Chapter 30

Chapter

Thirty

Lorelai doesn't elaborate on her enigmatic words as she unlocks her front door to let me inside the entryway, and I'm a little scared to ask her. I hope it means she is telling me to be brave. I find solace in the fact that Lorelai has been kind to me so far. The historic neighborhood hardly looks dangerous. On the surface, I'd say the most dangerous thing would be ghosts since the houses are so old. That's ignorance, though. I know that we must look beyond the surface.

I don't have time to gather my nerve to enter. There is no choice as I walk closely behind her. Tension fills me as we pause for a few seconds in the entryway. I brace myself for something that doesn't happen. Conrad has no clue when I will be showing up at this house. That thought gives me some comfort. He knew everyone would be there at my birthday party. At the apartment he gave me an exact time. Then, with the Turnblads, he texted me on my way in the door. In hindsight, everything should have been so obvious. I just didn't want to see it. I still don't. There remains a tiny voice inside of me praying that I'm wrong, that it's all a conspiracy.

A second interior door leads to a foyer adorned with high ceilings and polished hardwood floors. I slip the backpack off my arm and drop it on the floor. The interior is dimly lit, and the drawn shades cast long shadows across the spacious home. I hesitate to venture further, allowing my eyes to adjust to the low light. The expansive layout opens to a cozy living room boasting floor-to-ceiling bookcases and a charming reading nook. Art easels displaying vibrant canvases compensate for the absence of a table in the dining room. The open staircase beckons, vanishing into the upper levels of the house.

"Water? Coffee? Tea?" she asks.

"Um, water."

The house is quiet. Lorelai moves through the dining room. I follow her and listen to her in the kitchen. My hand strays to the phone in my back pocket. I want to call Paul to tell him I met my birth mother and that she's nothing like I feared. He's the only one I can think of who'd care to hear about it. Of course, I don't. He and Diana are probably having fun with his parents right now. I need him to be in Kansas, safe and out of my insanity.

I miss them.

Dust particles dance in peeks of sunlight coming through the sides of the curtains. Protective charms hang in each window. I see them casting shadows on the blinds. The small sculptures gracing various surfaces would look like arty decorations to the layperson. To me, they appear to be totems. These are all things Conrad had dismissed as useless human magic when we were younger. Charms in the window and oil-anointed candles rarely stopped the really dangerous creatures.

A sideboard with photographs catches my attention. I couldn't see it from the foyer. Moving closer, I realize all the photos are of me throughout my life. The largest, in the center, is Lorelai holding me as a baby. We're in front of a crib with a butterfly mobile, and she's smiling. I see a rocking chair in the room where she described the goblin attack. Around that are other snapshots of us together. There is even one with the back of my father's head. From there, I grow up slowly, my age progressing as my gaze moves outward from the center vortex of baby pictures. An ancient bowl holds salt next to them as if this is an altar, and she's trying to keep me safe.

I draw in a shaky breath. My mother looks so happy holding her baby. Her smile is bright and full of life. She's been doing everything she could to protect me—the salt, the amulet, living in banishment from my side of the country. It dawns on me that all this time, there has been someone out in the world filled with concern and love for me. The revelation strikes me hard, and I press my hand to my chest. I never suspected.

There is not one picture of Astrid holding me like that, with that love emoting from her face. This house could have been my house. This life could have been my childhood.

"A shrine is no replacement for the real thing." Lorelai comes up behind me. I didn't hear her footsteps. She hands me a glass of ice water. "But it's all I had."

I hold the glass, not really wanting it.

"May I…?" Lorelai lifts her arms slowly like she's trying to corner a feral cat about to dart past her. I don't move. She leans into me, arms moving around my shoulders as she pulls me into her hug. Her breath catches in her throat, and she trembles. "It's been so long. I can't believe you're here with me."

I lean my head into the embrace, still holding the glass. When she pulls back, her eyes are wet with unshed tears.

She again takes my face in her hands. In this light, it strikes me that we have the same shade of hazel eyes. I couldn't tell earlier in the car. We're also the same height.

"Know, whatever happens, I love you," she says.

"I…" The words are difficult to get out. Emotion overwhelms me, and I can't speak.

