Bleeder [Blood Magic, Book 1]

Chapter 3: It's Not Paranoia If They're Really After You

"She left," Fredrick said. His words punctuated by the soft clink of his coffee cup as he set it down on the table.

"What?" I asked.

"Your mother went home," he told me, even though I'd already put two and two together. That was the sound I'd heard in the middle of the night: Estella leaving. "This has all been extremely hard on her. And one of us needed to get back to Michael."

"She's not my mother," I mumbled. I hadn't wanted to say that. I'd promised myself I'd try to be civil this morning, but it just slipped out.

"I wish you'd stop saying stuff like that," Fredrick said. "You have no idea how much those words hurt her – and me."

"And you have no idea how much all this hurts me," I said, bringing my hands to my chest. I'd thought I'd cried myself out, but another tear escaped and slid down my cheek.

"You're right," Fredrick agreed, in a tone obviously meant to calm me down. "And we've spent the last fifteen years worrying about the day we'd have to tell you and we prayed it would never come."

"You said all this already," I reminded him. "Besides, I don't buy it. You say you don't like it when I say she's my not mother, but she didn't even say goodbye."

"And would you have let her?"

As much as I hated to admit it, he was right. If she'd have come into my room last night, I would have probably screamed at her to get the hell out.

"She could have tried at least." My words sounded small and pathetic.

"Mildred, your mother is a human being," Fredrick said slowly, for maximum effect. "You feel rejected because you found out you were adopted, and she feels rejected because in your anger, justifiable as it may be, you completely forgot about the life we gave you. She couldn't take any more rejection, not when she might lose you regardless."

"That's all the more reason to say goodbye, isn't it?" I picked at the seam of my tank top and refused to meet Fredrick's eyes.

"I don't know what to tell you, Mildred," he said, shaking his head. "Maybe you'll understand when you're older."

That sounded like a cop-out.

"I want to understand now."

"Well, why don't you fix yourself some food and then we'll talk some more," he said, getting up from the table. "Besides, I could use another cup of coffee."

I didn't move from where I was standing. "What's there to talk about? You already said you can't tell me anything."

"That's not entirely true. I thought about what you said in the car yesterday and I agree with you. This is your life and you deserve to know what's going on. Your mother just wanted to protect you; please don't blame her for that."

"She's not my..." I started and promptly shut my mouth. Fredrick had just extended an olive branch, and I wasn't about to snap it into little pieces – yet. I wanted to see what would come of it first.

"Thank you," Fredrick said.

I nodded and made my way towards the table, but he stopped me before I could sit down.

"Food first, then talk."

"Okay," I relented, and shuffled past him into the kitchen. I hunted around in the cupboards until I found a tin of chicken soup, some crackers and a saucepan. I boiled it up in record time. Not only was I starving, but I was anxious to hear what Fredrick had to say, what Estella hadn't wanted me to know. The promise of disclosure had a numbing effect on my anger, morphing it from a red hot coal to a pile of smoldering ash.