"We brought her ...' I said at last. "But there's another reason we're here.'
I don't know what tone my voice conveyed, but Emily stiffened and stepped back from Sonya, sitting down beside her husband. Somehow, in that moment, I think she knew why we were here. I could see in her eyes that she was afraid--as if she'd been dreading this type of visit for years, as if she'd imagined it a hundred times.
I pushed forward. "We know ... we know about Eric Dragomir.'
"No,' said Emily, her voice an odd mixture of harshness and desperateness. Her obstinate manner was remarkably similar to Sonya's initial refusal to aid us. "No. We are not doing this.' The instant I'd seen Jill, the instant I'd recognized those eyes, I'd known we had the right place. Emily's words--more importantly, her lack of a denial--confirmed it.
"We have to,' I said. "This is serious.'
Emily turned to Sonya. "You promised! You promised you wouldn't tell!'
"I didn't,' said Sonya, but her face wore its earlier doubt.
"She didn't,' I said firmly, hoping to reassure them both. "It's hard to explain ... but she kept her promise.'
"No,' repeated Emily. "This isn't happening. We cannot talk about this.'
"What ... what's going on?' demanded John. Anger kindled in his eyes. He didn't like seeing strangers upset his wife.
I directed my words to Emily. "We have to talk about this. Please. We need your help. We need her help.' I gestured to Jill.
"What do you mean?' asked Jill. That earlier eager spark was gone, cooled by her mother's reaction.
"It's about your--' I came to a stop. I'd rushed into this, ready to find Lissa's sibling-- her sister, we now knew--with little thought of the implications. I should have known this would be a secret from everyone--including the child in question. I hadn't considered what a shock this would be to her. And this wasn't just some random stranger. This was Jill. Jill. My friend. The girl who was like a little sister to all of us, the one we looked out for. What was I about to do to her? Looking at John, I realized things were worse still. Did Jill think he was her father? This family was about to be shaken to its core-- and I was responsible.
"Don't!' cried Emily, jumping up again. "Get out! All of you! I don't want you here!'
"Mrs. Mastrano ...' I began. "You can't pretend this isn't real. You have to face it.'
"No!' she pointed to the door. "Get out! Get out, or I'll ... I'll call the police! Or the guardians! You ...' Realization flashed over her now that the initial shock of seeing Sonya had faded. Victor wasn't the only criminal Moroi would be on guard for. "You're a fugitive! A murderer!'
"She is not!' said Jill, leaning forward. "I told you, Mom. I told you before it was a mistake--'
"Get out,' repeated Emily.
"Sending us away won't change the truth,' I said, forcing myself to stay calm.
"Will someone please tell me what the hell is going on?' John's face was flushed red, angry and defensive. "If I don't have an answer within thirty seconds, I'm calling the guardians and the police.'
I looked over at Jill and couldn't speak. I didn't know how to say what I needed to, at least not tactfully. Sydney, however, didn't have that problem.
"He's not your father,' she said bluntly, pointing at John.
There was a slight pause in the room. Jill almost looked disappointed, like she'd hoped for more exciting news.
"I know that. He's my stepdad. Or, well, my dad as far as I'm concerned.'
Emily sank back on the couch, burying her face in her hands. She seemed to be crying, but I was pretty sure she could jump up at any moment and call the authorities. We had to get through this fast, no matter how painful. "Right. He's not your biological father,' I said, looking steadily at Jill. The eyes. How had I never noticed the eyes? 'Eric Dragomir is.'
Emily made a low keening sound. "No,' she begged. "Please don't do this.'
John's anger morphed back to the confusion that seemed to be so in fashion in this room. "What?'
"That ... no.' Jill slowly shook her head. "That's impossible. My father was just ... just some guy who ran out on us.'
In some ways, that wasn't far from the truth, I supposed. "It was Eric Dragomir,' I said. "You're part of their family. Lissa's sister. You're ...' I startled myself, realizing I had to look at Jill in a whole new way. "You're royalty.'
Jill was always full of energy and optimism, operating in the world with a naive hope and charm. But now her face was grim and sober, making her look older than her fifteen years. "No. This is a joke. My dad was a lowlife. I'm not ... no. Rose, stop.'
"Emily.' I flinched at the sound of Sonya's voice, surprised to hear her speak. I was more surprised at her expression. Authoritative. Serious. Determined. Sonya was younger than Emily by--what? Ten years, if I had to guess. But Sonya had fixed her cousin with a stare that made Emily look like a naughty child. "Emily, it's time to give this up. You have to tell her. For God's sake, you have to tell John. You can't keep this buried anymore.'
Emily looked up and met Sonya's eyes. "I can't tell. You know what will happen ... I can't do that to her.'
"None of us know what will happen,' said Sonya. "But things will get worse if you don't take control now.'
After a long moment, Emily finally looked away, staring at the floor. The sad, sad look on her face broke my heart. And not just mine.
"Mom?' asked Jill, voice trembling. "What's happening? This is all a big mix-up, right?'
Emily sighed and looked up at her daughter. "No. You are Eric Dragomir's daughter. Rose is right.' John made a small, strangled sound but didn't interrupt his wife. She squeezed his hand again. "What I told you both over the years ... it was true. Mostly. We did just have a brief ... relationship. Not a cheap one, exactly. But brief.' She paused and glanced over at John this time, her expression softening. "I told you ...'
He nodded. "And I told you the past didn't matter to me. Never affected how I felt about you, about Jill. But I never imagined ...'
"Me neither,' she agreed. "I didn't even know who he was when we first met. It was back when I lived in Las Vegas and had my first job, dancing in a show at the Witching Hour.'
I felt my eyes go wide. No one seemed to notice. The Witching Hour. My friends and I had been to that casino while hunting for Robert, and a man there had made a joke about Lissa's father being interested in showgirls. I knew Emily worked in a Detroit ballet company now; it was why they lived in Michigan. Never would I have guessed that she'd started as a feather-and-sequin-clad dancer in a Las Vegas show. But why not? She would have had to start somewhere, and her tall, graceful frame would lend itself well to any type of dancing.