Garlic Is For Vampires (#Wattys2016)

Chapter 24: Family Tree

The next morning, the social worker who helped my parents adopt me called. Because adoption was kept confidential, and because I wanted to know who my father was, it took some persuasion for her to give me my record. And I couldn't bribe her because she just sent back my check. Until finally she caved in after my numerous emails and phone calls and text messages.

"His name was Mason Cast," she said over the phone. "But he died ten years ago."

I froze in mid-stride. "What?"

"He's been dead for over ten years, hon. He died from leukemia. I'm sorry if you wanted to know more about him. But I'm afraid the cancer took him a year into chemo. I can look for your biological mom-"

"No, I only wanted to know about him. Thank you. But can you send me my file?"

"Yes, I'll mail it to you. And good luck with whatever you're doing, Bree. Be good and...stay safe."

I hung up and clenched my phone tightly in my hand. Then I pressed my knuckles against my mouth and stared down at the street through my bedroom window. My last and probably only source of information wasn't even on this world anymore. Now what was I supposed to do? It seemed more important when Dylan was alive, but Dylan was dead. It wasn't as important as before. I frowned. No-it was important. It was to me because I wanted to know what my father knew and what I had to do with all this. Dylan came after me for a reason. Even though he's no longer a threat the truth was to me.

I bit down on my quivering lip and got ready for work instead. I took a taxi since walking still really wasn't an option for me. It was warm out, but I left the window up. My hand was a fist against my mouth, and I bit my knuckles to keep calm. He was dead. I didn't care much about my biological parents, but I cared about the truth. My father knew something-was involved in something-and now he was just dead. It was a cruel joke. Maybe this was from the universe, slapping me in the face, telling me it didn't want any help ridding beasts, because it put them here on planet Earth with us for some unknown, goddam reason. Life was just a cruel joke on the good.

I paid the driver and got out, slamming the car door with a little more force than necessary. I hopped into the store and threw my bag down before going to Rosemary and asking her to give me an exhausting task that would take me hours to complete.

That meant making sample books and cutting strips of fabric. I threw myself into the task head on. I worked my anger out, tearing out chunks of fabric from the strands of material I was working with. I had to get my mind off the fact that I would probably never know the truth. Where else was there to look for the truth? I doubted my birth mother would be of much help-I didn't want to bring the social worker into too much work before she started wondering what I was doing searching for my parents. I just needed to cool off.

I was losing my focus on the task at hand. I grabbed a roll of thread and began stitching the cut material into the paper on the book in front of me. Things would be better. They'd be fine. But I wouldn't be. I desperately wanted to know why my father was involved in this. But I had no lead.

Later, as it was getting close to closing up shop, Brendon came in. I was sitting at the counter making another order of silk and velvet because...people liked silk and velvet. I was closing up shop and it seemed that Brendon could feel my emotions oozing out of me like pus out of clogged pores-which sounded disgusting, exactly how I felt-so he was wary when he came to stop in front of the counter.

"Are you okay, Bree?"

"Dandy." And just that one word in my clipped tone gave me away. How? I wasn't sure, but since Brendon was a detective, he would know. So was I surprised when he raised my chin and made me look him in the eye.