I saw him to the door, packed the cooler back into the fridge, and walked to Cornelius' office. He wasn't in it.
I could request Rogan's profile.
What if he said no?
More importantly, did I really care if his genes aligned with mine or did I just want him the way he was, without any qualifiers?
Yes. I just wanted him.
I returned to my office and checked my laptop. Bern wasn't up on the family network. I pushed the intercom. "Does anybody know where Bern is?"
"He left with Cornelius to check something out," Leon responded.
"Where is everybody?"
"Your mom is with Grandma helping her in the motor pool. The control freak and evil incarnate are in the control freak's room."
Control freak and evil, huh. Someone was sore about something.
"What are they doing in there?"
"They won't tell me. Something happened on Instagram. I looked at their accounts, but I can't see anything."
Ah. Leon had the curiosity of a cat. When you locked him out, it drove him nuts.
Everyone was busy. It was just me and Leon. The stars had aligned. I sighed.
"Come to the office."
"Why?"
"I'll tell you when you get here."
I unlocked the small gun safe I kept hidden in the bottom drawer of my desk and took out my Sig 210 and a magazine.
Leon sauntered into my office and flopped into my client chair, a picture of teenage apathy.
I showed him the magazine. "Eight rounds, 9mm."
Leon's eyes lit up. He leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the gun.
"Manual safety. The barrel is machined from a solid block of steel. It's an older gun, but it's durable, reliable, and it's very accurate. That's what I practiced with and that's what my dad shot."
I pushed the gun and the magazine toward him. He swiped it off the table, slid the magazine into the gun, and sighted the hallway with it, all in one blink. One moment the gun was on the table, the next it jumped into his hand.
"Get a holster," I told him. "And a zip-up hoodie. I shouldn't see the gun under your clothes. I'm going out and you're my backup."
He leaped out of the seat and took off. I sighed. This was probably the wrong thing to do. Leon would turn seventeen in twelve days, right behind Catalina, who would be eighteen in three. I still needed to buy them both a gift. The way this was going, Catalina would end up doing trials right on her birthday. All the holidays were screwed up this year. First Christmas, now her birthday, and probably Leon's birthday. Ugh.
In a year, Leon could legally enlist in the military, where he would be given a firearm and conditioned to use it. In a year and a half, he could be out in the field, killing people left and right. Nothing magical happened to separate your eighteenth birthday from your seventeenth. You became an adult, but you didn't feel like one.
It's time he knew. We couldn't shelter him forever.
I pulled out my phone and texted Bern. Where are you?
Checking on a lead with Cornelius. Where are you?
Asking about what lead would spark a chain reaction of explanations, and knowing Bern, he'd start with him getting up this morning and then spend the next twenty minutes presenting it in a logical fashion.
Going to see Edward in the hospital. Leon's with me. Be careful.
We will.
I texted Arabella. What's going on with you two?
Alessandro Sagredo followed Catalina on Instagram. She's freaking out.
Who the heck is Alessandro Sagredo and why did his name sound familiar?
I pulled my laptop closer and typed in the name. Alessandro Sagredo, second son of House Sagredo, Antistasi Prime . . . Oh. He was the Italian Prime the Office of Records was bringing in to test Catalina's magic.
So he followed her on Instagram. What's the big deal? He's going to test her in the trials. Tell her it's nothing weird.
She's FREAKING out. I'm trying to calm her down. I may have to get wine. Or pot. Can I buy some pot?
No.
It's medicinal.
No pot or I tell Mom.
Leon reappeared, wearing a loose blue hoodie. He was lean bordering on skinny, and the sweatshirt hung on his sparse frame. He could've hidden a bazooka under there and I wouldn't be able to tell.
I fixed him with my serious stare. "You're going as my backup. I don't expect trouble, but if it happens, you shoot only when I give you the order. If you fire before I give you permission, I'll never take you with me again, and I'll make sure you don't get anywhere close to a gun for the next year and a half. Do we understand each other?"
Leon frantically nodded.
"Good."
The head of Edward Sherwood's guard detail stared at me. He was a stocky, muscular man who looked like he could run through a wall, and he was doing his best to be intimidating. I had a feeling I was supposed to wilt under that stare.
"We won't be surrendering our firearms," I told him.