Page 86 of Necromancers Don't Raise

I still felt woozy from stepping through that creepy dark web world. Then again, he was mine. I was going to kiss his socks off the second I got him alone.

I beamed at him. “I’m the happiest person in the world. We’re actually married. Crazy.”

“Crazy,” he echoed, brushing the back of my hand with his thumb before we walked down to a corner where a nurse worked behind her desk.

“We’re looking for Mrs. Clarence. This is her husband,” Mercury said, gesturing at my dad.

“Oh good! Maybe you can reason with her,” she said, standing up and walking around the desk to us. “She’s insisting that she’s fine and doesn’t need to stay overnight for observation. But after that concussion, she needs to be still. Vincent Bellham himself had to threaten to knock her unconscious if she didn’t stay in her hospital bed, but I don’t trust her. She’s a workaholic. I had an uncle like that. Had a heart attack and still wouldn’t stop. Had to be carried away from his office on a stretcher. Some people don’t know how to rest.”

I held very still and ignored the sharp look Mercury gave me. I was not a workaholic. I just had a few things to do before I could safely lock myself in his bedroom and devour him.

When we got to the room, my mother’s voice was very clear.

“I can’t just relax. I need to prepare with my lawyers. I have no intention of sharing a prison with Mr. Good.”

We walked into the room and there was my mother with the redhead Vincent Bellham. She looked very pale, with a bandage around her forehead, arms, and neck. When she saw me, her eyes narrowed, but then my dad rushed over to her, and her expression became completely frozen, horror and shame fighting for dominance.

“Patty, what happened?” he asked, bending over her and looking concerned.

She finally took a breath and said, “I wanted to give you?—”

“So, Mrs. Clarence,” I said loudly, cutting her off and leaning over to get in her space. “We got married! Five minutes ago. Uncle Clarence was the witness at the wedding. Isn’t that grand?”

She blinked at me, then her eyes began to narrow. “Did he miss the interview?”

“No, I saw it,” my dad said with a kindly smile. “That’s why I got on the jet to Singsong City. So your sister was Mr. Good’s obsession.” He clicked his tongue and patted her shoulder. “Your interview was perfect. You have so much grace, charm, composure. I don’t think anyone is going to think the worse of you for having a sister who happened to be seduced by Mr. Good. It was particularly interesting that the late Barbara Benson was the reporter. Undead in the ashes of the conference? It was hard to watch, but it gave me some closure.”

My mother looked at him and then at me. “You had two interviews?”

“What? No idea what you’re talking about.” I took a step away from her. “Well, we’ve got to get going. There is kissing to be done.”

“No,” she said with that look, the one where she was going to war and taking no prisoners. “I’m done running. I’m done lying. Salina is dead. He deserves to have his daughter back.”

She folded her hands in her lap, looked up at my dad and said, “Nova is Cassandra. She came back from the dead after she was murdered by a demon-girl. It was my fault. I missed the most important detail. I thought my past wouldn’t come back to haunt me, but of course it did. I stole the identity of Patricia Watford. I betrayed you with Mr. Good because I wanted you to have a child, and I wanted to save the business. I’m only interested in protecting human rights against the greater evil because of my own self-interest, being hunted for so longby such a great evil. I’m not good. My father murdered the Watfords in their house, burned it down around him to get rid of all evidence that would prove I was someone else.”

“You didn’t agree with that,” I said, almost certain of it.

She gave me an impatient look. “It’s not my method, but I made use of it.” She met my father’s eyes, her own resolved, determined to do the right thing even though it was the worst thing for her.

Wait a second. What was goodness if not that? Mistakes? Yes, she’d made more than her share, but she’d still done so much good, and was sitting there, willing to give up her own reputation so my dad could have his daughter back. Then again, maybe he wouldn’t want me if he knew that I wasn’t his real…

He grabbed me into the biggest, squishiest hug of all time, his heart beating so fast that I could feel his neck’s pulse against my forehead. “My baby. I’ve missed you so much.”

A wave of emotion rushed through me, and then I was crying, holding him back and just sobbing because he didn’t care. He was my dad and always would be, no matter what my DNA looked like.

After a long time like that, he pulled away, his own eyes bright with tears. “Cassandra, how could you let us think you were gone forever?”

“Cassandra is gone forever. Is this Cassandra’s face? I’m not doing any more surgery to change who I am.”

He blinked at me. “You think that surgery changes who you are? No. You change who you are by the choices you make every day. What others think of you won’t ever define you unless you let it. You are still yourself. And you are my daughter.”

I sniffled and then took the tissue my mother handed me, blowing my nose. “Thanks. I’ve missed you so much.” I looked at my mother. Her expression was resigned, relaxed, at peace.“Mom loves you. Her fling with Mr. Good didn’t really mean anything.”

He nodded and touched her shoulder, lightly. “I know. Patricia, it was a long time ago. Everyone makes mistakes. I’d like to take counseling together, if you don’t mind. I understand that everyone makes mistakes, but so many years of lying can’t be undone in a moment. Will you?”

She studied him and then slowly nodded. “Of course. If anyone needs therapy, it’s me.”

I grabbed her in a tight hug for a second before jumping back and grabbing Mercury’s arm. “Well, we’ve got to go. Statues aren’t going to distribute themselves, you know.”

---