She pats my face. "I know. I know. A mother knows. You should drink your water. It's easy to get dehydrated here."

I try again. "I?—"

A loud thump sounds overhead.

I instantly set the glass on the sideboard and put myself between the stairs and Lorelai to shield her. I stare at the ceiling. "Is someone here?"

Another loud thump-thump answers my question.

"Hide," I order as I move toward the foyer to go upstairs. I touch my amulet for support.

Lorelai grabs my arms to stop me. "This is what I have been working my way to tell you."

The thumps come angry and fast.

"Now, don't freak out," she soothes. "After I got your message, this man showed up asking if I was your mother. It was too coincidental. Nobody here knows your name. All my friends think those pictures are of my second cousin living in Europe. It allows me to disappear on your birthday and holidays to be alone. They think I'm over there."

Thump. Thump-thump-thump.

"This guy seems way too interested in getting information. He's human, but there is something off about him. He kept evading my questions, so I drugged his tea." She glances upward. "It sounds like it's wearing off."

Conrad's here? Mabon believed my brother was in California. Or did he send someone?

"Did he bring anything with him? Was he alone in the house at any time?" I ask.

"He didn't have time to plant a bomb if that's what you're worried about," she answers.

Of course, that's what I am thinking. My brother apparently likes to blow shit up while trying to pin it on me. The cops probably think I'm a serial arsonist.

"He didn't even carry a wallet, just some cash in his pocket," she continues. "Who doesn't keep an ID or phone on them? Contract killers and kidnappers, right?"

If I hadn't survived what I did over the last few weeks, I would have thought she sounded unwell. "So you kidnapped a kidnapper? What are we supposed to do with him? Torture him for information?"

Lorelai's expression says she's not opposed to the idea.

None of this is good. I don't torture people, at least not on purpose. Conrad once told me that my singing makes siren's ears bleed. I guess I could…sing at them?

"He comes after you then he deserves what he gets." Lorelai uses her hold on my arm to force her way past me. As she takes the stairs, she says, "I'm sorry I made you an accessory to kidnapping. If this goes wrong, I'll take the blame."

I don't ask what she means by goes wrong. I feel like everything in my life has been going wrong.

I know it's best if it's Conrad. Then I'll know where he is and be able to ask him whatever I want. Let the lawyers get me out of detaining an arsonist. That sounds a lot better than being the arsonist.

Yet, a part of me hopes it's not Conrad. I'm terrified of confronting my brother. I'm not ready for it. My emotions have been on a rollercoaster ride through a dark tunnel called denial, and I haven't had time for self-care to get my head screwed on straight.

Can any amount of self-care make me accept what Conrad is doing?

"I didn't know what we were dealing with," Lorelai continues in a whisper as we tiptoe to the second floor. "I didn't know what questions to ask, and I didn't think texting you that I just drugged a stranger was a great course of action. Digital trails and all that CSI stuff."

That is why she wanted me to take the flight and get here sooner.

Hopefully, it wasn't the only reason.

The stairs creak and give away our ascent. I'm not sure why we're trying to sneak up on a guy who's supposedly detained. I'm beginning to believe I inherited my criminal abilities from my birth mother. Masterminds, we are not.

"This is where you come in." Lorelai pauses as we reach the top and turns to rub my arm in reassurance. I hear the thumping coming from one of the closed doors off the landing. "You'll know what questions we need to ask. Then, we can figure out what needs to happen."

What needs to happen?

What the fuck have I gotten into?

In my mind, I hear a hypothetical stranger asking, How was it meeting your birth mother for the first time?

To which my sarcastic brain responds, Oh, we had a lovely visit. We discussed family trauma, managed to avoid a speeding ticket, worried about dying in an explosion, and then kidnapped and tortured my murderous brother together. You know, normal bonding, nothing special.

Fuck me.

"Hey." Lorelai gives my shoulder a firm tap. "You here with me? If you can't do this…"

"I'm here. I can do it." I have to confront my brother at some point, and sooner is better than later. I can't keep going on like this. "Let's get it over with."

My heart thunders in my chest, and I feel it threatening to explode. Fear sends shivers down my spine. I clutch my enchanted amulet, feeling the comforting weight in my hand as I stare ominously at the closed door. I know whatever lurks behind it cannot bring about my physical demise, but life has recently taught me all too well that there are things worse than death.

