End Game (The Foundling Series) Page 16

  Trust flowed both ways. I had tied myself into knots as a kid to earn Dad’s approval, and it still meant the world to me when he gave it. We had to hope Phoebe shared similar values and craved parental approval enough to obey orders.

  We rejoined the others in Santiago’s spacious suite, and they all made a point of not looking at us.

  In my experience, that was never a good sign.

  “Fess up.” I stopped in the middle of the room. “What happened after we left?” I noticed who was missing, and my heart flung itself against my ribs. Pretty sure a few got cracked in the process. “Is Thom … ?”

  “He’s fine.” Mags rushed to comfort me. “Phoebe just kind of … well … exploded.”

  “Exploded?” The strength sapped out of my knees, and they wobbled. “Where is she?”

  “Phoebe hit a growth spurt,” Miller clarified before I had a full-on heart attack. “She’s fine, she was just disoriented. Thom took her back to Cole’s room to lie down.”

  “Okay.” I sank onto the couch until my legs quit wobbling like Jell-O. “Cole?”

  “I did warn you Convallarian children experience rapid growth spurts.”

  The tone was calm, but the look on his face? In his mind, he had already rushed across the hall and scooped her up in his arms to do a thorough examination. Meanwhile, I was still trying to recover from the exploded comment and the mental picture it supplied.

  “Will she be okay?” The conversation we had with Santiago on the roof still applied, but a bigger Phoebe would be even more difficult to contain. “Miller mentioned disorientation.”

  “Children adapt to their new size within a few hours. Their minds make similar jumps.” He reached out to me, rested his hand on my forearm. “She won’t be the same as when we left her.”

  Swallowing hard, I nodded and stood, unable to put off checking on her myself.

  From across the hall, Thom’s voice carried. That was a comfort. Or it would have been had a softer voice not answered him too quietly for my ears to pick out the individual words. Cooing or babbling, okay. But this was a conversation. They were chatting. With words. Actual sentences.

  Years of development had sped past while we were on coterie business, and there was no turning back the hands of time. This must be how parents felt when they picked their bundle of joy up from daycare and found out they’d missed its first steps. Drop off a baby, pick up a toddler.

  Fumbling for Cole, I leaned against him, and he wrapped a steadying arm around me. “She shifted.”

  “She’s older, stronger.” He kissed my temple. “She’s integrated into the coterie and trusts us to protect her. Enough she’s willing to assume a more vulnerable form.”

  “This will be like meeting her all over again.” I folded my hands together, wary like the knob was a snake ready to strike. “I’m not sure I can —”

  The door swung open, and I was out of time to waffle. The baby dragon was gone. In her place stood …

  “Hi, Mom.”

  The hotel mattress was comfy, but I couldn’t figure out when or why I had climbed into bed alone.

  “Cole?” I sat upright, puzzled to find I still wore my clothes and shoes. “Thom?”

  After I swung my legs over the side of the bed, I experienced a dizzying moment of vertigo as the reason for my nap crystalized into being before me.

  “Are you going to faint again?”

  Seated in a chair across from me, Phoebe had definitely experienced a growth spurt.

  She had also chosen her human form, and it shocked me to my core to sit there looking at a mirror image of myself from ten years ago. She resembled fifteen-year-old me so perfectly I had no doubt she had memorized one of my pictures from a photo album Dad must have shown her and copied me down to the mole in my right eyebrow.

  For a person who had spent her life avoiding mirrors, photos, and reflections, I had trouble holding her gaze. My eyes kept wanting to slide away, find somewhere else to focus. I had to force them back to her or risk hurting her feelings. What she had done … it was a huge honor. Dad would have a cow. Hell, he would have a herd.

  “Maybe.” I swallowed to wet my throat. “I didn’t expect … ”

  “You’re my mom.” A snort escaped her, evidence of her dry humor. “How did you think I would look?”

