Becoming Magical [2]

C H A P T E R - 4 4

"I let you out of my sight for a few minutes and you go and almost die again," Meredith said, her words like a hammer pounding on her brain.

Sophie forced her eyes open—and immediately closed them as the light burned too bright. She tried to speak, but all she could do was cough and hack, which made her realize her body ached in about a million places.

"Hey, easy. I'm not joking about the almost dying thing. Some wrinkly dude brought you here and said he'd almost lost you—twice—but he thinks you're okay now. Well, other than a truckload of pain, which he said he can't help you with because your mind needs to stay 'unaffected' by any medicines for at least twenty-four hours. Any of that sound familiar?" Keefe said.

"Bits and pieces," she managed to rasp between coughs.

"Good. Then maybe you can translate for me, because he kind of lost me at she almost died. Pretty sure Grady's going to kill us when we bring you home like this."

"I'm fine."

"Uh . . . you can't see what I see. You've got this whole sweaty, slightly green thing going on—not to mention this wicked bluish-purplish splotch on your hand."

Sophie ripped her eyes open again, and when they'd focused, she stared at the huge bruise from the needle. Add it to her list of reasons why she never wanted to see a syringe again.

"I'm fine. They had to give me limbium to fix me, and then a shot of some human medicine to stop the allergy."

"Sounds . . . fun."

"Yeah, it's awesome to be me."

She tried not to think about the other things Mr. Forkle had told her about her genetics, but it was hard to do with Silveny transmitting, Friend! Sophie! Friend!

"You're really fixed, though? Like, you think you'll be able to help . . . ?"

He didn't say the name, and Sophie didn't want him to. Not until she knew for sure. "I don't think I'll know until I try and see what happens. Did Mr. Forkle give you any other instructions when he brought me here?"

"He gave me a tiny, sealed scroll—said it was for Grady or Elwin. Who was that guy, by the way?"

"The guy who posed as my old next-door neighbor to keep tabs on me around humans. And apparently he's the guy who made me."

"Made you? So, like . . . he's your father?"

"I—I don't think so." She'd never considered that.

Could he be?

He was a Telepath. An impenetrable Telepath.

And he created her.

And he cared.

She shivered so hard her teeth rattled.

She refused to believe it. A father would never play with his daughter's genes the way Mr. Forkle had. And a father would never be able to leave her half-drugged and alone on the streets of Paris—even if he did believe she'd be okay. Nor would he drop her off on the hard ground of a cold cave with nothing more than her friend, a flying horse, and a scroll, after she'd almost died—again.

Unless he was the worst father in the world.

Then again, Grady and Edaline had let her risk everything to find the Black Swan. . . .

"Hey, you okay?" Meredith asked as she curled into a ball.

She didn't want to know any more horrible things about her past or who she was. It just kept getting worse and worse.