Glimmerglass

Grace smiled at my obvious yearning. “I’ll leave you to get some rest,” she said. “There’s an en suite bathroom right through there.” She pointed at a closed door at the other end of the room.

“Thanks,” I said, my tendency toward politeness rearing its ugly head. I took a couple of steps toward the bed. I probably should have fished my toiletries out of my luggage and at least brushed my teeth before collapsing, but the lure of sleep was overpowering.

“Sleep well, dear,” Grace said; then the door closed behind her and she was gone.

I had just reached out and put a hand on the bed to pull back the fluffy down comforter when I heard a distinctive click. I blinked. Surely I hadn’t heard what I thought I’d just heard.

Alarm overriding my fatigue for the moment, I went to the door. I could hear Grace’s footsteps retreating down the wooden stairs. I put my hand on the doorknob, hoping against hope I was wrong. But when I tried to turn the knob, it stayed stubbornly in place.

My dear Aunt Grace had just locked me in.

chapter three

Of course, I had to try pounding on the door and yelling, but I can’t say I was really surprised when that didn’t work. The only other way out of the room was the window. I had to climb up on a chair to look out, and what I saw was discouraging. I was on the third floor, so climbing out the window didn’t seem like the best idea in the world—even if I could have gotten it open, which I couldn’t. There was no lock that I could see, and it didn’t look like it was painted shut, but repeated banging and prying got me nothing but a couple of broken nails.

Why, oh why, had I decided to leave home? I’d been dealing with my mom for my whole life; what would another couple of years have mattered? Hell, it wouldn’t even have been a full two years—just this summer, my senior year at school (I’d skipped a grade in middle school, so I was generally younger than everyone else in my class) and then the summer that followed. After that, I’d be away at college, and I had every intention of going to school as far away from home—wherever that happened to be at the time—as possible.

My eyes were gritty and my head ached, but I couldn’t imagine lying down and taking a nice little nap under the circumstances.

I found myself fidgeting with the cameo once again. Was my father really in jail? If so, what for? Mom had told me some terrible stories about him, but I was convinced at least half of them were lies.

But what if they weren’t? What if he was in jail because he belonged there?

I shook the thought off. Aunt Grace had intercepted me at the border, bullied me, and then locked me up. I sat down on the edge of the bed and considered my options. Too bad I didn’t seem to have any at the moment. About fifteen minutes later, I heard the sound of footsteps approaching. And voices.

One of them was Aunt Grace, and the other was a man—I hoped against hope that the man was my father. I couldn’t hear what they were saying, and when they got close enough for the words to be distinct, they shut up.

The hair on the back of my neck prickled for no reason I could name, and I backed away from the door. I heard the soft mumble of Grace’s voice, and the door unlocked and opened itself.

I’d said Aunt Grace was tall and imposing. She had to be at least five-nine, five-ten. But the man who stood behind her in the doorway was enormous. Well over six feet tall—probably more like seven—he’d have to bend over to fit through the door, and he was wide enough that I wondered how he’d made it up the narrow staircase. He looked like what you’d get if you crossed an NBA star with a non-green version of the Incredible Hulk.

Grace entered the room, and, thankfully, her giant friend stayed behind. Blocking the doorway, I suppose, in case I made a run for it. I crossed running for it off my list of options.

I had to fight down a shiver even as I tried to sound brave. “Where do you get off locking me in my room?” I demanded. At least, I tried to demand. I’m afraid “whimpered” might be a better description. Then I got a better look at her—and at the big bruise that bloomed on one side of her face. I gasped.

“What happened?” I asked, momentarily forgetting that she was the enemy.

She looked grim. “My brother was … unwise to bring you here.”

“Huh?”

“You are in danger. Our family is one of great power and consequence. Now that Seamus has claimed you as his daughter and brought you here, there are factions who might see you as a tool to be used to control him. Someone must have seen me bring you here. I was attacked while I was unlocking the front door. I was lucky I’d called Lachlan and asked him to meet me. He chased them off before they could do too much damage. But this proves I was right: you aren’t safe here.”

“Tell you what,” I said. “Why don’t you let me go back to London? I can get a hotel room there and wait until my dad’s out of … er, until he’s available. That way I won’t be putting you through any trouble, and’”

She shook her head. “The men who attacked me were human. I don’t know who they were working for, but they could easily pursue you to London. No, we have to take you to a more secure location, at least until Seamus is free.”

My head felt all fuzzy, like my brain had decided it couldn’t take any more and was going on strike. Aunt Grace looked genuinely worried, and that bruise on her cheek was ugly. Still, just because someone attacked her didn’t mean they were after me. I mean seriously, I’m a half-blood American teenager. How could any of this possibly be about me?