses.
“I would expect no less. Human-Were hybrid that you are, you are well predisposed to, and I do not blame you. But the sloppy way you went about it when your Were half began emerging and you decided to research your parents, that certainly is your fault. You went around asking questions, stuck your nose into every nook and cranny of the Human-Were Bureau. You made it outrageously clear that something was changing in you, and that you were looking for guidance.” His tone is scolding. More than anything Father has ever said to me, it makes me want to punch him. “In hindsight, it all made sense. The fact that most of your trips and disappearances were timed with the full moon. You needed to be outside, didn’t you? The urge to be in nature became so irresistibly strong, you—”
“You know nothing,” Serena spits out.
“But I do, Miss Paris. I know your bloodwork was all over the place. I know your senses became almost unbearably acute, so acute that they exceeded your Human doctor’s ability to measure them. I know that you underwent genetic testing and the results came back as though the sample was contaminated—three times. I know that every full moon you felt like you needed to crawl out of your skin, and that one day you cut through the flesh of your forearm, just to see if your blood had turned green overnight. You were that far gone, suspecting that something inside you was very, very different.”
Serena’s jaw clenches. “How do you even—”
“Some of it I discovered once we started surveilling you assiduously. Most of it, you told me.”
“No. I would never.”
“But you did. When I thralled you, on the first day you got here.”
Serena’s mouth drops open, and the weight at the bottom of my stomach sinks heavier.
“I made sure you wouldn’t remember. You may have been thralled before by Misery, but like everything else about her culture, my daughter was never properly taught.” He appears amused by Serena’s horrified expression. “And you know what else you told me? You were, tragically, unable to find out who your own parents were, and to ascertain whether one of them was a Were. However, once you started digging and using your considerable investigative skills, you heard about Thomas Jalakas.
“Thomas was an interesting man. He’d been working for the Bureau some years earlier, had struck up a relationship with one of Roscoe’s seconds, and . . . I believe we all know how the story goes. Or maybe you don’t, Misery.” His eyes laser onto mine. “The Were woman became pregnant. Thomas, understandably, didn’t believe her when she told him that the child was his. The relationship ended, and career politician that he was, I doubt he thought about his former lover much in the following years. Instead, he steadily rose through the ranks. Then, about a year ago, he went back to the Human-Were Bureau, this time as director. The security clearance that came with it gave him access to several intelligence reports, and he grew curious about the fate of his former paramour. He searched for her name, and came across a very interesting picture.”
The most infinitesimal movement of Father’s finger, and one of the guards activates the monitor on his desk. She swipes the touch screen a few times, then turns it in my direction.
I recognize Maria Moreland from the picture in Lowe’s room. And Ana, who’s holding her hand, from some of the best moments in the last month of my life. They are sitting on the lakeshore, feet submerged in the water. It’s a candid photo taken from a distance, similar to something the Human paparazzo would produce. “The child piqued his interest. Earlier tonight you confronted Arthur Davenport, so I assume you already know how much the child resembles her biological father. Thomas now had very strong suspicions that hybrids were possible. So he decided to bring the knowledge to Governor Davenport.”
“And the governor had Ana’s father killed,” I conclude.
“Ana? Ah, Liliana Moreland. As a matter of fact, he did not. But he did recognize that the allegations could prove very dangerous. His solution, admittedly a poor one, was to remove Thomas from his position as the head of the Bureau and give him a far more prestigious one. Thomas should have been pleased. Instead, he became obsessed with finding out more about his daughter. He brought attention to himself, and several months later, word reached Miss Paris that someone else had been asking the very same questions she had been. When they set up a meeting, I finally knew I had to intervene.
“So, no, Misery. It wasn’t the governor who eliminated Thomas Jalakas. Or it was, but only in the sense that I thralled him to think that if he didn’t, his embezzlement peccadillos would be unearthed. Just like Emery and the Loyals were a convenient candidate for Lowe’s suspicions when we were forced to attempt to take Liliana. Mick was very helpful with that.”
“You weren’t forced to take Ana, or Serena. You chose to do it.”
He sighs, as ever let down by me. “Sometimes, we become more than who we are. Sometimes, we become symbols. And that’s something you should be well aware of, Misery. After all, you spent most of your life as a symbol of peace.”
“If anything, I symbolized the utter lack of trust between Humans and Vampyres,” I retort.
“People like Miss Paris here, and Liliana Moreland,” he goes on as if I never spoke, “are dangerous. All the more if they share the traits and talents of both their species. For now, neither of them is able to shift. But they might still transcend themselves and become important, powerful symbols of unity between two peoples who have been senselessly at odds for centuries.”
“And that would leave you defenseless in the region, and drastically reduce your influence,” Serena murmurs, icy cold. I wonder how she can be so calm. Perhaps I’m feeling both our angers. “Maddie Garcia won the Human elections, didn’t she? She knows she holds all the power, and she’s refusing to meet with you because of the way you’ve been puppeteering Governor Davenport for decades.”
“Miss Paris, I wish some of your political acumen had rubbed off. Maybe my daughter would stop looking at me as though I am a villain for acting in the interest of my people.”
“Oh, fuck off.” I glance around at his enforcers, hoping at least one of them is seeing the vileness of this. They remain statue-like and betray no emotions. “You didn’t put this through a vote. You didn’t inform anyone of your decision. Do you really think that most Vampyres, or even the damn council, would be okay with you going about killing and abducting people?”
“Our people are accustomed to a certain degree of comfort. Few of them bother wondering what goes into providing it.”