“There is definitely a new case.” I scratched her head. “I haven’t decided if—”
“I’m in.” She pumped her tiny fists. “This is going to be awesome.”
“Ahem.” Clay tipped his chin toward me. “You need to take that up with Rue.”
“We’re a team,” Colby assured him. “She wouldn’t leave me behind.” She slid her gaze to me. “Again.”
“How am I always the bad guy?” I left Benedict Arnold and entered the house. “Seriously, how?”
“Remember when you were a kid,” Clay began, “and your parents told you no, and that made them the bad guy?”
“Now that you mention it—” I angled toward Clay, “—no.”
The few memories I had of my parents had been weathered by time…and magic. Unlike the tea I brewed for the girls to help them cope, the director slipped bitter potions in mine when I was a child. He wanted to erase anything that came before, anything that might hold me back from reaching my full potential.
Years of my life were a blank slate he had written his own message on.
The awkward lull that followed prompted Colby to make a confession.
“I don’t remember much about my parents.” She hunkered down on Clay’s head. “Is that weird?”
“Neither do I,” I confessed, so she wouldn’t feel as exposed in her vulnerability. Colby never talked about her family. Ever. A fact that worried me. But I didn’t share my childhood either. “I don’t trust what little I think I do.” I had too much magically induced brain trauma to be certain of its authenticity. “Pretty sure I invented my loving version of Mom and Dad based on the stories I’ve heard from others over the years.”
“I hate that.” Sympathy etched Clay’s face. “For both of you.”
As a golem, he had no parents. He had a creator. A long-dead one. Any bond they shared had been buried with him.
“After I turned thirteen, I got recruited for Black Hat, and my…” I bit my cheek until a copper tang spilled into my mouth to avoid calling the director Grandfather, “…guardian wasn’t able to screw with my head anymore.”
And…I hadn’t meant to overshare like that.
“Thirteen?” Clay boomed with ear-ringing volume. “He turned you over at thir-fucking-teen years old?”
Colby stared at him in awe then whipped her head toward me to see if he got in trouble.
“No cursing,” I told them, then escaped down the hall to avoid more questions. “I need to pack.”
Bile crept up my throat as I entered my bedroom and shut the door behind me.
The faint knock that hit seconds after the latch clicked made me regret ever opening my big mouth. Now that I had unstoppered that bottle, I had done worse than release a genie. I had freed a wisp of my past I didn’t want to pollute my present. I had no use for pity. For better or worse, what was done was done.
Expecting Colby, I lost my train of thought when I opened the door on Asa. “Look, if you’re here to—”
“—borrow a comb and detangler?” His lips twitched. “I could use your help too, if you don’t mind.”
A giddy thrill shot through me, and I had no idea why, but this olive branch was exactly what I needed to seal the past back into the airtight box, where it could suffocate for all I cared. I hated that I recalled with such perfect clarity how the director trained me, how I lived for years under his roof, but Mom and Dad, their faces, were remembered from the photos I had collected of them.
“It’s in the workroom.” I waved him back to the third bedroom. “This is where we test new recipes for the shop.” I indicated one of the stools. “You can sit there, and I can hose you down. Unless you’d rather shower? The soap your daemon used wasn’t meant for hair, but I keep the good stuff in the bathroom.”
“I’ll give it a day or two before I wash it,” he decided, “let my scalp replenish some of its natural oils.”
“You’re big on haircare, huh?” I caught myself before I brushed aside a few twisted strands caught on his collar. “Do you keep yours long for any particular reason? Other than exploding ovaries, obviously.”
“It’s tradition.” Asa sat and folded his hands in his lap. “I’m forbidden to cut it except for split ends.”
“Wow.” I grabbed the detangler and moved behind him. “That’s strict.”
“Traditions often are.” He glanced over his shoulder. “Does this make you uncomfortable?”