Devil in Disguise (Kai Parker)

Chapter Thirty-Three: Too Much

It was a rare thing when your captors knock before coming into a room. Especially if that captor was Tyler Lockwood.

“Can I come in?” he asked, opening the door a crack so Meg could see a strip of blue T-shirt.

“Okay…” she said slowly and suspiciously, flicking her book shut. He came slowly into the room, bundles of papers gathered up in his arms, and watched her silently. His eyes jumped up and down her, and he was biting his lip in consideration. Just as Meg was about to snap at him and ask what the hell he was doing, he nodded and flung the papers at her.

She tried to grab them in the air, but without her magic her reflexes were worthless. They surrounded her like a freak snowstorm, a mess of white sheets and black ink. Confused, she looked at Tyler. “Are you trying to drown me in paper, or something? Is this some new torture tactic?”

“No,” he said, clearly annoyed. “They’re documents. Birth certificates, receipts, credit cards, marriage licenses…”

“Whose?” she picked one up, and looked at the name. It took a while for what she was seeing to catch up with her, but as Tyler spoke the words aloud, everything slid into place… well, mostly.

“Kelly Stuart.” he watched her beadily, trying to gauge her reaction. She tried to remain neutral, but her lips started to wobble as she took in more details. Date of birth, all her addresses, her late husband… a picture of her, looking old and frazzled, but still unmistakably her mother.

“Why do you have my mother’s private documents?” There was a stiffness in her tone that should’ve kept Tyler from making stupid comments, but as usual he was perfectly oblivious.

“A better question should be: why are you not mentioned in one of them?” he picked some up off the carpeted floor and threw them at her again. This time she made no effort to pluck them from the air, and just watched them stonily. “There is nothing here that says Kelly Agatha Stuart had a daughter. A husband, yes, but they were childless, and he died several years ago. So, why do you go around claiming that this is your mother?”

“How did you get my mother’s documents?” she gritted her teeth and glared at him with more hate than he’d ever seen from her. She couldn’t think about that right now; she had to know why her past was all of a sudden being shoved in her face.

“I was the mayor’s kid. I have some pull around here.” he sat down on the bed disturbing even more papers so they rustled and crackled like dry leaves. “Now, my question: why –”

“We are not playing games this time, Lockwood.” she said angrily, grabbing several sheets and fighting the temptation to crumple them. “Why? Why are you doing this to me now? I’ve been trying to forget this for years. Why are you so interested in my past?”

“Read them. Read them, and you’ll see.” he said mysteriously, and Meg lost her temper. She snatched her battered old trainer from her foot and threw it at him as hard as possible. With the reflexes of a football player, he dodged it, and threw her an infuriating look of pity before ducking out the room. For a while, the only noise was the click of the lock as he left.

Fury steadily grew in her, and with one swipe of her arm she sent all the papers flying to the ground. She had spent years and years trying to forget all this, all of her guilty past, and now, she had been plunged into it by someone that irritated her beyond all belief. Her mother looked up at her from the ground, skin browner than she ever remembered and eyes familiarly glassy. It looked like her drinking habits hadn’t disappeared with her daughter. All Meg could see were court cases for drunk driving, indecent public behaviour, missed bills, hospital admissions…