Chapter Seventeen
Emerging from my room at the Manor a week later, overly tired from night after night of nightmares—my subconscious was screaming at me—I went down to breakfast. I had been holed up in my room since we returned to New York. The only time I left my room was to send Sin one spelled letter. But I was done with my girlish crying jags and self-pity, and done trying to mentally work through the betrayal and the fury of being deceived so badly. The complete mortification. Those gripping emotions had me in the corner at times, my body trembling.
But I understood now. I had been a victim. There was no blaming myself anymore.
Revenge…that was a different story. I was game for revenge.
Hell yes, I was.
There was a journey I needed to first take to understand the mind behind the Walkers. It was a mission I had been thinking back and forth about as I sat in my bedroom, the green and white walls at times feeling like they were swallowing me. This was step one to catching the bastard who had done this.
When I entered the Elemental kitchen during breakfast, everyone stopped eating, their eyes going to me. All of their expressions quickly altered. Careful. Neutral. I muttered, “I’m not going to break. I’m done with that, so don’t you dare pity me.” I moved toward the food, my black boots at odds with the colorful tiles. “You were all screwed over too, so don’t pretend like you’re fine for my sake.”
King Collins cleared his throat. “We are angry. But it’s not the same for us.”
I grabbed a plate, maybe a bit too forcefully. “Yes, I know this. You don’t need to remind me. My point is, I wasn’t the only one hurt in this.” I scooped oatmeal on my plate, and a few pieces of toast, and claimed my empty seat at the silent table. I hung my black purse with the hot pink skull on the back of my chair, my attention on King Collins. “I know everyone’s been discussing what happened and ways to keep it from happening again. And I know you’re still working on the issue of Philip Masterson, but I need to do what I said that night. I thought everyone could compile a list of pertinent questions to ask when I go.”
King Collins stared at me for a long moment. “You’re going to the Temple.”
It wasn’t a question, but I answered anyway. “Yes.”
“To speak with the real Leric Damon?”
I nodded once, eating a large spoonful of oatmeal. “I don’t want to.” I shook my head, glancing down at my plate. “But I have to.” I ran a hand through my hair before peering back up to him. “Plus, he may be able to answer questions for us.”
Queen Cooper placed her folded hands on the table, asking in a soothing voice, “Are you sure this is the best route?” For you, her golden gaze said.
My head dropped backward on my chair, and I stared blindly at the ceiling. “It’s my only option. We’re up against a powerful Mystical. And the One will know them all. With the right questions, we may be able to track down this fucker before he attacks us again.” I tilted my head to King Collins. “You all understand that a Mystical was the orchestrator behind both attacks, correct?” I still couldn’t say too much, as no secrets were revealed outside the Temple.
“You mean the Shadows?” My King’s blue eyebrows rose. “Yes, we’ve deduced that much. It was too coincidental.” He smirked, slow and steady. “The Mystical was also the orchestrator behind the…Walkers.”
I blinked at him. “You should probably tuck away whatever book you’ve been reading, because if I came across it…you would no longer have it.”
King Collins’s head jerked to Queen Ruckler. She nodded once for my truth. He muttered, “Well, hell. I’ll have to hide the damn thing then.” He scowled at me a moment. “That would have been nice to know beforehand.”
“I’ve learned to talk in code now.” I took a few bites of my oatmeal. “Anyway, I’ll want that list of questions as soon as possible.”
Elder Farrar cleared his throat, and we all peered to him as he lifted a yellow pad of paper off the breakfast table, handing it and a pencil to me. “I took notes during the meetings, writing down our most important questions, but you may want to add a few of your own.” I held the pad of paper and pencil in one hand, gaping. He merely tapped his temple before shrugging his shoulders. “I knew you were going.”
“Right.” I stared at the pad of paper and pencil in my hand. Seeing the scribbled list made it that much more real. “Thank you.”
“You’ll do fine,” Elder Farrar murmured in a gentle voice. My wide, slightly scared eyes lifted to him. “Just be yourself, tell the truth.” He tilted his head. “Or the truth you need to tell. But ask questions. You won’t faint or throw up or cry or do anything else when you’re in front of him that you’re afraid of.” Slow words. “Even though I can’t see it, I know you’ll be fine.”