Chapter Twenty-one
I stared at him hard, my heart lurching with shock, and my view narrowed down to a grey tunnel centered on Thomas. Silence filled the room.
"You're lying," I said.
"I'm not."
"You must be."
"Why?" he asked.
"Because that's what you do, Thomas. You lie. You use people and you lie."
"I'm not lying this time."
"Yeah, you are. And I don't have time to put up with this crap." I started for the door.
Thomas got in my way. "You can't ignore this, Harry."
"Move."
"But we- "
My vision went red with rage and I hit him in the face for the second time in six hours. He fell to the floor, twisted his hips, and swept my legs out from under me. I hit the ground, and Thomas piled onto me, going for an armlock. I got a leg underneath me and sank my teeth into his arm as he tried to get it around my neck. I pushed up and slammed him against a wall with my body, and we both staggered apart. Thomas got to his feet, scowling at his arm where I bit him. I leaned against the wall, panting.
"It's the truth," he said. He wasn't as winded as I was from the brief scuffle. "I swear it."
A half- hysterical chuckle slipped out of my mouth. "Wait, I've seen this one before. This is where you say, 'Search your feelings; you know it to be true.'"
Thomas shrugged. "You wanted to know why I'd been helping you. Why I risked myself for you. Now you know why."
"I don't believe you."
"Heh," Thomas said. "I told you that, too."
I shook my head. "You said it yourself: You use people. I think you're playing me against your father somehow."
"It might work out that way," he said. "But that's not why I asked you to help Arturo."
"Why then?"
"Because he's a decent man who doesn't deserve to get killed, and there's no way I could have done it on my own."
I thought that over for a moment and then said, "But that's not all of it."
"What do you mean?"
"Inari. You went nuts when that vamp was on her. Where does she fit in?"
Thomas leaned up against the wall beside my mother's portrait. He pushed his hair back from his face with one hand. "She hasn't been taken by her Hunger yet," he said. "Once she starts feeding it there's no going back. She'll be like the rest of us. My father is pushing her toward that point. I want to stop him."
"Why?"
"Because if... if she's in love, that first time, it could kill her Hunger. She'd be free. I think she's mature enough to be capable of that love now. There's a young man she's all twitterpated about."
"Bobby?" I blurted. "The macho violent kid?"
"Give him a break. How insecure would you be if you were planning on spending the day having sex on camera in front of the girl you'd like to ask to dinner?"
"This might shock you, but I've never really considered that question before."
Thomas pressed his lips together for a moment and then said, "If the kid loves her in return, then she could have a life. She could be free of the kinds of things that-" His voice broke. He had to cough before he continued. "Things like what happened to Justine. Like what my father has done to my other sisters."
"What do you mean, done to them?"
"He establishes that he is their superior. He overpowers them. Pits his Hunger against theirs."
My stomach twisted. "You mean he feeds on his own..." I couldn't finish the sentence.
"Do you need me to paint you a picture? It's the traditional way to settle family differences in all the Houses of the White Court."
I shuddered and looked up at my mother's portrait. "God. That's hideous."
Thomas nodded, his expression bleak and hard. "Lara is one of the most capable, intelligent people I've ever met. But around him, she turns into an obedient dog. He's broken her to his will. Forced her to crave what he does to her. I won't let that happen to Inari. Not when she could make her own life."
I frowned. "Won't that bring your dad down on you? Force him to try to make you like them?"
Thomas grimaced. "His tastes don't run that way."
"Small mercy, I guess."
"Not really. He doesn't want to keep me around. It's just a matter of time before he comes after me. His sons, every last one of them, died under suspicious circumstances that can't be traced back to him. I'm the first male to live as long as I have. Partly thanks to you." He closed his eyes. "And partly thanks to Justine."
"Hell's bells," I said quietly. The whole thing was almost ridiculous. "So let me get this straight. You want me to help save the girl, overthrow the dark lord, and defend the innocents terrorized by dark magic," I said. "And you want me to do it because you're my long-lost half brother, who needs someone noble to stand beside him in desperate battle for what's right."