I hear the echoes of the past swirling in my thoughts. Desperately, I try to banish the memories of my childhood haunting me, the ones that bind me to Conrad and fill me with an overwhelming sense of betrayal.

Please don't make me do this.

I'm breathing heavily and don't want to face the truth. Each step closer tightens the invisible grip on my chest.

Please let me go back to the way things were, to ignorance and innocence. Let me rewind time and fix this—fix that broken piece in my brother that would have caused him to become so dark and twisted.

Lorelai reaches for the door handle. I want to stop her, but I don't.

The door groans open on its hinges, and the sound of struggling instantly stops.

A small end table, cluttered with totems and sculptures, stands between the door and a headboard. The shades are drawn in the guest room, keeping it shadowed. Yellow wallpaper, frilly bedspreads, and antique furniture hardly set the scene for a kidnapping scenario. There is an abstract painting of an evil eye as if to summon protection from harmful spirits.

A sturdy wooden chair with a tall back is securely fastened to the bedpost at the foot of the bed. The man sitting on the chair has his back to me, and the bed obstructs my view. A floral pillowcase drapes over his head to conceal his identity. Our prisoner jerks against his restraints. The rocking causes the loud thumping noises that had reverberated through the downstairs. His hands appear firmly bound at his sides, rendering him immobile.

"Don't worry, he can't escape." Lorelai moves to stand in front of him. She puts her hands on her hips. I see the determined set of her mouth. She's trying hard to look in control. "He can't hurt you."

The man issues an angry, muffled response.

I step along the side of the bed to get a better look at him. On the floor near his feet, Ogham Stones inscribed with traditional Celtic runes are placed in a circle around him. They're meant to trap people within their boundaries. Lorelai doesn't take any chances when seeking to protect her home, and she's clearly influenced by several cultures.

The man grumbles again. I can't understand his words.

I find it hard to catch my breath. As I round the foot of the bed, I realize immediately by the breadth of his shoulder that this isn't my brother. Pink unicorn duct tape wraps his chest and waist to keep him seated. My eyes are drawn to the wrist restrained to the arm of the chair with matching duct tape. He jerks violently, trying to free them.

I gasp in shock. I know those hands. I love those hands.

"Paul?" I rush toward him and jerk the pillowcase off his head.

He blinks heavily and shakes his head, butting it forward like he's going to fight. I cup his face to make him look at me. The pink unicorn duct tape is over his mouth.

"You recognize him?" Lorelai asks.

"Paul, what are you doing here?" I start to peel the tape. It's sticky, and my attempt looks painful, so I stop. "Is Diana with you?"

He shakes his head in denial.

"Is she with your parents? She's safe?"

He nods.

"You're sure?"

He nods again.

I sigh in relief.

"I'll take that as a yes," Lorelai answers her own question.

"Yes," I tell her belatedly. "Paul is a friend. Get some scissors. Help me cut him free."

Lorelai hesitates.

"He knows this is a misunderstanding. He won't hurt us." This is one thing, maybe the only thing I know for a fact anymore.

"I'll be right back." Lorelai leaves.

I stroke the hair back from his face and whisper to him, "I'm sorry."

Paul looks upset, rightfully so. I feel bad. Lorelai did drug him and duct tape him to a chair. He'd probably been sitting here for hours.

"I hate that you're here, but I'm so happy to see you. That's my birth mother. We just met about an hour ago. I never told her about you. She thought Conrad sent you to hurt us." I want to make him understand why this is happening. "You were right about my brother. I didn't want to see it, but… Some things have happened since I left you in Kansas City. It's a long story, but I have confirmation that you are right. And not just about Conrad. You were right about my necklace protecting me. I don't know if this makes me immortal forever or what, but it keeps things from killing me."

He tries to tell me something, but the words are muffled.

"Why are you here? How did you even beat me? The last time I saw you, you were on your way to…" I furrow my brow. He can't answer that.

I touch his face. He feels like Paul. Lorelai said he was human. Surely, it's really him and not some magical glamour to trick me.

"Paul?" I search his eyes. They're the same eyes that drew me in from the beginning. I want to trust him.

