Grave Dance (Alex Craft, #2)(91)

“Typical y,” he said, but didn’t expound on the answer.

I frowned at his profile. I admittedly didn’t know enough about fae, but it real y irritated me that people kept breaking the rules I had heard. I noticed he also didn’t tel me which court he belonged to—which theoretical y, I also belonged

to. Except Faerie acknowledges me as

unaligned. I knew the fae inside Faerie were born into courts. They could change, but initial y they belonged to the same court as their parents. So did Faerie not realize I was his daughter? Is he that deep in hiding?

“Does your court know where you are?”

“Alexis, I do believe that is the most intel igent question you’ve asked al night.”

“I’l take that as a ‘no.’”

I was surprised when that statement earned a smile, and not the one he gave to voters, but a grin that made his hidden fae face look mischievous. “Very good, Alexis.”

Deep hiding it is. “So how do I hide what I am?” “Right now? You don’t. Your fae mien is undergoing a kind of metamorphosis.”

Great. I guess I should be happy I hadn’t woken as a cockroach.

“Tel me, Alexis, did you inherit in Faerie?”

The question switched gears so fast it caught me off guard. “Should I have?”

“It is a simple enough question. You destroyed the body thief. Did you inherit his holdings?”

I stared straight ahead, not making a sound. After a couple of moments, my father chuckled under his breath.

“You have final y learned the value of silence.” He

“You have final y learned the value of silence.” He sounded strangely pleased by that fact. “Now I must decide if I know you wel enough to decipher your silence. Perhaps you are silent because you are so uncomfortable with your fae nature that you do not wish to admit it. Or perhaps you didn’t inherit and you stil possess the desire to earn paternal approval so you do not wish to tel me. Or perhaps you simply do not trust me.”

That almost got a reaction from me. Almost. I did not seek George Caine’s approval. But I managed to keep my face completely clear as I stared out the window at the world flying past. We were in a part of the city I didn’t venture to often. You can’t have a truly old portion of town with a city that has existed for only fifty or so years, but we were now in what was left of the original norm homes built after the space unfolded.

“What are we doing here?”

“I am here to drop you off. You are here to get some rest.”

He turned onto a street fil ed with narrow, one-story houses built so close together you could reach out your window and touch your neighbor’s flower box. The whole neighborhood was in need of a refresh-and-repair charm—

or at least some paint. My grave-sight didn’t even make the houses look that much worse than reality. We turned into the driveway of a dingy gray house, and my father cut the engine.

A Porsche is really going to stand out in this neighborhood. I could imagine the neighbors looking out windows, but when I climbed out of the car, I found myself staring at a double image. A Porsche was underneath, but a boxy monstrosity with two different colors of dul paint was what the rest of the world was seeing. Glamour. When did he do that?

I looked up and found myself staring at a stranger. I was no longer with the governor of Nekros, but an older man in his mid-seventies with a bent back and a limp as he walked. Of course, under that image was the fae. My mouth walked. Of course, under that image was the fae. My mouth went dry. How did I know this fae even real y was my father?

Actual y, I did know he was. He acted just like him. But stil , it was creepy to see him turn into someone different.

“Don’t dawdle,” he said, limping his way up the drive to the front door.

I wonder if he changed what I look like, too?

I expected him to drop the glamour once the door closed behind us, but he remained an old man. “Here is a key in case you decide to leave—though I don’t suggest that course of action. The wards on the house wil prevent tracking spel s from locating you as long as you are inside.

I’l stop by in the next few days to check on you. In the meantime, I have a brownie who tends the house. He’l provide you with anything you need.” He stopped and turned his head toward the back of the house. It was built shotgun style, the front door leading to the kitchen, then a combo den/living room, then a hal with a couple of doors along the wal s and a back door at the end exactly paral el to the front door. “You heard that, Osier—whatever she needs.”

No response came from the old house, but that didn’t seem to surprise or upset him. He turned back to me, and I looked around the kitchen. Al the appliances looked like they’d been new in the same decade as the now decrepit house.

“Have you owned this house al these years?” I knew from the face he hid that my father had once gone by the name Greggory Delane, and had been the governor of Nekros back when it was first named a state. He’d been openly fae then, one of Nekros’s few fae governors. Fifty years later he was part of the Humans First Party—the thorn in the side of witches and fae everywhere. Go figure.

My father shrugged. “On paper? No. I’l check in on you.”

The ancient hinges of the front door squealed as he let himself out. I caught the door before it could close.