Even though Reg had half-expected this ever since the confrontation with the Witch Doctor, it still sent her reeling. She was suddenly lightheaded, bright spots appearing before her eyes. She didn’t want to misunderstand Harrison’s use of the English language. Things didn’t always come out the way he intended them. She could be completely misunderstanding him. Maybe he meant that Weston had protected her at some point. That she had run away or been kidnapped, and he had brought her back. Or that he’d healed her from a potentially fatal illness.
He had given Reg to Norma Jean.
“He was a man,” Norma Jean said in Reg’s head. “Just a man like any other. He didn’t seem that different.”
But he had been, hadn’t he?
“Do you mean… that he’s my biological father?” Reg asked Harrison as calmly as she could.
Harrison scratched his head. “Biological… I am not sure. My kind… it is not the same as when humans meet. But without him, you were not. And with him, you were.”
Reg groaned. She brought her feet up onto the chair, knees tight against her chest. “Don’t tell me that! Then these… gifts that I have? They are from him?”
“They are… part of him.” Harrison pondered. “We don’t know when we create with a human, what will be the result. A child with great powers, or a child with little power at all. When a child is born, there is… a disruption in our order. We can sense it… That is how I knew of your existence and your need for protection.”
“But why would you protect me? If Weston was my father, then wasn’t it his responsibility?”
“He was… gathered in. There is a consequence to creation. He could not be there. But he left no clues to his chosen exile.”
“So the Witch Doctor couldn’t find him.”
“Destine would have if he could. We are vulnerable when in that state. Destine hoped to remove him from this earth. The rest of us watched for him, but Destine was more… dedicated.”
“And he thought Norma Jean would know where Weston went? That he would leave her a trail of breadcrumbs so she could find him again?”
“Breadcrumbs.” His face lit up with a big smile. “What an apt word. For Weston to come back, he would need to be close to his loved one. But Destine was unable to find the trail. He was furious. And he has been searching still, waiting for some sign of Weston’s return.”
Reg shook her head. “And I walked right into him. What are the odds that I would move into the town he was operating out of?”
“Odds?”
“What are the chances that we would run into each other? I managed to lose him all those years ago in Maine. We should never have run into each other again. But then I decide to come to Black Sands because it sounded like a good place to run a con as a psychic. And things would never be the same again…”
“It is not chance,” Harrison said slowly. “It was certainty. You and Destine were both drawn to this place.”
“Why?”
He raised his eyebrows comically high. “Because Weston was here. He left his imprint on the place. It is very faint, so many years later, but not so faint that one of our kind cannot feel it.”
“And me? Do you think I could sense him here too?”
Harrison nodded. “Why else would you come here? Traveling all across the country? Humans like to stay in one place, near their nesting place. They don’t like to go long temporal distances. But you did not stay. You came here when you had no one to help take care of you, no job, no roots. Just… Weston’s imprint.”
“I don’t know.” Reg shook her head. “I know why I came here, and it wasn’t just a feeling that I should. It was a decision based on logic. On trying to earn money to support myself.”
“Humans can work anywhere. You did not have to come to this location to work.”
“Well, no,” Reg agreed. “I have worked in other places, and I move fairly often. But Black Sands seemed like a good place to land. I heard that there were more witches and psychics here than anywhere else in the country. So, of course, I came here.”
Harrison nodded and petted Starlight with long, slow strokes.
“This is crazy. Everyone keeps asking me where I got my talents. And I thought… they were just something I developed to survive. Learning to cold read people. To avoid trouble. How to know when people were telling the truth, and whether they were a danger to me. I needed those things to survive. I didn’t even know there was such a thing as a real psychic gift until I moved here. And even now, I don’t understand it and half the time don’t even believe it myself.”
“We have observed that humans who go through hardship develop stronger gifts. Or humans with stronger gifts run into more problems. We don’t know why this is. In some cultures, children are taken away from their families, are put through trials, in order to force the development of their inborn talents.”
Reg remembered Calliopia’s kidnapping and incarceration with the pixies. She remembered Calliopia’s father talking about the ordeal she had been through. Reg had suspected at the time that he had been the one to put her through it, but she couldn’t understand why he would do such a thing. Maybe it had been to force the development of her fairy gifts, to trick her into coming into her powers.
“That’s cruel. I know what it’s like to have to live without parents. No one should ever do that.”
Harrison shrugged as if it were nothing. According to Francesca, immortals didn’t have any feelings for humans, but saw them just as bugs or amusing toys, to play with and discard as they liked. Harrison had been helpful to Reg, and she had good feelings around him, but did he love her like the uncle he had once pretended to be? Did he care how she felt or how she turned out in life? Or was he part of the reason she had gone through so many difficulties, carefully nudging her gifts to blossom, like someone forcing flower bulbs?
