“And what would that be?” Asmodai sounded vaguely amused, and she looked at him. Yup, a smile was curling the corners of his mouth, and his dark eyes were filled with laughter. What was he up to? What else did he know?
“Eating—they taste real good—and that’s it,” Piers said. “And while all the fae are assholes, the Walker’s the biggest asshole of the lot of them.”
Roz thought about it. “Oh right. Well, I can see why he wouldn’t want the Key in the wrong hands. You think he would have gone for it.”
“Oh yes. Plus, I had something else to offer him.”
“You did? What?”
“His daughter.”
The words made no sense. “You have his daughter.”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“No.” Piers shook his head and turned to stare at her, a look of horror in his eyes. “No. No. No. Please tell me that what I’m thinking right now is not the truth.”
Asmodai laughed aloud. “It’s almost worth my plans failing just to see the expression on your face, Lamont.”
“Piss off.”
Okay, she might be slow, but she wasn’t stupid. For long minutes, shock held her silent. “This Walker guy is my father?”
“Yes,” Asmodai answered.
“You’re sure? Because my mother never called him the Walker, she called him Finn.”
“Without a shadow of a doubt.”
She reached behind her and fumbled for a chair, stepped back, and sank down before her knees gave out. Everyone in the room was staring at her, with vastly differing expressions. Asmodai appeared amused, as did Christian. Piers looked outraged, but then she had the biggest fae asshole in the world for a father. Did that mean he wouldn’t like her anymore?
Tara’s brows were drawn together as if thinking the whole thing through; then her face cleared and she smiled. “Hey, so your father is my mother’s uncle, which makes us…cousins on my mother’s side, sort of.”
At least the relationship was only on Tara’s mother’s side and Roz wasn’t related to Asmodai—that would have been too creepy.
It was weird; Roz had never even thought about finding her father. Up until recently, she’d presumed he was dead. And since she’d found out that he was actually fae and immortal, she’d been too busy to think about the possibility of him still existing somewhere.
Besides, she hated him. He’d abandoned them. If he’d stayed and protected them, her mother would never have died that night. Roz would never have made a deal with a demon. What would her life have been like?
Her mother had always sworn that he would return for them one day. Had been convinced that he had some reason for staying away.
Maybe it was because he couldn’t stand the sight of a daughter with her mixed blood. But she could remember him vaguely. He’d loved her, she would have sworn to that.
Nothing made sense.
Except one thing.
Asmodai was a bastard.
He’d known who she was and hadn’t told her. And he’d planned to hand her over to the man who had tried to murder his own niece because she had mixed blood. She’d believed Asmodai had come to care for her over the years. But he would do this to her? Hand her over to what would likely be her death?
She got up on slightly shaky legs and strode toward him.
He stood as she approached, a puzzled frown replacing the amusement.
Bunching her fist at her side, she drew back her arm, and punched him as hard as she could. Too late, she realized it was the same hand she’d used to punch Jack, and her knuckles were already bruised. “Ow.”
He reached up and touched his lip. “What the hell was that for?”
“You bastard,” she said. “Have you known this all along?”
“I knew you were half-fae, but I only discovered who your father was recently when we met again.”
“And you were going to hand me over to him?”
“I considered it more as an introduction.”
“An introduction to the man who nearly killed his own niece because she had mixed blood.”
He raised a brow as though he hadn’t made the connection. “Even the Walker wouldn’t kill his own child.”
“You reckon?” Suddenly all her grievances against him welled up inside her. “And another thing. You lied to me.”
The amusement was back. “I did?”
“You told me everyone would want me dead. When really it’s just…” She hesitated, hating to put it into words. “Just my father.”
“Actually, I doubt he’ll kill you,” Christian said.
“Really?” How she wished she believed that. “And why is that?”
“He desired Tara’s death because she had demon blood as well as fae. And you said your father stayed with you until you were around six—that hardly sounds like the actions of a man who hates you.”
“So why did he leave, why abandon us like that?”
“My guess is, he got caught up in one of the demon wars, probably couldn’t get back. From what you told us, the timing would have been right. We’ll find out at the meeting.”