Complete Me(58)

“She did,” he says. “And we survived him together. In the end, I was better suited at survival than she was. But dammit, Nikki, she was there for me.”

I am nodding, tears trickling down my cheeks. “Alaine, too?”

Damien shakes his head. “He didn’t know anything. I value his friendship, of course. But my relationship with Sofia runs deeper.”

I take his hand and hold it tight. Those tiny green tendrils have completely shriveled up. There is no jealousy. Instead, I am as desperate to find this woman as Damien. This poor girl who shared what little strength she had with Damien, and suffered through her own kind of hell simply from knowing that the blood of a monster flowed through her veins.

“You’ll find her,” I say. “When have you ever not gotten something you want?”

As I had hoped, that draws a small smile to his lips. He pulls me into his arms and holds me tight.

“The trial must have been hell for her,” I say. “Her father. You.” I keep my cheek pressed against his chest as his reply rumbles through me.

“We didn’t talk about it. She didn’t like to think about the fact that Merle Richter was her father. I spoke to her a few hours before you arrived in Germany, actually. I kept expecting her to bring it up. She never did.”

I don’t know what to say next, so I am relieved when Ms. Ives’s voice comes across the intercom, telling Damien that she has Alaine on a video call, and does Damien want her to put it through to the wall screen?

Damien tells her to go ahead, and immediately a decorative mirror on the far side of the room turns opaque, then blue. And then, suddenly, I see Alaine’s face.

“Damien,” he says, “I was so pleased to hear about the dismissal.”

“Thank you. You remember Nikki?”

“Of course. It is a pleasure to see you again, Nikki. Hopefully next time it will be in person with a glass of my best wine.”

“I’d like that.” When I met Alaine, I hadn’t been able to place his accent. Since then, Damien has told me that he grew up in Switzerland. It’s still not an accent I would recognize easily, but listening now, I can hear the influences of both French and German.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t available when you called earlier. Your message said it was about Sofia?”

“She’s gone again,” Damien says. “Checked herself out a few days ago and took off. I haven’t been able to find her, and I thought she might have called you.”

“You are in luck, my friend,” he says. “I know exactly where she is.”

I meet Damien’s eyes and see the flash of relief. “Where?”

“Shanghai.”

“Shanghai?” Incredulity laces his voice. “Why? When did you talk to her?”

Alaine’s brow furrows. “Three, no four, days ago. Do you remember David, that drummer she was intrigued with a few years back? Apparently his band is booked for a week in a club there. She said she might be in Chicago, too, if a job the band is hoping for comes through.”

Damien presses his fingertips to his temple. His expression is an odd mix of softness and concern. It’s a paternal expression, the kind I imagine I’d see if he was worried about our own kids one day.

Our kids? I stiffen, but in surprise, not fear. The thought came unbidden, but it is not terrifying. On the contrary, it’s soothing, as if I’ve been given a sneak peek into the future, and it is a future with Damien and a family.

“She called you?” Damien asks Alaine. “I’ve been trying to reach her by cell, but it just rolls over to voice mail.”