Again, Patrick missed Gabriel’s tone entirely and turned to face him, as if he only needed to explain more clearly. “When she came back, you were in college and well on your way to a successful life. I wouldn’t allow her to interfere with that. So I helped you.”

“The time to help me was when I was a child,” Gabriel enunciated slowly. “Locked in a cubby while she screwed men for drug money.”

Now Patrick really did flinch. “I had no idea—”

“Of course you didn’t. You’d washed your hands of me. I don’t believe you actively ignored the abuse—you simply didn’t open your eyes and look. If you had, you might have seen something inconvenient.”

“It wasn’t like that.”

“Then tell me what it was like.”

“I kept an eye on you. Remember I gave you that hint for finding the last gargoyle?”

“You—you gave him the hint—” I sputtered.

Gabriel’s hand on my knee stopped me. “If you paid Seanna to stay away, then I suspect that was to save yourself further inconvenience.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Patrick said.

“Then, again, please explain.”

Patrick walked to the bookcase and began re-shelving a stack.

“I’m not asking you to explain why you seduced a seventeen-year-old drug addict,” Gabriel said. “You’re fae. It doesn’t mean the same.”

“I didn’t—” Patrick stopped himself and fussed with a book, straightening loose pages in the old tome.

“All right,” Gabriel said. “There was likely little seduction required. Perhaps she convinced you she was older. Perhaps she was clean at the time. Whatever the case, I’ll accept that she was a willing participant in the affair.”

“There was no—” Again, Patrick cut himself short. He took a book from the shelf and scanned, as if looking for the proper spot.

After a moment, Gabriel’s hands clenched, ever so slightly, and he drew in a small breath. “I would like to understand the circumstances regarding my conception, and why you left me with a teenaged addict for a mother.”

“I did, all right? I take the blame. I made mistakes. I apologize. Is that what you want?”

“What I want is an explanation. I believe I’m entitled to one.”

“No, you’re not.”

I bristled and rose. “Gabriel is—”

“I have never asked you for anything, Patrick,” Gabriel said, his voice low. “Even as a child, when you offered to tell me where to find the last gargoyle, I refused. Now I am asking for something.”

Patrick shook his head and took out a small stack of books, laying them on the table.

“Damn you,” I said, shoving the books aside as I planted myself in front of him. “Your son is asking for words. That’s it. Words. You’ll damn well find the basic civility to answer—”

“Stay out of this, Liv,” Patrick said. “It isn’t your concern.”