JК
A Stroke Of Midnight :: Гамильтон Лорел
Страница: 52 из 293”
“Are you all right?”
Over the years he’dbecome protective of me. As if he felt some debt to my dead father to keep me well. If he only knew, but I hadn’t shared all the attempts on my life. The endless duels that made me flee faerie for years and let everyone think I was gone for good.
This was the first time I had spoken to him since I’d resurfaced. “A little worse for wear, but I’m fine.”
“I thought they’d killed you, too, three years ago. Why didn’t you call?”
“Because if you’d spoken my real name near a darkened window the Queen of Air and Darkness would have known. The sound of our conversation would have traveled back to her. It would have endangered you. It would have endangered anyone.”
He sighed over the phone. “And now you’re ‘princess’ again, and looking for a husband. But you didn’t call up just to chat, did you?”
“Have you heard something?”
“A rumor that the reporters left the faerie mound, but are now all gathered in the parking lot. The press conference is over, so why are that many national and international media types hanging around in the middle of a cornfield in Illinois?”
I told him the broad outline of the problem.
“I can be there with a team in less than…”
“No, no team. I’ve already got a few police coming with a forensic unit. You can come, but you can’t bring dozens of agents with you. This happened inside the sithen, not on federal land this time.”
“We could help you.”
“Maybe, or maybe there would just be more humans to get injured. We’ve got a dead reporter, that’s bad enough. We can’t afford to have an FBI agent get killed by one of us.”
“We’ve talked about this for years, Merry. Don’t cut me out now.”
“My father’s murder is sixteen years old; it is secondary here, Raymond. The priority is the new deaths. Hearing your voice now, I’m not sure that would be the case for you.”
“You don’t trust me.” He sounded hurt.
“I’m in line to the throne now, Raymond. The good of the court outweighs personal vengeance.”
“And what would your father say to hear that from you, his daughter?”
“He’d say that I had grown wise. He’d agree with me.” I was wishing I hadn’t called him. I realized that Special Agent Raymond Gillett was part of a child’s wish. I couldn’t afford that kind of wishing, not anymore.
I was suddenly tired, and my arm ached from shoulder to wrist. I turned and leaned against the desk, half sitting on it.
“Are you all right?”
Over the years he’dbecome protective of me. As if he felt some debt to my dead father to keep me well. If he only knew, but I hadn’t shared all the attempts on my life. The endless duels that made me flee faerie for years and let everyone think I was gone for good.
This was the first time I had spoken to him since I’d resurfaced. “A little worse for wear, but I’m fine.”
“I thought they’d killed you, too, three years ago. Why didn’t you call?”
“Because if you’d spoken my real name near a darkened window the Queen of Air and Darkness would have known. The sound of our conversation would have traveled back to her. It would have endangered you. It would have endangered anyone.”
He sighed over the phone. “And now you’re ‘princess’ again, and looking for a husband. But you didn’t call up just to chat, did you?”
“Have you heard something?”
“A rumor that the reporters left the faerie mound, but are now all gathered in the parking lot. The press conference is over, so why are that many national and international media types hanging around in the middle of a cornfield in Illinois?”
I told him the broad outline of the problem.
“I can be there with a team in less than…”
“No, no team. I’ve already got a few police coming with a forensic unit. You can come, but you can’t bring dozens of agents with you. This happened inside the sithen, not on federal land this time.”
“We could help you.”
“Maybe, or maybe there would just be more humans to get injured. We’ve got a dead reporter, that’s bad enough. We can’t afford to have an FBI agent get killed by one of us.”
“We’ve talked about this for years, Merry. Don’t cut me out now.”
“My father’s murder is sixteen years old; it is secondary here, Raymond. The priority is the new deaths. Hearing your voice now, I’m not sure that would be the case for you.”
“You don’t trust me.” He sounded hurt.
“I’m in line to the throne now, Raymond. The good of the court outweighs personal vengeance.”
“And what would your father say to hear that from you, his daughter?”
“He’d say that I had grown wise. He’d agree with me.” I was wishing I hadn’t called him. I realized that Special Agent Raymond Gillett was part of a child’s wish. I couldn’t afford that kind of wishing, not anymore.
I was suddenly tired, and my arm ached from shoulder to wrist. I turned and leaned against the desk, half sitting on it.