Visions (Cainsville #2)(119)

“No, I don’t think it is.”

I pulled away and walked to Gabriel.





CHAPTER SIXTY-TWO


Hey,” I said as I drew close to Gabriel, fixing on my best everything-is-just-fine smile. “I didn’t expect to see you tonight. Visiting Rose?”

He shook his head. “Waiting for you. Ricky called. He told me about the Miami trip. He was concerned, leaving you alone, with everything that’s happened. I thought it best if I came over and spent the night.”

“He didn’t need—”

“He wasn’t asking me to. He simply mentioned that he wouldn’t be around, and you might need the extra . . .”

“Protection?”

“I was avoiding that particular term. Support. Attention. Given what’s happening with James.” He motioned for me to accompany him back down the path.

“I wouldn’t have been alone. I have my cat. And a security system, a gun, and a switchblade.”

“Switchblade?”

“Ricky carries one. I liked it.”

He shook his head, then said, “Are you telling me to go home or simply pointing out that you’re capable of taking care of yourself?”

“Door number two.” I glanced over at him. “I’m glad you came, though. The cat’s not a very good conversationalist.”

We walked a few more steps, then he said, “Given the shouting, I take it Patrick didn’t confess to the switching of Macy and Ciara.”

“He didn’t, but he confirmed it in every other possible way. We were right about Cainsville. What it is. What he is. What happened with the girls. I know why it happened, too. I’m not ready to go inside yet. Can we walk while I tell you?”

“Certainly.”

—

We passed the apartment and continued down Rowan as I told Gabriel why Ciara and Macy had been switched. I did not tell him that Patrick was his father. Not now. Maybe not ever. What good would it do to know that the whole time he’d been fighting for survival, his father had watched and done nothing?

I did, however, tell him that the Walshes were one of “the” families—the unwitting recipients of fae blood. After I said that, we walked half a block in silence.

“So which part don’t you believe?” I said. “That Cainsville is a refuge for fairies? That they’ve been interbreeding with the human population? Or that your family is part of the breeding stock?” I paused. “And having just heard myself say those three sentences, I should be glad you aren’t suggesting we take a ride to the psych hospital. If we do, though, can you at least find me a place that’s still open? That last one was a bit primitive for long-term residency.”

A few more steps in silence.

“Gabriel?”

“Oh, are you finished? I didn’t want to get in the way of your backpedaling. And don’t give me that look or I will return it in kind. I thought we were past the point of laughing this off. Also past the point of interpreting my thoughtful silence as disbelief.”

“Sorry.”

“I was processing the information. I believe all of it. How could I not? I come from a family with strange gifts. Second sight is the most obvious, but we have other abilities, less obviously supernatural but clearly above normal. Inherent . . . aptitudes for certain iniquitous talents.”

“Like deception? Lying? Betray—”

“I was going to say sleight of hand.”

“Ah.” We turned a corner, and I continued. “So the girl raised as Ciara Conway was a modern-day changeling. Switched at birth to give her a better life.”

“Although, given her recent addiction, it didn’t matter. What’s bred in the bone . . .”

I glanced over and saw the tightness in his face, his gaze fixed ahead while he continued. “As for the murder of Ciara Conway and what it means to you, that part is still a mystery.”

“Is it?” I stopped walking. “Yes. There has to be a motive beyond publicly exposing the switch, which has failed anyway. Who killed her? I don’t care what Tristan says, he was involved. As for what it means to me? A way to reveal the secrets of Cainsville that might make me turn tail and run? I don’t know. I need to find more answers.”

“And you expect to find them here?”

He waved, and I looked over to see where I’d stopped. In front of the Carew house. Gabriel peered at me.

“Ah, not an intentional choice of destination, then,” he said. “Following the signs.”

“I wasn’t—”

“Of course you were. You just didn’t realize it. Come along. We have a house to break into.”

—

Again, there was no need to break in. The rear door was still unlocked.

“Lead on,” Gabriel said as we stood in the kitchen.

“I don’t know where—”

“You followed your instincts here. Keep following them.”

I gazed around the kitchen. The windows were still shuttered, shrouding the room in darkness. I took out my switchblade and flipped on the LED.

“Your new knife has a light?” he said.

“Ricky thought it might come in handy,” I said. “I don’t know where he got that idea.”