Deception of the Magician (Waldgrave Book 2) (35 page)

“In the morning.” Mrs. Ralston turned and looked over her shoulder at the books Lena had left scattered on the bed. “What’s all of this?”

Lena cast her eyes at Edward Daray’s journals. The problem of her heritage had ever so briefly managed to slip from her mind. She realized that she wasn’t even sure where Griffin was, or what he had done with his day since leaving her in the basement. “It’s just some old stuff I found in a corner. It’s very interesting, actually…”

Rosaleen smiled, sending wrinkles running into the corners of her eyes. “Your grandfather was just like that. The two of you would have made quite the pair. He was always looking for an adventure.”

“Oh.” Lena frowned. She could still see the terror in Ben’s eyes as Pyrallis shot him down. “Yes, I suppose he was.”

Mrs. Ralston reached toward the nearest of the diaries and flipped it open. When the pages appeared blank before her eyes, she looked up at Lena. “What’s this one about?”

“Um…” Lena peered over her shoulder. On one page was the end of a manifesto, and on the other was a brief entry concerning a Council meeting that Edward had attended, and recorded sections of the deposition of his son, Pyrallis Daray. “Well, that’s the thing. I’m not quite sure yet.”

Mrs. Ralston sighed as she smiled at Lena. “And let me guess—you need to go somewhere to find out what the rest of this is about?”

Lena sat back. She felt her jaw physically drop. “Well, I’m not sure yet, but yes, probably, yes. How did you…?”

“Hmm.” Mrs. Ralston stood up. “Exactly like your grandfather. Always on the go, always getting into trouble.”

She walked to the door and turned to face Lena one last time. “Now, I don’t want you leaving this room until tomorrow morning. If you need anything, give me a shout. I’ll watch Devin for you.”

And then Lena was alone, staring at the books on her bed.

Lena abided by Mrs. Ralston’s rules and stayed in her room until five the next morning, when she crept away and walked around until she found the door with one of Doctor Evan’s assistants stationed in front of it. He was a younger man, probably in his mid-twenties with dark hair, dressed in generic looking scrubs, drinking a cup of coffee, sitting in a chair just next to the bedroom door.

Lena chimed in as she approached. “Hey.”

The young man, who had up to this point been staring at a spot on the wall across the way, straightened up and set his coffee down on the floor as he turned to look at her. “Hello, can I help you?”

Lena nodded toward the door. “How is he?”

The young man looked at her hesitantly. “Well…well I’m not sure if…”

Lena looked at the ground. She didn’t like what she was about to do, but she didn’t want to leave without knowing if Devin was going to be okay. She looked the man in the eye. “I pay your boss. Literally, out of my pocket and into his, the way it’s been for several generations. So tell me what’s going on in there, or—“

“No. That’s not what I mean.” He stood up to face her properly. “There’s a lot of damage, and everything that can be done is being done. He’s in a lot of pain, which we’re alleviating as much as possible, but you have to understand that he’s lost a kidney and parts of his liver. He’s going to lose several sections out of his small intestine, which is where most of the complications came in. All of the organs that were hit either contained toxins that they filtered from the blood, or digestive enzymes, which are now spreading throughout his body as we try to clean them out.”

He paused. Lena swallowed and tried not to look too worried, even though she felt it. She felt terrible; all of this was her fault. The young assistant continued.

“Now, he’s lucky as far as human-borns go, because he appears to be resistant to infection, but you need to understand that what’s happening to him now is just as dangerous, if not more so, because his body is being attack by its own toxins and digestive processes.”

He watched Lena. She tried to look calm. “So, what are you trying to say? What are his chances?”

“They’re not good.” He sighed, looked at Lena, and then away. “And frankly, Miss, the only reason we’re trying is because you’re demanding it. His life isn’t going to be pleasant, even after we get him sewn back together. Did it ever occur to you that maybe it was just his time?”