He mumbles a response. His fingers lift in my direction but can't reach me. His eyes dart to where Lorelai left as if he's trying to warn me.

I follow his gaze only to turn back to him. "I'm sorry. I don't understand what you're saying."

He mumbles again and jerks his head toward the door.

"You think she's dangerous?" I ask, trying to peel the tape again. He winces in pain, and I stop.

He nods frantically.

I hesitate. He was right about Conrad.

"Is this because she drugged your tea?" I can see why he'd be upset about that. I think of the glass of ice water. Had she tried to drug me, too?

No. This is a simple misunderstanding. She thought she was protecting me.

I wanted to trust Conrad, too. Perhaps I'm not the best judge of character.

Lorelai did say she habitually disappears on my birthday and holidays. Was she confessing to being in New York when the fire started? Had I just not caught the slip?

"Are you sure about this?" Lorelai appears with scissors, startling me. "He's a big guy. We're not getting this chance again."

I try to push away the self-doubts, but I don't know who to trust. I try to keep Lorelai in my peripheral as I reach for the pink unicorns over Paul's mouth. "I'm sorry. I'm going to take this off you. It'll hurt. Moan if you want me to stop."

He looks intensely at me. I slowly pull, instantly seeing the strip of irritated flesh it leaves behind. I get to his mouth and try to go slower. Paul jerks his head back and to the side to rip it faster. The end of the tape hangs from his cheek as he takes a deep breath.

"Get me out of this," Paul demands with a small struggle.

"What are you doing here?" I ask. "How did you even find this place?

"You're not exactly Fort Knox when it comes to shielding your phone screen. I saw you staring at it several times," he says. "I've got a good memory."

"But what are you doing here?" I ask again. I see the redness around his lips. I'm tempted to kiss him. I never thought I'd be this close to him again.

He sighs and looks at Lorelai. "Can you untie me? I don't want to talk about this in front of an audience."

I glance back to where Lorelai has moved to stand behind me. Her arms are crossed, and her stance is wide while she stares at us. She grips the scissors in her fist like a weapon. It doesn't look like she intends to move anytime soon. I rearrange my position so I can see both of them.

"Answer her questions first," Lorelai orders.

"Fine," Paul grumbles at our hesitance to cut him free. "I thought if I could just make myself drive away from you, the hardest part would be over. I knew I'd made a mistake the second you were out of sight. I booked a flight almost immediately to come and see you. I showed up here thinking Lorelai might know when you were expected to arrive in California. The last I knew, you were going by bus, but I couldn't be sure."

"Likely story," Lorelai interrupts. "What kind of man walks around without a phone or wallet? That's pretty shady if you ask me."

He answers but directs his words at me. "Tamara, I'm not stupid. There is no way I was showing up here with my address printed out in my pocket and a phone containing the contact information of everyone I care about. I hid them before coming inside. Judging from my current position, I'd say I was right to be cautious."

"Why not text her?" Lorelai asks. "If you're friends."

"Some things need to be said face to face," Paul answers, still holding my gaze. "I knew you were angry about what I said about your brother and needed some time. And with what I…"

His eyes turn toward Lorelai. It looks like he wants to say more, but not with witnesses.

I reach my hand toward her. "Hand me the scissors, please."

She puts them in my palm. I sigh in relief. She's not going to try to detain us.

Staring at Lorelai, he says to me, "I also wanted to make sure your mother was a decent person and that you'd be safe here. What kind of man would I be if I let you do this by yourself? I couldn't let you face her alone. That's a difficult thing under the best of circumstances, but with what Conrad has been up to? You could not have expected I would go off and be fine abandoning you. I knew if I tried to call or text to say something, you'd probably bite my head off again."

"Actually, I probably wouldn't have answered," I admit.

I start cutting the pink duct tape along his side, trying not to poke holes in his shirt material. I whisper, "I think I know someone who would think these pink unicorns are a good look for you."

"She misses you," Paul whispers back.

"I won't apologize for protecting my daughter," Lorelai interrupts loudly. "I'm not sorry about any of this."

Finishing at his waist, I move to a wrist.

Paul's expression tightens. "Then I guess there is nothing for me to forgive."

