“I am crazy. Isn’t that what you’re saying? Isn’t that why I need help?” I jerked a bulky sweater over my head without bothering to put a br
a on first.
“I don’t think you’re crazy. I think you’re…damaged.”
“Broken, you mean.”
“No, I didn’t use that word.”
I pulled up my pants and sat on the bed to put my socks on. I wanted to be offended and angry by his assessment, but it was honest. I was damaged. I had hoped it wasn’t apparent to everyone around me, though. Once I was dressed, I tied my hair back in a ponytail and finally looked at him.
“I get it, Holden. I’m screwed up. Maybe beyond repair.”
“You’re twisting my words, and that’s not fair. I was with you. If anything, I have every right to be just as screwed up as you are.”
“But you’re not.”
“I’m not letting it control my life.”
“I need to do this. You might not think killing Mercy will help me, but it will. It’s the last thing I need and then, then, I can sit down and figure out how to heal. Or to let things scab over at least. And maybe process the fact Sig could have pulled my puppet strings any time in the last eight years but hasn’t.”
“He wanted you to be free,” Holden suggested.
“My freedom is a fucking illusion. I think we both know that now.”
“No.”
“Whatever. Do you want to come help me kill Mercy?”
He smiled, and even though it was out of place in the conversation we were having, it made me feel better. “Secret, did you just ask me to meet your parents?”
I snorted and couldn’t help but smile back. He’d made the acquaintance of both my mother and father already, with memorable results since the former had been trying to kill me at the time and the latter was crazy. “You think my parents are nuts? Wait until you meet my grandmother.”
My phone buzzed on the nightstand, and I scrambled to collect it.
“Hello?”
“Secret. Secret. Such a peculiar name,” Sutherland mumbled. It wasn’t the first time he’d felt the need to inform me he didn’t approve of what Grandmere had called me.
“Dad.” My gaze turned to Holden, who’d obviously been listening in to determine who was calling. The vampire settled back into my chair. “What’s up?”
“I’m sorry to bother you.”
“No, it’s fine, it’s always fine.”
“I’m a bit hungry.”
Oh crud. Though I’d been over to see him the previous evening, his altercation with Nolan had taken center stage. I’d assumed he was well stocked with blood rather than actually checking his supply.
“Okay. I’ll go see Calliope. Can you sit tight for an hour?”
“Sit? I can sit. Do I have to?”
I rubbed my temple. “I don’t mean literally, Dad. You can move around, but don’t leave the apartment, understand?”
“No, of course. Can’t be trusted.”
I wanted to tell him that wasn’t the reason, but the truth was I didn’t know what he’d do out in the general populous. He’d been okay in Los Angeles with the West Coast vamps, but even there he’d had a reputation for being unhinged. Since he’d spent more time with The Doctor than either Holden or me, I wasn’t sure where he was sitting on the sanity spectrum these days. But it was safe to say he might not mix well with normal humans.