Harrison’s eyes roved around the room.
“Why are you really here?” Reg asked suspiciously. “You didn’t come here because you thought I had questions you could answer. You haven’t ever cared about my questions before. You always avoid answering them.”
Harrison gave her a cheerful smile, a mask that covered up whatever his real motives were. He wasn’t easy for her to read, especially since he could block her psychic powers. “Perhaps I wanted to see my old friend again,” he offered, indicating Starlight. He kissed the top of the cat’s head and cuddled him close to his face. Reg found it very uncomfortable to see him doting on a cat like a little child or crazy cat lady. It was nice that he liked cats, but he seemed to like them just a little too much.
“Do you want a cat? We have nine that we are trying to find new homes for.”
He chuckled. “It would not be a good choice for me to provide a temporal home for another creature. Especially a kattakyn.”
Reg watched him as he continued to lavish attention on Starlight. “Did you… know him in another life? Or when he was with another owner?” She had taken his ‘old friend’ as a tongue-in-cheek joke, but maybe it had been accurate. Perhaps he had known Starlight for longer than she thought. They had acted immediately comfortable and friendly with each other from the first time they met.
Harrison looked into Starlight’s face for a moment. “He is a very old, wise soul.”
“So you do know him?”
Reg picked up her coffee cup and sipped the cooling liquid. She really ought to have something to eat before all of the caffeine gave her the shakes. When she looked back at Harrison for his answer to her question, he was no longer there.
Reg spent what felt like hours on the phone with the people at the animal shelter, being passed from one person to another, trying to find out what they knew about Starlight’s history and his previous owner. She would not have been at all surprised to learn that his previous owner had been named Harrison, or some other familiar name. Just how many people had lied to her about the cat’s history? Did anyone at the shelter know that he was psychic? That he was an ancient soul? Reg didn’t even know what that meant, but she felt embarrassed that she had always just treated him like a cat when he seemed to be something more, at least when Harrison talked about him. Corvin had once suggested that Starlight might be a reincarnate, a cat that had been a person in a previous life. But Reg didn’t believe in reincarnation.
Just like she didn’t believe in ghosts or magic. How far had that gotten her?
She remembered the worker at the shelter telling her that Starlight’s previous owner had died, and that was why he had been so depressed and not responded to anyone until Reg’s arrival. He had connected to her like he hadn’t to anyone else. Was that something to do with Harrison? Maybe Reg had been predestined to go to Black Sands and maybe she was supposed to get a cat and be a psychic and whatever else Weston had declared.
She was angry whenever she thought of Weston. Why would he bring a child into the world when it was against their rules and she was bound to live a life of hardship and be on the outside, never belonging? What was the benefit to him? Was he playing with them like pieces on a chess board? Because of what he had done, Norma Jean had been tortured and killed. There had been so many negative consequences; Reg didn’t understand why he would risk it. What was the good of bringing a child into such a world?
She put her phone down on the coffee table, watching Starlight, expecting him to start acting like a person or to be transformed into one in front of her eyes. But he acted just like he always did, finding a bright sunbeam and sitting with one hind leg splayed out while he washed. Her phone buzzed. She looked at the screen.
Corvin.
Not phoning her this time, but sending a text message.
How about dinner?
Reg looked at the time and texted him back. Bit early, isn’t it?
She felt guilty as soon as she sent the text. Her answer should have been a resounding no. Or ignoring him. She shouldn’t even consider the proposition. He was too dangerous.
But she wanted to ask him about Starlight and to see what he thought about Harrison’s various claims. Was Harrison leading her on? Seeing what kind of imaginary story he could get her to believe?
Corvin was a historian. He would be able to tell her about the immortals, what the rumors and myths were. And he could tell her why he didn’t like Starlight, and why Starlight didn’t like him. Was the enmity between them more than just that of someone who didn’t like cats?
Corvin’s return text buzzed. Early or late, whatever time you like.
She shouldn’t even be able to receive a text from him. Hadn’t she blocked him from her phone? He must have either changed his number or somehow magicked her phone to change the settings. Maybe that last time he had been there, waiting on the street for her. He’d said that he knew she had blocked him, something that she didn’t think he should be able to tell from his end.
Where? She texted back. Somewhere with people.
It hadn’t stopped him the last time. He had just charmed her into wanting to go somewhere they could be alone. He had convinced her to do things she swore she would not do. But she was stronger now. She had learned how to block him. Most of the time. She was feeling stronger and more sure of herself. And if she had the magic of an immortal, then she should be able to do anything she set her mind on, shouldn’t she?
She was half-expecting him to suggest The Crystal Bowl, since that was where they had met more often than not. He obviously liked it there. And then there was the fancy place that he had taken her the night that he did manage to steal her powers. She wouldn’t want to go back there, though the food had been fantastic. With the way that he had charmed her, she probably would have thought that dirt tasted good.