  “The last time I … ” I gestured to her. “You were a toddler. I —” I had to give myself a break, to study her clothes like I cared what she wore other than, you know, my face, or else the thoughts drained right out of my head. “I expected you to snap back into a little kid. This is not … ”

  Phoebe crossed to me slowly and hit her knees on the carpet in front of me. She rubbed my arms until I awarded her my full attention, her eyes — which I hadn’t noticed were the same meltwater blue as Cole’s — held understanding beyond her years.

  “It’s okay,” she soothed. “I’m still your little girl.”

  “Come here, you.” Tears sprung to my eyes. “Of course you’re still my little girl.” I gathered her against me in a hug that drove home how much she had changed in so short a time. “I just didn’t realize how big my little girl had gotten.”

  “I used to dream about you.” Her slender arms wound around my waist, and she burrowed against my chest. “When I was in the pod.”

  She meant during her time with Death, when my sister had kept her in stasis to protect her from the cadre. Phoebe had slept away the centuries, safe from her other aunts … and her mother.

  “You mean Conquest,” I said, shocked at how much it stung.

  “No.” Withdrawing, she sank onto the floor into a lotus position with her hands folded in her lap. “I don’t remember much about her. I was only a few weeks old when Death placed me in the pod.”

  A human child would remember nothing from such a young age, but she was a charun on steroids. The toddler I recalled so vividly … was weeks old? She had been a freaking infant by human standards.

  “I wasn’t awake, exactly. I wasn’t asleep, either.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “I made up stories in my head about my mom. I pretended she was a superhero and that a supervillain had kidnapped me.” She laughed softly. “I didn’t know those words until Uncle Rixton got me hooked on cartoons, but it fits.” She flicked her gaze up to me. “All I thought about was the day my mom would come to save me.”

  “I can see how you might mistake Death for a supervillain.” I rubbed her shoulder. “But she took care of you when we couldn’t, and for that we owe her a lot.”

  All that time, she and Janardan had risked their lives for a potential payoff. There were no guarantees our cadre would reach Earth, let alone that I would be in a position to honor the bargain Cole had struck. I might be a wild card this ascension, but Death possessed more empathy than all the others combined. As much as I wanted to pin all the credit — fine, the blame — on Wu, I wondered if Death wasn’t more than a caricature too. And then there was Sariah, so eager to claim her mother’s title.

  For a repetitive loop, nothing about this cycle struck me as normal. Wu could hardly pat himself on the back for all of it.

  “Oh, I know.” She covered my hand with hers. “Just like I knew the day you came for me at Haven that you were the mother I had been picturing in my head.”

  “Does this mean you’ll listen if I tell you to go stay with your grandfather? He would love to meet you.”

  “He already has,” she pointed out, quick to use her newfound voice and logic against me. “And no, I’m not leaving you.” A smile hooked up one side of her mouth, warmer and more natural than any I had managed at her age. “I would rather stand beside you and Dad on the battlefield than cower in the dark until Ezra finds me.”

  “Are all charun kids this brave?” I couldn’t stop the tears. I was a regular leaky faucet lately. “Or did we get lucky?”

  Proving she had also mastered the art of sucking up, she grinned. “I had great role models.”

  The reminder had me searching the room a secon
d time. “Where is your dad?”

  “Waiting in the hall.” She jumped up and yanked tissues from the complimentary box and passed them to me. “We could tell you were coming around, so I asked if I could talk to you alone first.”

  “Do you mind if we bring him in?” I dabbed my cheeks and blew my nose. “I want him to be here for this conversation.”

  Allowing Phoebe to join us on Hart Island when she was a slip of a dragon with a child’s comprehension was one thing. She was a teen now, or resembled one. She sounded older. The knowledge in her eyes put me in mind of a contemporary. Maybe she had chosen to appear younger to give me time to process her sudden physical maturation.

  “Sure thing.” She dashed over to let him in, and he couldn’t take his eyes off her. “She’s asking for you.”

  With his hearing being what it was, he would have already overheard. I was, however, pleasantly surprised to find how well-mannered she had turned out. I would definitely be patting myself on the back right now if I wasn’t doing my best to keep my brains from leaking out of my ears.

