Logan clutched my hand in his, threading our fingers together as he brought our joined hands to rest on his knee.
“The other warlock in charge was Rego’s best friend, Maxim Rex,” he said. “He and Rego were the new leaders of the warlocks—the smartest, most effective leaders they’d had in centuries. Maxim Rex was brilliant. Fast. Lethal. And he was the logical choice to rule the Dark World—way more than Rego.” He paused. “Maxim Rex was my dad.”
I noticed he said was, but I remained silent, simply holding his hand and letting Logan continue his story.
“Rego and my dad believed that warlocks belonged in power—that this council wouldn’t solve anything but keep the warlocks from asserting their rightful place on the throne. So the plan was to get close to key members of the council, gain their trust, learn their secrets—and then slaughter them.
“It didn’t go as planned,” Logan said with a sly smile.
I gave him a questioning look, and he continued, a faint blush coloring his cheeks.
“My dad was apparently renowned for his—how can I say this?—other skills.” Logan coughed nervously. “He had quite a reputation, if you know what I mean.”
“Since he’s your dad, I guess we’ll go with the term heartbreaker?” I suggested, and Logan exhaled, relieved.
“Yeah, that works,” he agreed, giving me a grateful smile. “I can’t think of my dad as a player. I mean, the man wore turtlenecks.”
We both laughed, although Logan’s was more a nervous chuckle. “Anyway, my dad’s assignment was to woo the daughter of the Regent king. See what secrets he could wheedle out of her, and then kill her when she wasn’t useful anymore.”
Some memory tugged at the corner of Logan’s lips—a memory that was in stark contrast to the brutal story he was telling—because an adoring smile spread across his face.
“What happened?” I prodded him.
“What do you think happened?” Logan asked, sadness coloring his sentimental smile. “They fell in love. The demon princess and the warlock tasked with killing her. Also known as Mom and Dad.”
Logan’s eyes darted to mine, studying me for my reaction. Even though I’d assumed this was where the story was headed, it was still a shock to hear my boyfriend’s supernaturally scandalous parentage confirmed.
“That’s why my blood is that color. All Regents are some shade of purple, but only members of the royal line bleed that deep purple color,” Logan continued when I didn’t freak out.
I did my best to keep my face calm, even as I realized this meant Aiden was somehow related to him, and squeezed his hand to prompt him to continue with his story,
“As you can probably guess, their relationship didn’t go over well.” Logan frowned, his eyebrows pulling together as he ran over the next part of the story in his head. “Obviously my father wasn’t planning on killing her anymore—especially after they found out that I was on the way. But my parents were young and stupid and idealistic. They thought I was proof that we could coexist peacefully.”
Logan picked up my hand from where it rested on his knee, clasping it between both of his as he gritted his teeth.
“Yeah, right. Coexist peacefully, my ass. The news that I was on my way wasn’t exactly cause for celebration. The warlocks considered the infallible Maxim Rex to be a traitor. And of course, once the Regents discovered the plot to kill the council, they wanted to slaughter all the warlocks. So, my parents escaped. They abandoned everything, disguising themselves as regular humans to raise me here.”
Logan spread one hand around him, indicating our world.
“They left it all behind?”
“For me.” His voice was hollow as he spoke, guilt coloring his face.
“Logan, that’s what good parents do. They sacrifice for their kids,” I said, clutching his hands tightly. “They wanted to save you. They didn’t want you to be a part of that war.”
“No, they didn’t.” Logan pressed his lips together in a line. “But after Regents took my parents, I didn’t have much of a choice.”
We were both sitting cross-legged. I scooted closer to him so our knees were touching, and reached out, resting my palm gently against his warm cheek. He shut his eyes and leaned into my touch, folding his hand over mine before bringing our clasped hands between us again.
“Rego had kept in contact with my parents. He didn’t agree with my dad’s decisions, but he said he respected them. Maxim Rex—well, actually, at this point, he just went by Max, because it sounded more ‘human,’” Logan explained, emphasizing the word. “Anyway, Max taught Rego how to set up places like the apartment I live in now—areas that straddle both worlds. My parents wanted to keep tabs on what was happening in the Dark World—my mom especially worried about her family—so Rego would report back to my parents with any news from the other side.
“Nine years ago, there was a huge warlock rebellion on the other side. It was brutal.” Logan emphasized the word, letting out a low whistle. “The armies of both sides were nearly destroyed. The Regents won, but only barely. So, the warlocks were ready to reconsider the idea of a ruling council.”
Logan kept his eyes on our clasped hands, linking and unlinking our fingers, seeming to memorize the way they fit together as they rested between us. He inhaled deeply, steadying his breathing, and I knew whatever event separated him from his parents was coming.
“It was right after my eighth birthday. I don’t really remember a lot about being a little kid, but I remember that my parents threw me this big, elaborate party. It was like they knew it would be the last one. My mom sat me down and explained that she had to leave for a few months, that her family needed her. I threw such a fit,” Logan recalled with a short, bitter laugh. “I was a spoiled brat. My mom and dad had gotten me this radio-controlled car for my birthday, and they’d promised to take me out to play with it. I was so pissed that she wouldn’t be around to do it. Like I said, brat.”
“All kids are brats,” I said, squeezing his hand, and Logan gave me a grateful look.
“I was too little to understand what they were telling me. My mom and dad really wanted peace in their world,” he continued, his voice reverential as he spoke of them. “With no peace in that world, we’d have none in this one. Mom was a member of the royal family in charge, and she obviously had credibility for wanting an alliance between the warlocks and demons. So it made sense that she return to the Dark World to reassume her role with the royal family, and Rego came to stay with my dad and me, as added protection, since some Regents still wanted all warlocks to die, and vice versa.”
Logan abruptly dropped my hands, folding one arm over his chest and bringing his other palm to cover his face. He rubbed his eyes, and when he finally met my gaze again, his brown eyes were bloodshot and bleary.
“I didn’t even smell the smoke,” he whispered, his eyes resting on me but unfocused. “Rego shook me from my bed. I was coughing. My eyes stung, and I couldn’t breathe. He said we had to leave. Someone had given me this little backpack for my birthday. They told me never leave home without it—I think it had some kind of little kid tracking device on it. Anyway, I grabbed it and started throwing stuff in it. Mostly toys I had gotten for my birthday. A framed picture. The remote-controlled car. I was still grabbing stuff when Rego just picked me up and ran out of the house with me.”
We were sitting on a rooftop in the middle of Manhattan, but all I could hear was Logan’s uneven breathing as he told his story, the sounds of traffic and people chattering six stories below blending into a low, dull, insignificant buzz.