Lena stared at the young man until he looked back up at her; there was a sort of arrogance about his stony brown eyes that she had only ever attributed to doctors. They all had God complexes, deciding who lived and who died, and this one seemed more than a little put out that the decision to end it, for once, was not in his hands. Lena spoke with determination. “No. It didn’t. Because it’s not his time. And I want to be informed the second he’s allowed visitors.”

The man nodded and she turned and left. Lena went back to her room, and Mrs. Ralston brought her breakfast and sat with her. She mentioned that she hadn’t seen Griffin at any meals since breakfast the day before, and that some of the other Representatives were becoming anxious about the situation; given the precarious standing of the Daray household, many of them were worried that he was sick—some of them, no doubt, were anxiously hopeful that it would be lethal. She asked Lena if she knew anything about it. Lena lied and said she didn’t, and told Mrs. Ralston that she would find him and talk to him, which she promptly did after her trays were taken away.

She walked up to the fourth floor and knocked on his door. He didn’t answer.

Griffin!

She knocked again, harder.

Griffin, come on, you can’t stay in there forever!

Lena stood in front of the door for several more moments, but he never came. She knocked a third time, but still nothing. She tried the door handle, but it was locked, so she sat down next to the wall.

Look, please open the door, okay? I don’t know what happened way back when, and it makes no sense that you’re doing this. I mean, so what? So what, Griffin? So he lied to you about some stuff. My dad lied to me about stuff, but he had his reasons. I mean, I’m not saying that my grandfather had reasons, because he was just a bastard sometimes, but I found some stuff that I want you to look at. I think we should look into this, because I’m beginning to think that something was going on. And maybe it was all a lie, and maybe it was all true, but there’s only one way we’re going to find out, and that’s to go looking for the answers.

Lena paused. She couldn’t hear any activity behind the door. She sighed, and tried a different tactic.

People are starting to worry about you, Griffin. And we don’t need them worrying now, when we’re dealing with this whole situation with Rollin. I mean, do your drama on your own time, okay? We don’t need people worrying about the Daray house in addition to the challenge to the authority of the Council. You’re being such a selfish brat.

Nothing.

Oh, by the way, I brought Devin into Waldgrave and he’s staying because I say so.

Nothing. Lena’s brow crinkled; something wasn’t right.     

Griffin? Are you even there?

Lena pressed her ear to the door, but there wasn’t anything to hear. In his normal state, he never would have allowed her to speak to him in that fashion—anything that resembled a flat order or demand was usually enough to set him off. Calling him a brat should have created some sort of angry response, and she didn’t care how sulky he was, he should have pitched a fit about Devin coming into Waldgrave…spending so much time and effort to save the life of a human-born was ridiculous. Besides, Griffin hated Devin. He hated the very thought of him, because he felt outdone by him; Devin was the one thing that never failed to goad him to a response. He must have been 
really
 depressed to not even bother to answer…

Panic suddenly flooded through her veins. 
Griffin?! Open the door now!

She stood up and pounded on the door. She twisted the door handle back and forth, and then tried to shoulder the door in, but quickly realized that she was far too short and light to have any effect on it. She braced herself in the small inlet of the door frame and braced her foot on the door handle. She kicked it hard several times, until it loosened and finally fell free. She forced the door open.

Griffin!

She looked wildly around the room—he wasn’t there. She checked the bathroom and the closet, but they were both empty. It was only then that she settled down enough to actually take stock of the room itself. There were suitcases on the bed; Lena turned back to the closet and the realization that that it wasn’t just empty of Griffin. There was nothing; no clothes on the hangers, no shoes next to the wall, nothing folded on the shelves.

And there were blue, higher-end model, wheeled suitcases perched ever so carefully on top of the gold velvet comforter, largest to smallest, left to right. A voice spoke from behind her.

“What are you doing? And what the hell did you do to the door?”

Lena spun around; Griffin was standing in the doorway, looking bewildered and slightly vexed as he explored the empty hole that his door handle had once filled. She rushed over toward him and hugged him, but he pushed her away.

