“I knew that would be your position. That’s why I’ve been spending the past months gathering evidence to the contrary. In our first meeting, I’d like to lay out the facts, clear and simple. After that, we’ll have an honest discussion about how our offices will interact going forward.” She rises to her feet and steps in front of Xavier’s chair. “Are you ready for an honest discussion today, Mister Cross?” Her eyes flash red.

I grin. That was the verbal equivalent of a gut punch. I never pictured wrath as having a place anywhere outside the Arena, but Mom brings it to a whole new level. Go, Mom, go!

Xavier rises to his feet. “Senator Lewis, if it means we can actually get to work, then I’ll promise anything.”

Mom grips her elbows. “Anything?”

His eyes flare blue. “That’s what I said.”

“Then repeat after me. I will not use angelic influence.”

A muscle twitches along his jaw. “I will not use angelic influence.”

“Promise noted, Ambassador Cross.” She steps back to her desk and retakes her seat. “I’ll see you in a month.”

Xavier eyes her closely. “No, you’ll see me Monday.” Turning on his heel, he stomps out the door, slamming it behind him.

Spinning her chair around, Mom kicks the wall. “Exasperating!”

I sigh. I feel your pain, Mom. Nothing’s worse than a handsome guy with a snarky mouth and superiority complex.

Tim slowly opens the door and steps into the room.

“Is everything alright Senator? I heard noises.”

“Where’ve you been the past few minutes, Tim?”

“At my desk.” His forehead creases. “Filing, I think.”

“You didn’t see anyone walk past you?”

“No.”

Mom speaks in a low voice. “He used angelic influence. Hopefully for the last time.”

I rub my chin. It makes sense that angelic influence would work on anyone with a smidgeon of goodness in them, so long as the angel was powerful enough.

Tim frowns. “What did you say, Senator?”

“Nothing. I’m fine, Tim. Thank you for checking.” Mom watches her assistant step back toward the door. “Oh, Tim?”

“Yes, Senator?”

“There’s a cocktail event in the ballroom downstairs after work. Would you like to go and have a drink with me?”

Tim smiles. “Yes, Senator Lewis. I would.”

Ugh. That might answer the whole ‘which ghoul is my Dad’ question.

They continue to speak, but their bodies become sand again and slip back into the earth. For the rest of the night, I dream that I keep trying to cook the perfect worm soufflé. It’s freaking nasty.

10

When I open my eyes, one thought flashes through my mind: my dad may be a ghoul named Tim-29. It lines up with everything I learned from Mom and my dreamscapes. It’s just really depressing.