Moving closer, I scanned the faces and frowned when I saw myself with several other familiar people. My aunt was holding me in one, her lips touching my forehead with a radiant smile lighting her eyes.
“That’s impossible,” I said out loud. Sandra died before I was born, and my mother had followed her during my birth. “What the hell, Dad?” I muttered absently, searching the other images.
There were more photographs of my aunt and me and ones that also included my father. My heart thundered in my chest, and my mind raced with the implications brought to light. Had he faked Sandra’s death to hide something? Or had my dad hidden her from the world as he had done with me?
Why would he grieve her loss if she wasn’t dead? Every year on the day of her death, he disappeared for twenty-four hours to mourn the sister he’d lost. I had been invited once when I was little, and his grief seemed genuine. He’d taken me to places they’d gone as children, showing me their world, even though we’d kept to the shadows to see it.
I slid my hand over the other crib and sighed, noticing the bookshelves that lined the wall. Reaching up, I grabbed a familiar tonic bottle that still smelled like the pills I took to this day. Had he hidden me in here? Or was this for another child like me? If there was a second child, was it altered to remain hidden from the monsters, too? Frowning, I set the thin brown bottle back onto the shelf and looked around with the eyes of a hunter and not those of a daughter.
The bassinets contained silver chains meant to hold the babies safely within, a common feature when having fae children, as many could teleport. Without them, the infants could vanish, frequently harming themselves in the process. The coverlets were worn, and someone had hand-stitched them with love. Reaching into the first crib, I removed the soft green blanket, noting the colors in each bed did nothing to help identify their sex. Holding up the fabric to smell, I sneezed, rubbing my nose with the back of my hand before returning it to the crib. What had I expected? If it was from my infancy, there was twenty-two years of dust on the material.
My father had once told me about a time when I’d vanished on him. I’d been two, and he’d put me down for the night, but I hadn’t wanted to sleep yet. I’d teleported, leaving him terrified and unable to locate me for hours. When he finally found me, I was outside beneath the full moon, watching the stars in the guild’s courtyard.
After that, he chained me to my bed to prevent me from teleporting anywhere else at bedtime. This is also near the same time he met up with Talia and concocted the pills to hide what and who I was from everyone.
I lifted my hand to my ear, skimming over the piercings that ran up my lobe. They were the same as my mother’s in every image of her inside this realm. I inspected the room one last time, then stepped out and back into the office, pulling the door closed behind me.
Most people would freak out about finding something like this in their father’s things. I wasn’t one of them, since I knew he liked to keep secrets, and I was one of those. Leaving the office, I snorted at the images that hung on the walls.
The man had taken random photographs and tried to turn them into art. Studying one, I narrowed my gaze on a building in the background. Knightly Industries was painted on the windows, and the symbol of the moon and stars, with an enormous wolf between them, held my attention. The same logo sat on the industrial park sign in another photo he’d captured and framed.
“Finding anything?” Noah asked, easing up beside me. “Other than dust, that is?” he grunted, leaning against the doorframe.
“No.” I churned the question over inside my head, wondering if I should tell him about the baby room, deciding it could wait. “I’m focused on upstairs because we can’t access the basement since it takes a combination of his and my blood to open the lock.” I squinted as the largest picture came into view. A sign stating, The Anderson Day and K. Knight Foundation, sat on what looked to be an orphanage’s gate.
I pulled out my phone and typed the name into the search engine, and sighed when it came back with nothing. Noah studied me and then lifted his gaze to the image, noticing what had gotten my attention. He stepped forward and took the photograph down, and frowned.
“That’s not a coincidence, is it?” he asked, holding the picture up, pointing at the sign. “Tell me that isn’t your grandfather’s name, and K. Knight isn’t Kieran Knight?”
“Wish I could, but I honestly have no idea what the hell it means,” I mumbled, peering at the other photographs. “I thought they were just random photos my dad took, but look at the names on them. You and I both know better than to assume this is a coincidence.”
“Do you think your grandfather knew Kieran Knight or someone related to him?”
“I don’t know anything anymore, Noah. I believed my aunt was dead, and yet she’s popping up everywhere now. First, in the photos the sheriff had of the old mill, and then today, I found one of her holding me as an infant. Of course, that’s impossible because I was told she passed away before I was born.”
“You think she was turned?” he asked, placing the picture back on the wall.
“No idea.” I yawned while stretching. “You guys should head out, though. I don’t think it’s wise to remain here much longer. I used the hex bags Talia made, but the potency is unpredictable. They were initially crafted to protect my bed, but I placed them here instead, to safeguard the estate. I don’t know how long we have on the bags, or if they’ll last until morning.”
“We’ve all talked and decided we’re not leaving you here alone,” he snorted, nodding to the stairs. “There are enough beds for us all to stay here, so pick one. I’d remove the top blanket, though, before lying on any of them.”
“You guys need to be at the guild, not here,” I complained to his retreating form. “You’re being obtuse.”
“Night, Xari. I’ll see you in the morning.” He jogged up the stairs, meeting the others, who smiled down, daring me to argue.
“Stubborn assholes,” I groaned, glancing at the bar that had a nightcap on it. “Thanks for the drink.”
“Figured you would need one,” he called back, heading down the west wing of the large upper level.
Chapter Nineteen
I peered at the rising sun from the bed on which I’d slept. I’d tossed and turned most of the night, haunted by nightmares of Kieran doing lavishly sinful things to me. It eviscerated the myth that you couldn’t die in your dreams, because I had. Once on his dick from coming so hard, I expired, dying on the spot, and the second time he’d used me for target practice, then played with my corpse.
Prying myself from the hard mattress, I sat up, staring at a shadow that slipped through the balcony doors. Clearing the sleep from my eyes, I blinked, trying to focus on the form exiting the bedroom. Standing, I grabbed one of my guns from the holster and chased after it.
“Stop!” I screamed in warning as it leaped onto the railing and then to the ground. “Son of a bitch!”
Rushing toward the glass door, I slid through it and jumped over the balcony, slamming against the hard dirt. Groaning, getting to my feet, I followed the pathway into the heavily overgrown garden.