Winter Embers [ Book 2 ]

Chapter Twelve

          The man didn't speak, simply stared, not at her, but beyond, at some distant memory Claire was not privy to.

          "Claire, are you okay?" Rollan stepped in close and she felt his arm wrap around her waist. "You look pale."

          "I'm fine, where is Draz?"

          "He's fine, he's um, I think your friend here did something to knock him out," Rollan replied, turning back towards the man who still seemed lost in his thoughts. Rollan frowned and leaned in close, squinting for a moment before jerking back in surprise.

          "Valerick?"

          The man slowly seemed to come back to himself, his gaze settling on Rollan.

          "I haven't gone by that name in decades, I didn't think there were any left alive who knew it, none that would care to speak it anyway, who are you?"

          "That's not important right now," Rollan said, eyes wide. He looked at Claire. "Claire, this man, he's-"

          "Enough," the man said, slamming a fist against the counter top.

          Rollan scowled.

          "What's the matter, Val? Truth too much to handle? He's your father, Claire," Draz grunted as he hauled himself to his feet. "Valerick Belmont, Grand Master Magician and former advisor to the king. That was a dirty trick you bastard, I think I broke something..."

          "Too bad it wasn't your mouth..." Rollan grumbled.

          "What?" Claire gasped, her eyes darting from face to face, waiting for someone to tell her it was some sort of joke. "No, that's impossible, my father is dead. My mom, she always told me... that he was dead."

          "Then it's probably true, he's probably dead," Valerick replied, averting his eyes. "I'm not father material."

         "How old are you, Claire?" Rollan asked.

         "Twenty three, well, twenty four in the fall," she replied, her thoughts whirling.

         "Hmm, that would mean that my aunt was pregnant before she went to Earth," Rollan said thoughtfully.

        "Nathalie would have told me, if she had told me I never would have let her go," Valerick argued, still refusing to meet Claire's gaze. She felt as though she had once again had her life turned completely upside down. Her chest felt tight and the small space suddenly seemed too small.

          "I need some air," she said at last, pulling away from Rollan. "I just need a minute and some air."

          She ignored the stares of the patrons as she walked with brisk strides towards the door. She just needed to be away, to collect her thoughts, to try to make sense of it all.

          If there was any sense to be had.

          In the span of a few days she had gone from thinking she was an orphan with no family to speak of, to learning she had a cousin who lived the better part of his life as a doll, an uncle who had murdered his own brother, and now, to top it all off, an alcoholic father in desperate need of a bath and a haircut.

          What else could there possibly be? Did she have a sibling she didn't know about? A long lost twin perhaps?

          Taking a deep breath, Claire wrinkled her nose and quickly concluded that the air outside the pub wasn't any clearer, or cleaner, than had it been inside. In fact, it might have been worse with a heavy, underlying stench that Claire had no desire to identify. While it was nice to get away, to take a moment to herself to figure out how to approach this whole situation, the alley was eerily quiet which made her uneasy.