  Human minds weren’t meant for this. They weren’t elastic enough. Mine, apparently, was more human than any of us anticipated, thanks to Wu turning me into his personal science experiment. I heard things, saw them, and I understood. I told myself I accepted them. But all the while, that nagging scream that began the night I learned my true identity kept droning on and on and on.

  How long before it finally shut the hell up? I didn’t have time to cope. My brain knew this. Why couldn’t it put a cap on the wailing already? It wasn’t like I needed the reminder my world was shot straight to hell. I was the one loading the bullets, itching to take aim and claim the first kill.

  I wanted this over, for life to return to some semblance of normal, and … oh.

  Yeah.

  Hmm.

  Maybe that’s why that most human part of me hadn’t shut her yap. People tended to not want to die, and I was no exception. The only way I was getting through this was to pretend this ended with a happily ever after. There was no fooling myself, though. No wonder it kept right on wailing.

  Lying to my loved ones hurt. Looking ahead to their future without me in it hurt. Listening to them make plans, me faking my contributions, hurt worst of all.

  But they’ll be alive.

  That was what mattered.

  That was the only thing that mattered.

  “Before you guys start in on the reasons why I shouldn’t be allowed to go with you,” Phoebe began in a rehearsed tone, “there’s something I ought to show you.”

  “Okay.” Fists clenched in the sheets, I braced myself. “Let’s see it.”

  “We’ll need to go up to the roof.” She bounded through the door and down the hall ahead of us. “Catch up, slowpokes.”

  Typical teen, she didn’t wait on her lame parents but rode up alone.

  “Can you honestly tell me this doesn’t freak you the hell out? Come on, at least a little?” I checked with Cole. “She was cooing and trilling this morning. Now she’s formulating arguments against us sending her to my dad. She’s articulating all the reasons why she belongs with us on Hart Island.”

  “I’ll admit, it’s jarring.” He took my hand, interlaced his fingers with mine, and led me to the elevator. “Even knowing this is the order of things, it’s been a long time since I witnessed it firsthand.” He cut me a glance. “And never with my own child.”

  “I keep thinking Kapoor had it right.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “He saw a therapist regularly.”

  “I’ll schedule you an appointment myself, as soon as this is all over.”

  When this ended, I wouldn’t need to see a shrink. I would be at peace, one way or another.

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  I had a vague idea of what Phoebe wanted to show us, but I wasn’t prepared for the reality of it. One minute a teenage mini-me stood there, and the next an adolescent dragon more than half the size of mine had taken her place.

  “Man up,” I grumbled at my wobbly knees. “What good are you?”

  An inquisitive noise rumbled up the back of her elegant throat.

  “You’ve broken my knees,” I explained. “I might have to have replacement surgery before Hart Island.”

  Now she laughed, a sound that left her father grinning. Seriously, the man was so proud he could pop.

  “I get that you’re trying to show me you’re bigger and stronger,” I said gently, “and therefore a greater asset, but at the end of the day, you’re still our kid.”

  Cole crossed to Phoebe and stroked her muscular shoulder, admiring her frilly mane and scratching behind her wings. He didn’t say he was on her side. He wasn’t going to call me out in front of her, remind me my human ideals had no place here, and I liked that. Having been raised by a single father, it was pretty cool to see this co-parenting thing at work. But he had physically taken her side, whether he realized it or not, and I was well aware it was a losing battle.

  Be true to yourself was the advice everyone kept parroting at me. Their belief that my unique outlook was the key to our success meant accepting I wasn’t the Conquest they had come to know and loathe, but my own person. I was myself, and that was what I brought to the table. Fresh perspective, heart, and the determination to protect at any cost. Given my current situation was a testament to the power of the individual contribution, I didn’t have a leg to stand on.

  Phoebe wasn’t human. I couldn’t shove her into that box and expect her to stay there. She had already proven time and time again she would burst out of it the second my back turned. Putting a lid on her wasn’t slowing her down. It was forcing me to run out of lids. Or, in this case, excuses.