“Don’t touch me now.” He pushed passed her and went over to the suitcases, and moved them with his good arm, one by one, to the floor.

Lena crossed her arms and tried not to feel too rejected. He was, at least, acting like himself; in a bad mood, perhaps, but she had dealt with this behavior before. “I’m sorry…I was, well, Mrs. Ralston said that…the door was locked and I worried, and…”

“You were worried about what? That I’d end up like my father? But then, he wasn’t a real suicide. You know all about that.” Griffin paused and gave a wry smile. “And why did you kick the door in?”

“Because it was locked and you weren’t answering.” Lena said flatly.

“I always lock my door when I’m away. I’m surprised you don’t know that by now.” Griffin used his good arm to stack one of the smaller suitcases on top of a bigger one and then started wheeling them towards the door.

As he neared, Lena used her body to block the frame. “What are you doing?”

Griffin readjusted the weight of the smaller suitcase, which was starting to slip, and gave Lena an annoyed look. “I’m leaving. I believe we discussed this back in Texas, remember? You don’t want me here, and now I don’t to be here. It’s lucky the market is so bad now—I never actually sold the house in California.”

He tried to push passed her again, but she stood her ground. “But—no. I mean, you can’t just leave like this. I mean, how are you going to manage things from California, Griffin, for God’s sake—what about Rollin? What about Devin? What about—Jesus, Griffin, you’re not even gone yet and things are all going to hell so fast that I feel like my head is spinning! This is your responsibility! You can’t just walk out on all of this!”

She thought she saw a twitch of a smile on his face in response to her fanaticism as he put the suitcases down and pulled her back into the room so that he could close the door. He leaned against the door momentarily, just looking at her, before he started talking again.

“None of it is my responsibility, Lena, because he was a fraud. None of this…” He gestured around the room, “Is mine. This is the responsibility of the Daray family, which you have so ably exposed as a lie. This—all of this—is over a religion that is dead. Because—“

“But it’s not! I mean, it could—“

“Just let me finish!” He barked, glaring at her. “The religion is dead, and who knows for how long. Nothing of what I know makes sense with what we saw yesterday. None of it. I’ve wasted my life on lies, and I don’t intend to do it anymore. I’m going to California, and as you’ve told me so many times, the Council will be much better off without the Darays.”

Lena stared at him; there was so much determination in his eyes, but his words just felt so hallow. “No! No, you can’t just leave us here! There’s going to be questions, and—“

“Maybe there should be questions. Maybe it’s time this whole thing was exposed. But I don’t care; do what you want with it, Lena. It’s all yours now, because I’m not going to be a part of this cover-up anymore.” He picked up the suitcases and went out into the hall.

“I…people need you, Griffin. I need you. I can’t do this alone—they won’t follow me!” She pleaded as she watched his retreating form.

He took a few more steps and then stopped. He didn’t turn around. “I told you, I’m done with the lies.”

“They’re happy with the lies, Griffin! They can’t handle this, and you know it—maybe before, but not now. It will rip us apart. Not with Rollin out there, hanging over us like some…some damn self-ordained angel of death. They can’t handle this now, so please, please stay. Stay until we can tell them, and we’ll work through this one problem at a time.”

Griffin was silent for a moment. She walked forward and put a hand on his shoulder, but he shook her off. “I’m leaving, Lena. I can’t stay here. It’s in your hands now, and you can do what you think is best. If you want to handle it by creating more lies, then do it alone.” He let go of the suitcase and reached toward the wall to steady himself like he was dizzy.

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.” His voice cracked. Lena stared momentarily at the sling and all of the recuperative casing around his left arm; he still had a long way to go before it would ever be normal again. He started to speak as he reached toward the suitcase handle. “I left you a note under your door, concerning some loose ends, and I’d appreciate if you take care of it for me. I think I’m going to miss you, Lena, but I’m not sure. I want to be alone now, and I don’t want you disappointing yourself by thinking that I’m ever coming back. Things aren’t the way they were before.”