Page 120 of Deck of Scarlets

I left the cathedral in haste after the death of Asher, making sure nobody saw my departure, slipping out the side exit, running for the hills, or in this case, the streets of New York City. The others mourned, while I remained on the hunt to find Heather.

Father Benedict found demon residue underneath Asher’s lifeless body, indicating that Heather was removed before his murder. By what, we didn’t know.

But I needed answers, and the Order tended to pick and choose what they wanted us to know. And I refused to be in the dark any longer.

My home rose high in the city skyline, bright lights casting on me like a spotlight on Broadway. If I guessed correctly, and judging by when I left campus, my mother sat in the kitchen on a stool, reading one of her many Better Homes magazines with a glass of red wine.

And if luck were on my side, she would be the only one home.

Entering the building, surprised to find the lobby scarce, I took the elevator, watching the floors rise until I reached the level of the penthouse. The front door to my home mocked me as I approached, turning the knob ever so slightly so as not to alert my mother, and slipped inside undetected.

Silence came from every corner as I observed the few feet before me. I took a deep breath, calming my nerves and silencing the negative thoughts that tried to overtake my courage. Then I went through the rooms, trying my best not to make a sound and found my mother just where I knew she was. Hunched over, reading, a full glass of wine in hand. Her blonde hair flowed down her back in waves, and the smell of Dior rose from the oils of her skin, filling the room with familiarity and comfort. I bit my lip, watching her adjust on the stool, flipping through the glossy pages and tapping her foot against the island with her Sperry boat shoes. The wedding ring my father gave her glistened in the light on her freshly manicured nails.

Little did she know her only daughter stood under the threshold in Scarlet gear, a dagger hung on her hip. I refused to hide what she kept to her goddamn self for so long.

I cleared my throat, not at all surprised to see her glued to her phone. Her head snapped up and her eyes narrowed when she spotted me. “Nice of you to show your face."

I pushed off the threshold. Apparently, we were taking the hostile approach to this conversation. “Mom, we need to talk.”

“About you abruptly leaving dinner and ignoring every text and phone call from your father and me?” She typed away, not bothering to look at me as she went back to her phone screen. “Please, Remi, tell me you have a riveting excuse for your terrible behavior.”

Reeling in my anger before I smashed her favorite expensive China set, I took another step toward her. “You want me to apologize? Sure, I’m sorry, but that’s not why I’m here.”

She laughed, typing once more. “I should fault myself for raising such an inconsiderate child.”

Ignoring the sting of her words, I pressed on. “Mom, for once, please listen. This is important.”

Her laugh returned, mocking me as she said, “I let you have your summer. I let you gallivant around with your friends in the city doing I don’t know what, but somehow, it turns into me not listening.”

“Mom,” I said again.

“Never thought I would have such an ungrateful child. After everything I’ve done for you and continue—” I unstrapped the dagger from my hip and slammed the point of it right on her expensive marble counter, cracking it all the way through like a spider web. The light hit the blade, reflecting against my mother’s pale complexion.

“Remi,” she whispered.

I shook the hood off my head, letting her see the heavy bags under my eyes. “The truth, Mom.”

With a trembling bottom lip, my mother held her hand close to her chest as if struggling to catch her breath and said, “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You and I both know what I mean.” I rounded the island, making it clear I wouldn’t back down. “Please.”

Sadness clouded her vision, but she remained glued to the stool. “I never thought…” She trailed off, unable to form the right words.

Removing the dagger from the marble, I sheathed it back in place. “Grams’ will.”

Anger destroyed her features as if I had slapped her. “Your grandmother said it was over. I only sent you to the school because she’d already paid for it. You would’ve been halfway across the country if I’d known.”

“Why me and not Aiden?” I questioned.

Her mouth was set in a hard line as her eyes flickered back and forth. “I don’t know.”

“But he never attended?” Something wasn’t adding up.

“We hoped that your brother would fail, as he did. You will too. But your grandmother told me that the Order had fallen and was no more. I forbade her to tell you any of this.”

“Were you ever tested?”

“Yes.”

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