  “I won’t lie and say I’m happy about this,” I told them both then singled her out for the rest. “I’m human enough to want to hide you away to keep you safe, but I’m charun enough to accept your instincts run counter to mine.” Her tab ears perked. “If you want in, and it’s okay with your dad, you’re in.”

  Barreling past Cole, she ran at me, trading shape seconds before I experienced how it felt when a runaway train smacked into you head-on. The impact of a teen girl was more survivable, but still enough to leave bruises when she wrapped me in a hug that toppled us both onto the roof tiles.

  “This seems oddly familiar.” I tickled her until she rolled off me. “What is it with you tackling people?”

  At least this time she didn’t pee on me. There really was a silver lining to every situation, no matter how painful.

  “Not people.” She scooched closer and rested her head on my shoulder. “Just you.”

  I wasn’t lying when I said, “Lucky me.”

  *

  Now that I had survived my psychologically traumatic reintroduction to Phoebe, it was time to gather the coterie and figure out our next steps. I’ll admit, I snickered at the expression wreathing Maggie’s face when she saw Phoebe and me side by side for the first time. It’s a good thing she was sitting. Otherwise, she might have fallen down.

  “It’s uncanny,” she said to Phoebe on a laugh. “You look exactly how I remember Luce at that age.”

  “You could have chosen anyone to mimic?” Rixton slumped forward on the couch, dejected. “I always wanted a twin. Can you imagine the fun we could have had? Talk about your missed opportunities. I’m much more attractive than Luce and at least five times as awesome. Seriously, I have references. How could you choose her over me?”

  “She’s a girl,” I pointed out then covered Phoebe’s ears. “Do you really want her to be an exact copy of you?”

  Eyes widening, he formed an oh with his lips. There I was, thinking I had brought the point home, but no.

  “Are you saying I could have made requests?” He stared at his crotch. “I have ideas. Big ones.”

  “Ugh.” I curled my lip. “Men are so predictable.”

  “Can you imagine?” Wonder shone in his eyes when he raised them to mine. “I could be a modern
-day Mercury with wings on my ankles. How cool would that be? Do you think it would work? How much of a dragon’s wingspan is responsible for keeping it afloat versus magic? Would I have cute little wings like on the cartoons, or would I trip over them because they were so long?”

  Leave it to Rixton to break the curve with a unique wish. He had been staring at his feet, not his … um.

  Just saying wings weren’t what I had expected him to be worried about tripping over.

  “Sorry, Uncle Rixton.” Phoebe bumped shoulders with me. “I’m a momma’s girl.”

  “Uncle Rixton,” he repeated, choking up as he soaked it in. “I’m an uncle. I have a niece.”

  Grateful for the distraction, I didn’t further disillusion him by implying Mercury had worn winged sandals, not had actual wings attached to his ankles.

  “I didn’t blubber this much when you named me your kid’s godmother,” I grumbled. “Dry your face, Rixton.”

  “No,” he countered, dropping the pretense. “You acted like you had been sentenced to life without parole.” He snorted. “The first time you held Nettie, you might as well have been walking the last mile on death row. You had that whole bound for the gallows thing happening. It was pretty hilarious, actually.”

  “I had never held a baby,” I argued. “I didn’t know what to do with her.”

  Honestly, I still didn’t know how to handle an infant. Nettie was getting bigger, but she was still tiny. I would rather wait until she was walking to attempt holding her again. Or maybe until she started college. Somewhere in there.

  Stepping in to break us up before Rixton got carried away — even more carried away — Maggie grinned at us. “That makes me Auntie Maggie, right?”

  “That was the plan.” Phoebe returned her smile. “You’re a two for one.”

  The shock of being included melted Maggie into Portia, who clearly hadn’t expected the honor.

  “You’re a good kid, Pheebs.” Portia sniffled. Unlike Rixton, her emotion was genuine. “It’s nice having young blood in the coterie, not to mention another girl. There’s been way too much testosterone for way too long, if you ask me.”