She held my gaze long enough for it to become a staring contest, then she nodded curtly. “Yes, you do have a point. Very well, then, go and talk him into letting us in. We will wait.”
I unlocked the door and passed through the wards, calling out, “Owen?”
He was standing by his desk, looking out the front window. “Why did you bring them here?” he asked without turning around.
“Because your parents want to talk to you.”
“They’re not my parents.”
“Yes, they are. Whether or not the Morgans were your birth parents, James and Gloria are your real parents. They’re the ones who took you in and brought you up. They’re the ones who taught you right from wrong and how to use your power responsibly. They’re the reason that in spite of you having just about every possible strike against you, you didn’t turn out to be a monster. They care about you. They’re the reason you’re the man I love.” I realized a second after I said it that this might not have been the best time to use the L-word for the first time, but it was done, I meant it, and I might as well go on. “And you’re going to hear them out if they have to shout through the door.”
I felt the surge of magic that sometimes came when he was angry or frustrated and in danger of losing control. “They may not have known who I really was, but that makes the way they treated me even worse.”
“Maybe you should talk to them about why they were that way. And maybe you should get over being afraid of things that have already happened and start worrying about the future. If you want to be public enemy number one, you’re making a really good start. Now, if you need me, you know where to find me, but you’ll have to be the one to come looking because I’m done trying to talk sense into you.”
He didn’t say anything, so I turned and left, but as I went through the doorway, I felt the wards shift. “We’ll take it from here,” James said, bending to kiss my cheek before the two of them headed into Owen’s house and shut the door behind them.
*
I didn’t want to go home, and I couldn’t face the office, so I went to my favorite place for grounding myself, the greenmarket in Union Square. It was my taste of country in the city, and looking at all the fresh fruits and vegetables cheered me up a little. As frustrated as I was with Owen about his reluctance to research his past, I could kind of understand his fears.
While I was still in the market, a few drops of rain began to fall, then it quickly turned into a real downpour. Of course, I didn’t have an umbrella with me, though I probably should have known to expect rain, since Gloria had brought hers. I headed for home, jogging so I could get out of the rain sooner.
By the time I neared my building, I’d given up jogging, since I was already utterly drenched and getting there a few seconds faster wouldn’t make me less wet. As I drew closer to my front door, I noticed someone leaning against a lamppost, near where Owen usually waited for me in the mornings. I had to wipe the water and wet hair away from my eyes to see clearly. He was as wet as I was—or worse—and wore a baseball cap pulled down over his eyes, but I still would have recognized Owen Palmer anywhere.
He shoved away from the post as I approached and took a hesitant step toward me. I couldn’t read his eyes under the cap’s brim, but he gave me a hesitant smile before saying, “Sorry.”
“It’s okay,” I said.
Then he stepped into my arms and buried his face against my neck. I hugged him, rubbing his back while he clung to me. “I’ve been such a jerk,” he whispered into my ear. “I have no excuse for treating someone I love that way, and I want you to know that I do love you.”
He took a few deep breaths, then pulled away just enough to look me in the eye. “You’re right, you know. I have to deal with this, and I can’t hide forever. So, do you want to come to the fire station with me?”
“Sure,” I said, grinning in a way that must have looked foolish.
He reached out and took my hand. “Okay, then, let’s do this. You know where to go, so lead the way.”
Just as we turned to head for the subway, there was an odd magical popping sound, and Mack, the black-clad magical enforcer, appeared. His face was set into grim, cold lines, his lips narrowed to a slit in his face, and his eyes were hard. There was another man with him, also wearing black.
Mack stepped up to Owen. “Owen Morgan, also known as Owen Palmer, you are hereby taken into custody for examination on charges of conspiracy to commit magical crimes.”
Chapter Eighteen