Harbor Port of Call?
Reg hadn’t been there before. It would, she assumed, be a seafood menu. Which was okay with her.
Okay. Send me address.
I’ll pick you up, Corvin texted back.
Reg considered. It would mean he would be coming back to the cottage with her. Would she be able to keep him out?
She was feeling reckless. She was angry at Weston, the Witch Doctor, and even Harrison, feeling betrayed by these immortals who played with human lives. They had affected the course of her life. If she would even have had a life without them in the first place. If Corvin had all of the Witch Doctor’s powers, then she wouldn’t be able to withstand him anyway, so what was the point of planning every move? If she lost her powers, then maybe she would live a normal life. Maybe she would be able to be a normal person who didn’t have to face all of the hardships that had dogged her for her whole life.
Fine. Seven o’clock?
He texted her back a smiley face. Reg was slightly disconcerted. She was used to most of the witches and warlocks she knew eschewing technology, at least to some extent, living as if they had been born a couple of centuries before. She wouldn’t even have predicted that Corvin knew how to make a smiley.
She put her phone back down and sat down.
Her heart was pumping hard as if she’d been running. Starlight had been snoozing on the couch next to her. He raised his head and looked at her reproachfully, as if he knew what she had just done. Reg rubbed her nose. “It was going to happen sooner or later anyway,” she told him irritably. “I just don’t feel like fighting anymore.”
She had the rest of the afternoon and early evening to feel guilty and unsettled, but at the same time, pumped up and excited. She felt like she was doing something proactive instead of just sitting around waiting for magical forces to control her life. She had made at least one decision for herself.
She had no idea how formal the Harbor Port of Call was. She assumed that if it were very formal, Corvin would have told her. She could ask Sarah, but that would mean telling her that she had a date with the warlock she was not supposed to be going out with. It was almost certain to end in disaster.
One of her skirts should do just fine. If it wasn’t fancy enough, Corvin could deal with it. They could go to The Crystal Bowl instead.
When seven o’clock finally rolled around, Reg was ready to go. Far from deciding to jam out on Corvin after all, she was eager to get on with it. It was perhaps the stupidest thing she had ever knowingly done in her life, but she felt there was no other way to move forward. She was looking at her phone to check the time when the text from Corvin came in.
I’m here. Coming around to your door and assuming you don’t have plans to shoot me.
Reg grinned. That wasn’t a bad idea—one way to get rid of him once and for all. Though with the powers he had acquired from the Witch Doctor, she wasn’t sure a bullet would be enough to kill him. His ability to heal Damon had been impressive. If he could bring the same powers to bear on his own injuries, it was going to take a lot more than a bullet to kill him.
Come at your own risk, she texted back.
In a couple of minutes, she heard his footsteps on the path and got up. When he reached her door, she opened it. She was all ready to go. She didn’t invite him in, but stepped out and pulled the door shut behind her.
Corvin looked down at her, his dark eyes gleaming. “I wasn’t expecting this.”
“I know. I… wasn’t either. But I had to get out and I… want to do something. Not just sit around waiting for something to happen to me.”
“That’s fine with me.”
He touched her arm to escort her to the front of the big house, and Reg thrilled at the buzz like an electrical shock that ran all the way up her arm in a shiver. Corvin smiled. “You are indeed reckless tonight.”
Reg nodded. Corvin walked with her out to his car. The big black one, not the little white compact she usually saw him in. Dates dictated the bigger car. He opened and held the door for her. The paint on the vehicle was glistening, looking like it had been hand-detailed, and the interior was freshly shampooed and vacuumed, in pristine condition. Reg slid into her seat and Corvin shut the door gently.
“Have you been to the Port of Call before?” he asked after getting into the driver’s seat.
“No. I wasn’t sure what kind of a place to expect.” Reg appraised Corvin’s dress. Dark slacks and black silk shirt with a cloak over the top. “I’m not underdressed?”
He shook his head and pulled the car out into the street. “No, you’re just right. As usual.”
Reg rolled her eyes at the comment.
“I take it you didn’t talk to Sarah about it.”
“No, certainly not. I didn’t need a lecture.”
“Well, I’m delighted you changed your mind. Can I ask… why? I know you said that you wanted to do something; I’m just wondering if something happened to prompt that.”
“We’ll talk about it over supper. I want to pick your brain.”
“That seems only fair.”
Reg watched out the window, not wanting to look at him. Since capturing the draugrs, she had not seen any more black cats roaming around Black Sands, but she still kept her eyes open, just in case. Maybe the Witch Doctor had created more and Reg hadn’t detected them all. Or perhaps he had an apprentice who knew how to do it. Or he could still operate on some level since the kattakyns were still all together.