For a long, breathless moment, we were both too shocked to move or speak. Inwardly, I cursed myself for getting so absorbed in my reading that I hadn’t heard him coming. If I’d heard him, maybe I could have stuffed some of the more interesting pages into my pockets for later perusal.

Dad snapped out of it first, stepping fully into the room and slamming the door behind him. I winced at the sound, then reminded myself that I was an adult, not a six-year-old girl.

With what I hoped was cool aplomb, I closed the folder and tucked it back into the drawer, then stood. I was a full head taller than my dad, and we looked nothing alike. When I’d been a kid, people had always commented to my mom that I was her spitting image in everything but height. No one had ever said I looked like my dad, but I’d always assumed that was merely a gender thing. Now I realized the true reason. Even so, as I stood there and watched him trying to absorb the indignity of my intrusion upon his sanctum sanctorum, he still felt like my father to me. The little girl in my core wanted to apologize, to finally see a hint of approval on his face, but it wasn’t going to happen.

“You have some nerve,” he said when he recovered enough to talk. His voice was highly controlled, but I could hear the fury in it anyway.

I crossed my arms over my chest and leaned back against the cabinets behind me, pretending to be a hell of a lot more relaxed than I was. “Nice to see you, too, Pops,” I said.

I think I saw a wisp of steam rise from his ears. “What is the meaning of this?” he demanded, and the look on his face said he was seriously considering taking me over his knee again.

I managed to swallow the laugh the mental image conjured and just shook my head at him. “You know the meaning as well as I do, assuming you spoke to Mom before you came in here. And if you’re planning to go the denial route, don’t bother. You conveniently kept the results of the paternity test filed for me to find.”

His face turned red with anger, but it seemed he wasn’t in the mood for a good knock-down, drag-out. “Get out” was all he said.

“What else is in those files?” I asked, not about to budge. “I saw Cooper’s letter about the ‘desperate measures’ the Society would take if you decided the brainwashing wasn’t working. And I can’t help connecting those desperate measures to my stay at The Healing Circle that very same year.”

“I said get out!”

“I heard you. But like I told Mom, I’m not leaving until I get the answers I came for. So you’re either going to answer my questions, or I’ll help myself to the contents of my file.” Or both, actually. It wasn’t like I’d trust anything he told me under the circumstances. Still, I wouldn’t mind getting the Cliffs Notes before I got started on the heavy reading.

When he didn’t start talking, I began to bend down for the drawer. He grabbed my arm and yanked me back.

“You’re leaving now,” he informed me, and tried to pull me toward the door.

“The hell I am.” I spread my legs and flexed my knees to give myself more leverage, and he couldn’t budge me.

Anger still flashed in his eyes, but the expression on his face turned to stern paternal disapproval. “Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to be. You have no right to paw through my personal records.”

“They’re my personal records, from what I could see. And yes, I definitely do have a right to see them. Now let go of my arm before I show you how difficult I’m capable of being.”

His grip tightened to painful proportions. “There’s nothing in there you need to see. Let the past stay in the past, where it belongs.”

Was that a hint of desperation I saw in his eyes? I didn’t much care. With a twist and a hard yank, I freed my arm from his grip and once more bent for the drawer.

“Morgan, stop it!” he said in his most commanding voice, but I ignored him.

My fingers had just closed on the folder when my dad grabbed my arm again. I whirled on him with a snarl.

And turned my head right into the fist that was coming for my face.

I doubt I was out very long, but apparently it was just long enough for my dad—possibly with my mom’s help—to drag my unconscious body out onto the front stoop. I was just struggling back up through the blackness when the door slammed loudly, followed by the sound of locks clicking shut.

A couple of passersby in the street gave me curious looks, but this being the city, they kept on walking. A sweet little old lady stopped to ask if I was all right and offered to dial 911, but I managed a smile and declined her offer. Behind the closed door, I could hear my parents’ voices raised in argument, but I couldn’t understand what they were saying. Just as well, no doubt.

Feeling disconnected with reality, I fingered the bruise that was forming on my jaw as I walked. Who knew my dad packed such a punch? Other than the occasional spanking when Andy and I were growing up, I’d never seen my dad hit anyone before. Never even seen any sign that he might be capable of hitting someone, even when he was madder than hell. My feelings might have been hurt if I hadn’t remembered the sound of desperation in his voice. He’d tried everything he could think of to keep me from delving into those files, until he’d realized he wasn’t getting me out of that room without resorting to violence.

And that told me that there was more in those files he wanted to hide. Much more, if he was that desperate to keep me from looking.

Unfortunately, I didn’t think I was getting in that front door again. Not unless I broke in.

I wasn’t opposed to bending the law here and there. But for all my wild, rebellious childhood and adolescence, I’d never broken into a house before. I hadn’t the faintest idea how to go about it.

Of course, I did have an officer of the law I could call on for help. And I had no doubt Adam could get in the house if he wanted to. Hell, I could file a charge of assault against my father, and Adam could “investigate” it.

As tempting as the idea was, I nixed it before it took hold. I’d never had any warm, fuzzy feeling toward my parents, and I had even less right now. But I knew from cold, hard experience what could happen if I sicced Adam on them. My stomach tightened as I remembered Val’s scream when Adam’s whip had torn through her flesh. And I thought I might heave when I remembered the sickening crack of her neck breaking in his dispassionate hands.

No, the relationship between me and my parents wasn’t all flowers and bunny rabbits. And yes, they possibly had information I needed to learn. But never again would I willingly give someone over to Adam.

I stopped by a Chinese take-out place on my way home. My first inclination was to get two meals and kick Adam out of the apartment as soon as I got there, but I decided that was too bitchy. He had, after all, spent the afternoon babysitting my brother. I could muster up a scrap of gratitude in the form of a free meal.

I half-expected to find my apartment looking like a war zone, but everything was just about how it should be when I stepped in. Adam reported that the afternoon had been uneventful. No one had stopped by, and the only phone call had been from my mother, who wanted me to call back so she could apologize for Dad’s behavior. Yeah, like that was going to happen.

I told myself I was relieved as I dropped the bag of takeout on the table and headed for the kitchen in search of plates. If Raphael had shown up, he probably could have beaten Adam in a fight. According to Lugh, he and his brothers were of an elite class, more powerful by far than most of the demons who walked the Mortal Plain—including Adam.

But though I was glad no disasters had occurred while I was gone, I couldn’t deny that my heart sank just a little lower on realizing that yet another day had passed without a word from Brian.