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“Rachelle, you don’t know everything. Gavin is wounded. He’ll get himself killed trying to protect me.”
Well, what about Evan?” she asks, concern on her face.
“He—” I stop, backing away. “H–how do you know about Evan?”
She swallows, only the sound of the river surging around us.
“Um. Because I’ve worked with him before. He’s a favor dealer. He might be able to help you.”
Bullshit.
“You’ve worked with him before?”
“Only occasionally. I had no idea you knew him…”
“You’re lying.”
“No, Hellena. Things are more complicated than you know. Please, just come with me and I’ll explain everything.”
“Explain it now.”
Rachelle’s lip twitches, her nostrils flaring. “There are things about your father, our family, that you need to know. We’re members of a sort of group that’s been around for a long time.”
“You mean the Sinful.”
“Yes. They are the power behind the leaders in Sanctum Harbor. And we, I mean your father, was one of them. Seven bloodlines.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that Damon was the head of the Sinful.”
I stare at her, stupefied. I can't think straight.
The puzzle pieces are all out in front of me, but I’m missing something. “Damon, my real dad, was one of the Sinful? But he’s been gone for years.”
“He was running things from the shadows,” Rachelle explains like I’m four. “He left Sanctum so no one would find out about him, or about you and your mother leaving. When he died, I swore to him that I would take you in if you ever made it back, to raise you. Train you.”
“Train me?”
“You’re next in line to take his seat, Hellena.”
“That’s absurd.” Ringing deafens me as more questions bombard my brain. One thing stands out.
“If what you’re saying is true, you’ve been lying to me. For eight years.”
The fact doesn't hurt me as much as it should.
What really bothers me is the fact that her reactions all click into place in an odd way.
How calm she was with the Holy Ghosts when they held her at gunpoint.
She knew about Gavin, his real name, his past.
She clearly knows about Evan, who he is and what he does.
“Hellena—”
“I need a minute,” I gasp.