He grimaced. "That phrasing has way more melodrama in it than I would have used."
"You've got to be kidding me. That's a really lame con."
"Give me some credit, Dresden." He sighed. "I know how to con. If you were really just another mark, I'd have come up with a better story."
"Forget it," I said. "If you'd been straight with me to begin with maybe I'd help. But this bullshit about my mother is over the line."
"She's my mother too," he said. "Harry, you knew she wasn't exactly white as the driven snow. I know you've learned a little over the years. She was one hell of a dangerous witch, and she kept some bad company. Some of it was with my father."
"You're lying," I growled. "What proof have you got?"
"Would anything satisfy you?" he demanded. "Proof is something you use with rational people, and right now you aren't."
The anger started fading a little. I hadn't gotten much rest, and was too tired to keep it up. I ached. I slid down the wall until I was sitting. I rubbed at my eyes. "It doesn't make any sense. What would she have been doing hanging around with your father?"
"God knows," Thomas said. "All I know is that there was some sort of business between them. It developed into something else. Father was trying to snare her permanently, but she wound up being too strong for him to completely enthrall. She escaped him when I was about five. From what I've been able to learn, she met your father the next year when she was on the run."
"Running from who?"
He shrugged. "Maybe my father. Maybe some people in the Courts or on the Council. I don't know. She'd gotten into some bad business and she wanted out. Whoever she was in it with didn't want her gone. They wanted her dead." He spread his hands, palm up. "That's almost everything I know, Harry. I tried to learn all I could about her. But no one would talk to me."
My eyelids felt gummy. My chest hurt. I looked up at the portrait of my mother. She was a woman of evident vitality, life flowing from her and around her, even in the painting. But I'd never gotten the chance to know her. She died in the delivery room.
Damn it all, what if Thomas was playing it straight with me? It would mean that I knew a little more about why the White Council all watched me like I was Lucifer, the Next Generation. It would mean being forced to accept that my mother was involved in bad business. Scary, big, bad business of one kind or another.
And it would mean that maybe I wasn't entirely alone in this world. There might be family for me. Blood of my blood.
The thought made my chest hurt worse. As a child, I'd fantasized for hours at a time about having a family. Brothers and sisters, parents who cared, grandparents, cousins, aunts and uncles-just like everyone else. A group of people who would stick together through everything, because that's what families do. Someone who would accept me, welcome me, maybe even be proud of me and desire my company.
I never celebrated Christmas as a kid, after my dad died. It hurt too much. Hell, it still hurt too much.
But if I had a real family, then maybe things could change.
I looked up. Thomas's face had always been difficult to read, but I saw another mirror of myself there. He was having some of the same thoughts as me. I wondered if he'd been lonely, like I had. Maybe he'd daydreamed about a family who wouldn't be trying to manipulate him, control him, or simply kill him.
But I stopped myself before I could follow that line of thought. Things were just too dangerous, and this issue too sensitive. I wanted, on some level, to believe Thomas. I wanted to believe him very much.
Which was why I couldn't afford to take any chances.
After a long moment, he said, "I'm not lying to you."
My voice came out soft, quiet, and calm. "Then prove it."
"How?" he asked. He sounded tired. "How the hell am I supposed to prove it to you?"
"Look at me."
He froze, his eyes still on the floor. "I don't... I don't think that would accomplish anything, Harry."
"Okay," I said. I started to rise. "Which way is my car?"
He lifted a hand. "Wait. All right," he said. He grimaced. "I was hoping to avoid this. I don't know what you're going to see if you look in there. I don't know if you'll still feel the same way about me."
"Ditto," I said. "We'd better sit down."
"How long will it take?" he asked.
"Seconds," I said. "Feels longer."
He nodded. We sat down about two feet from each other, cross-legged on the floor at the foot of my mother's portrait. Thomas took a deep breath and then lifted his grey eyes to mine.