Sean slumped a little, then recovered. “Fine. But we can’t begin until Lucas gets here. As the representative of the Cortez Cabal, under whose protection Savannah falls, Lucas Cortez must be here to witness the proceedings. As her lawyer, he absolutely needs to be here, to represent her.”

Josef glowered at Agent Stein, who stood, tugging at his tie.

“Yes, under normal circumstances, that would be true,” Stein finally said. “However, your family has protested his involvement on the grounds that as her former legal guardian and current employer, Mr. Cortez cannot be expected to be impartial in this proceeding.”

“He’s not meant to be impartial,” Sean said. “He’s her lawyer.”

“Yes, well, the intra-Cabal agency has ruled in your family’s favor on this matter. Miss Levine will be represented by Mr. Turin, one of the agency’s legal team. As for the Cortez Cabal’s interests, we are attempting to video-link in Benicio Cortez, but we’ve encountered technical difficulties.”

“Technical difficulties, my ass,” Sean muttered. “All right then, we at least need to wait until those difficulties are resolved before we begin.”

“No, we have decided that Mr. Cortez can be updated as soon as the link is established.”

Sean stood there, staring at Stein, who wouldn’t meet his gaze. Then he dropped into his chair so hard the clunk reverberated through the room.

The intra-Cabal agency—or key members of it—had been bribed, and there was nothing we could do about it. My heart started to thud harder. This was real. I was on trial for treason.

The Nasts’ head lawyer stood, cleared his throat, and began. “It is alleged that Miss Levine was in charge of a detachment of the reveal movement, having joined the cause to aid her grand-sire, Lord Demon Balaam …”

“What?” I whispered to Sean as the lawyer continued reading the allegation.

Sean glanced over, his jaw tight. Adam reached for my hand, but pulled back, and when I tried to take his anyway, his fingers were so hot I had to bite back a yelp. He shot me an apologetic look, flexed them, and whispered, “We’ll get this sorted.”

The lawyer droned on. The upshot of the charge? I was secretly a member of SLM and had been getting information for them from the Cortez and Nast cabals—hence the treason charge. Together with my mother—whom Balaam obviously freed from the afterlife—I’d joined up with SLM in New Orleans and had been leading a terrorist cell to Atlanta. At that point, the Nasts swooped in, saved the day, and arrested my mother, me, and Adam, whom they suspected I’d duped with my version of the events.

“My version?” I said. “My version is that my mother was brought over by Shawn Roberts, to aid the anti-reveal movement, which Jaime Vegas will confirm. Lucas Cortez will likewise confirm that I was infiltrating the reveal movement when you ambushed—”

“Lucas is your former guardian. Ms. Vegas is your friend and his,” Josef said, ignoring the lawyers’ attempts to quiet us both. “She will say exactly what he tells her.”

“And your version?” I said. “Where did you get this supposed proof that I’m part of SLM? You killed everyone at that warehouse.”

“There was a survivor. A necromancer named Andrea Patterson. She’s told us everything.”

“Please,” Stein said. “You’ll both be allowed to speak.”

He motioned to the Nast lawyer, who continued. “Now, as this witness testified, Miss Levine and her mother …”

I didn’t catch the rest of what he said. Someone was speaking behind me. I glanced over my shoulder, but saw no one.

“—damned well better figure it out,” the voice snapped.

“You owe us …”

The voice faded again, but beside me, Sean had turned too and was staring at the empty space. The expression on his face …

I must have had the same expression on mine yesterday, when Shawn Roberts made my mother manifest.

“Dad?” Sean whispered. His gaze shot to me. “Did you hear … ?”

“It sounded like—” I swallowed. “It sounded like him.”

The air behind us flickered, like tiny lightbulbs flashing, so bright I had to look away.

“—either you’ll make this work or—”

The room went silent. Sean’s chair screeched as he got to his feet. I looked up.

A man stood there. Late forties. A few inches over six feet. Broad shoulders and a thickening waist, both held in check by a perfectly tailored suit. Thinning blond hair. Bright blue eyes. Sean’s eyes. My eyes.

Kristof Nast.

Our father.

TWENTY-FOUR

He looked exactly as I remembered him. Exactly as he had the day he died. The day I accidentally threw him against a wall and killed him.

His gaze went to Sean, and his stern face lit up in a smile so big it made my insides ache.

He reached for his son, but his hands passed right through him.

“Hmm,” he said. “Not quite what I was hoping for, but I suppose I should be glad they pulled it off at all.”

“Dad,” Sean said, his voice choked.

Kristof murmured something too low for me to hear. Sean responded. Then Kristof reached out again, as if to pat him on the back and said, “I’m hoping we get a moment later, but I don’t know how long the Fates can hold this for. I need to—”

“I know.”

Sean stepped aside. Kristof—my father—looked at me and gave me the same smile he’d given Sean and I stumbled to my feet, my heart hammering, thinking I killed you. You know I did.

It didn’t matter. He’d told me that before, through Jaime, but I hadn’t believed it. Couldn’t believe it until now, seeing it in his face as he came toward me.

“Savannah.”

He leaned toward my ear to whisper, “Your mom’s fine. Furious, but fine. I’m going to fix this for you. Okay?” He pulled back and met my gaze. “Okay?”

I nodded. He bent forward, air-kissing my cheek. Then he straightened, and strode across the room.

No one had spoken since he appeared. I think most of them hadn’t breathed.

He walked straight to his father’s table.

Thomas’s face was completely drained of color. He was shaking. One hand slid across the table top, slowly, tentatively, reaching for his son’s. “Kristof …”