Chapter 22: Family

Chapter 22: Family

I walked back to the bathroom, careful to hide my sleeve. My mind spun. Was this all I needed? Was I finished? Had it really been that easy? Once I reached the bathroom, I checked all the stall doors then hid in the one at the end.

"Remi," I said.

Immediately the room darkened and the shadow man appeared. He stood in front of me in the wheelchair assessable stall.The bright ember buzzed around his head.

"You rang?" He said.

"I got it. Mother's blood." I held out my sleeve. "And father's blood." I produced the vial from my pocket and presented them to him. "Now what?"

He grimaced. "So, I hate to say this, but that's not your father's blood."

I looked down at the vial. "Did he give me cow's blood?"

"Oh, no. It's his blood. He's just not your father."

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Excuse me?"

"Yeah, he's not your father. I've been there since you were conceived."

I blinked. A little mortified and more than a little annoyed. "And you couldn't share this fact before that really awkward encounter with my father?"

"Your adoptive father," he corrected.

I gave him a hard look. I think it was mostly shock, but I couldn't seem to process this new thought. My father wasn't my father. I didn't really feel upset, even though I know I should be. I kept staring at Remi then raised my eyebrows at him.

He shrugged his shoulders a couple of times. "What can I say? I'm bound by the rules. I can't just say stuff like that."

"I feel like this was something fairly important you could have shared with me when we started this whole damn quest. My friend's life is on the line and you act like it's all some game."

It was his turn to narrow his eyes. "I know it's not a game. I'm very well aware of the stakes."

"Fine. Whatever. Tell me where I can find my real father so we can have a super awkward conversation about him giving me his blood."

Remi stayed silent.

"I take it you can't tell me."

Remi held up his hands in a helpless gesture.

His handsome face was tempering my anger and turning it into annoyance. If it had been anyone else, I would be jumping up and down cursing at them. Instead, I just said, "Fine. Go away. I'll do it myself."

The bathroom lightened again. I exited the stall. I rolled my bloody sleeves up so the drying blood wouldn't be seen then shoved my hands in my pockets. How was I going to find a guy I'd never met? I thought back to all the people I remembered when I was little when my mom was still around. I couldn't think of any weird uncles or men that came around to visit. It was all neighbor moms and 4H friends. There was no one suspicious that I remembered.

Maybe that was why father had never visited Mom in this place. Maybe he found out and was mad at her. Dumping her in the looney bin was as good as divorce, I guess. Maybe someone else visited her here. Maybe that someone was my real father.

I spun on my heel. I reached the front desk that held the same unsmiling man. I turned on as much charm as I could muster. "Hi there. My mom was saying this guy visits her, but I don't know him. Do you think I could check the logs and see if I can figure out who this guy is?"

"Only relatives are allowed to visit."

"Okay, well maybe he is an uncle. I'm her daughter. Can I just take a look?"

The man glared at me. I held his stare. He tapped a few keys on the keyboard without looking away then finally looked at the screen.

"No one has visited Isabelle Hatfield except you since she has been here."

My heart hurt a little at hearing that. Even my brother never came to see her. Maybe he knew, too. I thought for a minute. "Does she have any mail? Does she get letters from anyone?"

He shook his head then stopped halfway. "No. But... I think she did have an outgoing mail that was returned. He searched through a stack of paperwork, then through another. After a few minutes, he produced a letter in a red envelope. "Will that be all?"

I took the letter and nodded. I left without another word. As I walked through the hallway back to the entrance, I opened the envelope. Inside was a piece of paper with two words. I stopped mid-step. The paper read, "Matevi Popov."

Like Popov. Like Mila Popov. What the hell?

My mind whirled. Was this what I was looking for? She showed up in my dream. She gave me the blood. She sent the letter. Was this man who was possibly Mila's father, my father, too?

I had a million questions. All of them I wanted to talk about with Mila, but Mila was the darkness. The very thing I was trying to get rid of.

I rubbed my temples. How was I going to get this done and why did it have to be me? The vertigo threatened me, spinning the room about as I walked. I grabbed for the wall to catch my balance. I pulled against it, blinking my eyes until the room settled.

I dragged my body through the door towards the waiting car. I fumbled with the damn door handle until it finally wiggled open. The rusted hinges clanged shut after I got in.

"Is everything okay?" Mila asked. "You're looking a little pale."

I managed a nod.

"Where to now?" She asked.

I shook my head. "Where ever. I don't care."

Mila gave me a long look then pressed the accelerator. The engine hummed as the car struggled forward.

I slouched down in the slippery brown vinyl seat. I felt so lost. I tucked the envelope in my tote bag turned purse. How did I even broach the subject with Mila/not Mila? By the way, I might be your sister... Hey, where is your gangster father at?... Or even, what's your dad's name? Oh, Why?...

None of these were good openers. All of these had strings attached to them. And if Mila was the darkness, then why would she answer them? Maybe the darkness didn't know of a spell that would expel it from the body. That seemed unlikely. If I was a big nasty magical entity, I would certainly know all the ways it could be thwarted and make contingency plans for them. No, I had to be smart. I eyed Mila again. Maybe I was just crazy. But even then, who was I to be battling some magical evil anyway? No. I couldn't do this. I had no chance. I couldn't save Mila. Who was I kidding? I couldn't even take care of myself.