The second his wrist is free he lifts his hand to my face briefly before reaching to pull the piece of tape hanging off his cheek. He tosses it on the floor.

"As long as we understand each other," Lorelai quips. "Next time you come to someone's house, introduce yourself properly, young man. Seriously, if you had just told me you were infatuated with my daughter, I probably wouldn't have made the duct tape so tight."

Lorelai wasn't kidding. She's not apologizing.

I cut the second wrist free. Paul instantly starts to pull the tape off his chest. It comes off in one big strip. I cut the tape holding his ankles down.

"And you, Tamara, could have told me earlier that you had a boyfriend who might come looking. This isn't 1955, and you're not a teenager. I expect you to have a man. Or woman. Honestly, I'm good either way." Lorelai shakes her head. "I can see by the nervous looks you're giving me that you two have much to discuss. You can stay in this room. Guest supplies are in the nightstand. Towels in the linen closet. I'm ordering Chinese food. Come down in about forty-five minutes for dinner."

Lorelai leaves us.

"She's a nut job," Paul says.

I can't blame the outburst. "I don't think she's out to harm us. If she was, she wouldn't have let me free you, and I don't think she would have left you alive. I think we can trust her."

"Yeah, probably, but she's still out there," he mutters.

Paul surges to his feet the second he's completely free. He stretches by arching his back for a few seconds before he wraps his arms around me in a giant hug and squeezes. A small eruption of surprise leaves my throat, and he releases me. "Your mother is…"

"I know." I shrug helplessly. "My family is different than most. I'll understand if you want to fly back to Kansas. I promise you won't be abandoning me. You can leave with a clear conscience."

I say the words, and I believe them to be true. They don't feel true. I don't want him to go—I never want him to go—but nothing has changed. I'm still me, and danger still lurks. Even if I get past this current turmoil with Conrad, that doesn't mean there won't be more trouble standing in line right behind him.

I think of Uncle Mortimer. What would he say if I brought home Paul to rule the Devine magical empire with me? How long would that empire last without supernatural protection? I would never bring him and his daughter into that life.

Out of all my current traumas, this one hurts the worst.

"Tamara, what your mother said about me being infatuated with you," he begins.

I shake my head to stop him. "You don't need to say anything. She's a little bit of a free spirit. I don't expect her to speak for you."

"That's not it. I was going to say that I'm not infatuated with you. The reason I came here to California is because I wanted to tell you that I'm all in. I don't know any other way to love someone. What I feel is not infatuation. It might be sudden, but it's not some fleeting whim. I lived in a bad relationship for years. I know what I want and what I don't. I'm here to say I love you. I don't know what you do with that. I don't know where we go from here. I wish I knew the answers to everything. But I know how I feel at this moment."

Warmth floods me at his words. My heart beats fast, and I don't want him to stop talking. I don't move, scared of breaking the spell.

"Leaving you in front of that crappy hotel was one of the worst feelings I've ever experienced. I know how bad that sounds, considering where we met." He takes a deep breath and releases my face. "Now, if you excuse me…"

Before I can answer, Paul runs out of the room. My mouth hangs open in shock at the sudden departure. "Paul?"

I hurry after him in time to see the bathroom door closing. I cover my mouth to muffle the laugh that tries to escape. To be fair, he'd been tied in that chair for a while.

He loves me.

Love.

The word fills me with such aching joy. It's everything I could ever want—to belong with Paul, to be with him.

My damned mind instantly sabotages the moment. I remember the danger. I think about giving up my inheritance. To whom? Conrad? That would never work, not after all this. After I deal with my brother, maybe Uncle Mortimer will take over. I know he's never shown a lot of interest in taking on more responsibility when it comes to my father's businesses. My uncle has a lot of rules about how the supernatural should conduct itself, and I am the remaining blood heir. But wouldn't he be forced to do it if there is no one else?

Uncle Mortimer's solution is to make me conceive a supernatural baby so the bloodline lives on. If he took over, he'd probably find a way to make that happen. I'd never abandon my baby in that world. I'm not my mother. I can forgive Lorelai for her decisions because she left me with my father, but knowing what I know, I'd never leave a baby to be raised without me.

No matter how hard I try, the math doesn't work. Paul plus me doesn't equal happily ever after.