A Wind of Change (A Shade of Vampire #17)(5)

All I know is, the sooner I get out of here, the better.

The trouble was, unless I managed to coerce a witch into helping me, it no longer looked like I was going to get the quick escape I’d been hoping for…

Chapter 1: River

I stared at my father through the glass separator. His black, gray-streaked hair hung limply at the sides of his face and his brown eyes looked dim and jaded. His face was speckled with more scabs than I wanted to count. His orange uniform contrasted starkly with his pale complexion and he looked thinner than I’d ever seen him. If I hadn’t known him to be forty-four, I would’ve assumed him to be in his early sixties.

Folds of loose skin gathered on either side of his mouth as he smiled at me, revealing stained teeth. His hand unsteady, he reached for the phone on his side of the window and placed it against his ear.

I picked up the phone on my side.

“River,” he breathed into the receiver, his voice raspy. “Sweetheart, how are you?”

I swallowed back the lump in my throat.

“Okay.”

His eyes roamed either side of me. Then his expression sagged in disappointment.

“Dafne and Lalia… They didn’t come?”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry.”

He sighed heavily, then forced another smile.

“Are you off school now?”

“Yes,” I replied. “We just got off two days ago.”

“I’ve been reading whatever papers I can get a hold of, but one hasn’t come my way the last week. Have there been any more kidnappings?”

“Not that I know of,” I said. “The schools on the West Coast were still closed right up until the holidays started. But nobody seems sure whether the threat has passed or not.”

“Well, let’s hope it has passed.” He paused, wetting his lower lip. “How is your French going?”

“Spanish, Dad.”

“Spanish,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. How’s it going?”

“Okay. I’m still a bit behind compared to the rest of the class. My teacher has given me some extra work to do over the summer.”

“Good,” he replied. “Good. And how are they… my three other cherubs?”

“Okay, too,” I said. “Jamil is the same as ever.”

The corners of my father’s eyes moistened.

I broke eye contact. There was only so long I could look at him before my throat became too tight.

“When are you transferring?” I asked, staring down at the metal counter. “Still this Friday?”

“Still this Friday,” he replied. “Will you come to visit me down south?”

I breathed out. “Texas is a long way, Dad… We don’t have a lot of extra money right now.”

“Oh, I know, honey,” he said quickly. “That’s okay. I’m sure we’ll see each other again sometime soon…” His voice trailed off.

I looked up at the sound of his right hand pressing against the glass. He was leaning closer to look at me, clutching the phone in his left fist.

“I don’t deserve you, Riv,” he whispered, his voice choking up. “I don’t deserve you, Dafne, Lalia, Jamil, or your mother.”

That’s why you lost us.

I’d heard my father say all this before. I felt numb to it now. His expressions of regret and apology had come to mean nothing to me because he never acted on them. When he was still living with us, he’d be remorseful for perhaps a couple of days, then sink back into his habit and we wouldn’t see him for the next month. Although I had been devastated when my mother divorced him, I’d slowly come to realize that she’d done what was best for all of us. My father… this man… he wasn’t good for us. Especially not for my younger sisters. Leaving him was the bravest thing my mother had ever done.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

I wish I could believe you.

I didn’t know how to respond. I still loved him more than I could say, but he’d worn me down over the years, just as he had my mother.

But this was my last visit before his transfer and I had no idea when I’d see him again. I couldn’t stand to end our meeting with bitterness or resentment. He’d made his choices, and the judge had made hers.

So I just bit my lip and nodded.

“I know, Dad.”

As he leaned in toward the window further still, I wished I could touch him. Although he was a ghost of the father I remembered, a wreck of his addiction, I just wanted to feel his arms around me, his kiss against the top of my head.

I reached up to the glass, and flattened my hand against his. We remained silent in this position for several moments before a harsh voice called behind my father.

“Mr. Giovanni. You’ve had your time.”

“Goodbye,” I said softly.

My father didn’t budge.

“I’m sorry, River,” he repeated. “I’m so sorry.”

“Mr. Remo Giovanni.” The guard spoke again, louder this time.

“Go, Dad. We’ll see each other again. Hopefully soon,” I said, even though I held no hope for such a thing. We were struggling just to cover our groceries. A trip across the country wouldn’t be affordable for the foreseeable future.