“Is that so? Then tell me, what led you to find this place?”
“I'm looking for my– Steven Riser.” She nearly gave herself away. She was lucky to never have wanted to pursue a career in acting because she was extremely bad at it.
“Well, I'm afraid that you're about two days late.” She watched as Jame's face fell. He dropped his head into his hands and sighed heavily. When he finally looked up, she could see barely contained tears shining in his eyes.
“Please sit down, Kennedy?”
“What?” She asked incredulously.
“I knew that I recognized your face, you look so much like your mother and your eyes, how could I have not recognized those eyes?” He asked himself, his tone wistful. No one had ever told her that she looked like Teresa.
“You knew her?” It was a redundant question that just came out on its own.
“Yes, I met both of your parents when we were barely adults. They actually met each other here.” He added.
“They did?” Her insipid questions kept on coming.
“Yes, they were married in the great hall and you were born a few months later.”
“Here? I don't understand, my birth certificate said I was born in–” She stopped speaking as he nodded.
Her birth certificate named the town that she had been born in, not the place and it actually said the name of the town that the Golden Archer was situated at. It was she that had assumed that it had been at a hospital.
She had let her sentimentality stir her mind elsewhere. She had gone there to find Steven and that's what she was going to do.
“So you knew that he wasn't my father then?” James nodded again.
“Yes, Teresa's family in Spain sent her to us. Her sister had just married my brother and they thought that this would be the safest place for her to be, judging by her condition.” The way that he said, “condition”, let her know that it was something more than just her being pregnant.
Kennedy wanted to know about her mother's younger years. But, first she needed to know about the man that she had grown up believing to be her father.
“Do you know where he went or if he's coming back?” She drew attention to the subject of her missing Steven once more.
“He's out hunting with my brother, Joseph. They're usually back in just a couple of days, so I'm guessing that we'll be seeing them soon. Does Steven know about Teresa?” Kennedy shook her head.
“How did it happen?”
“I came home to find her dead.”
“How did she die?”
“She was killed by a shadow.”
“How do you know this if you weren't there?” He asked doubtfully.
“I killed it.” Kennedy had enough common sense not to bring Damien into any of it.
Archer might be a family friend – hell they were actually related by marriage – but, he was still a hunter and Damien was probably his favorite kind of game.
“How?” He was clearly interested in her answer. She watched him place both of his elbows on the desk and intertwine his fingers as he leaned forward.
“Athame to the chest.” She didn't elaborate. He didn't pry.
“Well, well, it looks like you've got some hunter in you after all. Steven told me that you hadn't been trained.” He sat back, reclining into the leather chair again.
“I was fighting for my life.” And Damien's, but he didn't need to know that.
“Either way, there aren't many girls that could do something like that while still untrained and live to tell the tale. I shudder to think what you could accomplish after you've actually been taught.” Taught, trained? He made it sound like they were in some sort of battle camp and not a safe haven like Damien had described the place to be back when they where leaving the Windmill to go meet the Cougar Lady.
He had said that it was a place where every kind of creature, no matter their origin or nature was offered security and protection in cases of emergencies like their own. But, if it was founded by a family of hunters, how unbiased could it be?
Damien had also told her that no harm could come to her while she was within the grounds and look at how well that had turned out. Although, her thumb did heal rather quickly, too quickly for it to have been a normal thing.
“You will be safe here.” James assured her and explained how the spell that regulated the place worked.
Anyone was allowed in, as long as they harbored no ill will towards any of the place's inhabitants. Once inside anyone who purposefully caused harm to anyone would be magically expelled from the grounds.
He also explained that there was a loophole around the no harm clause of the spell. You could be able to hurt someone without actually meaning them harm. Like if you needed medical attention and they needed to operate – there was an infirmary in the main house – they could cut and stitch without a problem as long as it was done with the intent to help.
There was also a training center where she could learn how to defend herself against all kinds of supernatural dangers and even partake in a bit of what Archer called, “friendly sparring.”
All of that explained how Dante had managed to hurt her. What she still couldn't wrap her brain around was the reason why he hadn't done it to hurt her if he was truly evil in his heart. A question that would have to wait until they met again, if they ever did.
She wanted to inquire after the reason behind Dante's presence in his office yesterday, but that would open an entire line of questioning that would lead to Damien's involvement being revealed and she wouldn't have that. She was just anxious to understand. Because Damien had said that Dante was the one leading the shadows that were after them, but if he had been waiting there for them all along, then why wasn't she dead yet?
“You must be patient, Kennedy. All will be cleared when Steven returns from his hunt.” James voice reminded her of where was.
Frustration crept back into her. She was tired of being told that all would be right when Steven came back. She had heard it so many times already that she was sure that her subconscious had internalized, recycled and was ready to reuse it any time now.
She would break her own mouth if she ever heard those words coming out of it.
“For the time being, you will be moved to a new room. One on the resident's wing of the main house. You're family after all.” Kennedy groaned as she realized what that meant. She was probably related to Brittany by blood.
“Am I related to the girl that brought me here?” She asked James.
“Well, yes. Brittany and her younger sister, Marina, are your aunt Veronica's daughters.”
“Great.” No! How could she be related to those people? An entire family of women that stayed at home and made themselves pretty while the men were out risking their lives by hunting nightmares.
“It's a real pity that you've never met them before. I'm sure that Marina and you would get along splendidly.”
“Yeah, pity.” She didn't really think so, but she wanted to leave. “Can I go now?”
“Yes, yes, I'm sorry. You may leave the room, but not the compound.” He informed her.
“Okay.” She accepted her house arrest well enough. Her father would be there soon.
“This is your home, Kennedy. You're free to do as you wish in it, within reason.”
“Thanks.” Home? She didn't have a home anymore.
“One more thing.” Oh, come on! She was hungry and she had already agreed to stay put. Why couldn't he just let her go?
“Yes?”
“No more Lauren Torres, you'll go by your real name from now on.”
“Fine.” She begrudgingly cumplied and walked out of there before he could think of anything more to say.
Kennedy toured the halls and passage ways for such a long time that she thought that she had gotten lost in the castle-like house.
Every hallway looked almost exactly the same as the one before it. She wouldn't have been able to tell the difference if it weren't for the unique a
bstract paintings that lined the walls. At least Brittany's bad taste in artwork would be useful in helping her find her way around the place.
She was in the middle of shaking her head at a bad depiction of two people intertwined in a loving embrace when the echoes of voices in the distance reached her ears. Kennedy walked towards the sounds.
The smell of something like chicken stew slapped her stomach around and she remembered that she still hadn't eaten breakfast.
She did like the fruit hoops bird and followed her nose until she had found her way down to the mess hall. She knew it because it was labeled with big bronze letters that stuck to the wall at the top of the archway that formed its entrance.
“Food!” Kennedy exclaimed as she made her way through the archway.
What appeared to have once been extensive cellars were now the heart of the dining area. The refreshment bar to the right, opened onto a pretty courtyard with a few small tables settled on it and the mess hall, with it's many rectangular tables, had a beautiful view of the forest beyond.
The serving bar was to the far left of the room. People were lined up with trays in their hands to get some food. She made her way towards the end of the line.
A wooden frame chalkboard hung in the wall behind the buffet table. In it, the word Cuban was written in both English and Spanish. She thought it weird, but not as weird as the almost black rice that she saw in one of the serving trays when she looked down at the food.
Super. Breakfast was already over but at least she had made it in time for lunch.
“It's congrí.” A feminine voice came from behind her. It made her almost fall into the