By the time we reached Eternity Road, I could barely hold my head up and the bandage at my throat was spotted with blood.
Talbot and his father lived in the other apartment above the pawnshop. Instead of going to his place across the hall, Talbot followed me home.
“I don’t need a babysitter,” I said.
But he was stubborn. “I’m not leaving you alone,” he said. “You almost died.”
I reached into the fridge for a couple of beers. “Suit yourself.”
I tried to hand him a bottle, but he waved it away. “One of us should stay sober.”
I was halfway through my first beer when there was a knock at the door. I reached for my athame.
“Who is it?” Talbot called out.
“It’s Doc.”
Talbot and I stared at each other. Doc, the mysterious man with the scarred face. He was the last person I expected. Talbot let him in and Doc skittered his way into my apartment.
It was summer, but he still wore his ratty trench coat. Doc spent a lot of time on the streets and the coat looked like he often used it as a blanket.
“How’s the patient?” Doc asked.
“As much of a pain in the ass as always,” Talbot said, but there was affection in his voice.
“He should be in bed,” Doc scolded.
“Will you two quit talking about me like I’m not even here?”
“You’ll never heal if you drink yourself silly,” he scolded.
I studied him. There was a little more salt and less pepper to his graying hair than when I first met him. The left side of his face was scarred, but he was still handsome. I didn’t see a resemblance. Deci had told me Doc was my father, right before I killed her, but it was possible she had lied. It was also possible she’d told me the truth.
“Doc, we need to talk.” I had a few hundred questions for him, but I’d settle for learning the most important one.
Talbot took a look at my face. “I just remembered, I need to ask my dad… something.” He left, but I was sure he’d be back to check on me.
Doc shifted uneasily, but stayed put.
“Are you a necromancer?”
Long pause. “Yes.”
“Are you the one who called me back from death?”
Another one. “Yes.”
“Are you my father?” I asked.
Long, uncomfortable pause this time. He looked at the door like he wanted to leap through it, but settled for the jittery tapping of his foot that was his constant habit.
“If you have to think about it, then I guess the answer is no.” Silence. “It isn’t a no?”
“Not much of a father, am I?”
“Honestly, no. At first, I thought Ambrose might be my father, but then I realized he was too decent to abandon us.” My mother’s words rang in my brain: “Please do not have any illusions about that man. Believe me, he would kill us as soon as help us.”
“You hoped it was Ambrose,” Doc said softly.
He was right. “Yes.”
“You had no suspicion I was your father?”
“Hell, no,” I answered him.
“I had no intention of ever telling you,” he replied.
“What changed your mind?”
“Your eyes,” he said. “They’re just like hers.”
“I know.”
“I had Fortune’s favor,” Doc said. “And I threw it away.” His habitual agitation grew worse. He touched his scarred cheek repeatedly as he stared at the door. He was going to bolt.
It was hard to believe we shared the same blood. The thought reminded me of something. Wren had taken some of my blood after she cut my throat.
“Any reason Hecate would want my blood?”
His gaze sharpened. “Why do you ask?”
“I just remembered that she had Danvers collect my blood after Wren… after Wren slit my throat.”
He frowned. “There is magic in your blood,” he said. “Stronger than most. You need to be careful.”
“You missed my childhood by a few hundred years,” I snapped. “So quit treating me like a child.”
“Then quit acting like one.”
Something in his face made me take a deep breath. My father was skittish at the best of times, and this was definitely not one of those times. He’d clam up if I pushed too hard. “I’m sorry. I spent the night burying Hecate’s latest victims,” I said.
“Death takes a toll on your soul,” he replied.
“Isn’t that what being a necromancer is all about? Death?”
“Exactly,” he said.
I went to the fridge and grabbed another beer. When I turned around, he was gone.
“I wish he’d quit doing that,” I muttered.
Talbot opened my front door a few minutes after Doc left. “Is it safe to come in?” he asked from the doorway.
“He’s gone,” I said.
“That’s not what I meant.”
“I know,” I said. “Want a beer?”
“Nyx, it’s breakfast time.”
“Breakfast of champions.” At his prissy look, I added, “I could use the company.”
We sat in the living room in silence for a few minutes, until the entire conversation I’d had with Doc poured out of me.
“That’s rough,” Talbot said when I finished. “Do you think Dad knew that Doc is your dad?”
“Yes.” Ambrose was Doc’s only friend.
“He is just chock-full of secrets,” Talbot said, but he didn’t elaborate and I didn’t ask.
I didn’t want to talk about my deadbeat dad any longer. “The Book of Fates is missing.”
“Maybe the Fates took it,” he said.
“It’s a possibility,” I replied. “They weren’t thrilled with the idea of me being the keeper of all the secrets, anyway.”
My head ached. Talbot was bug-eyed from lack of sleep. We were both too tired to think clearly.
“We should try to catch a few hours of sleep,” I said. I tossed him a blanket and retreated to my room.
I looked for the Book of Fates. It was supposed to hold all my aunts’ secrets, but it was gone.
The Book of Fates was the Custos’s responsibility. Deci had passed the title on to me when she died, but what happened when I died? I’d only been dead for a little while and I hadn’t transferred the book like Deci had transferred it to me.
Had Wren taken the Book of Fates, too? Or did Morta take it back into her icy bosom? I hadn’t wanted to be the Custos, but a peek at how they’d trapped Hecate would have been useful right now. She’d kill more people, unless I found a way to stop her.
I couldn’t sleep. The faces of the people I’d buried wouldn’t let me.