AFTER LUNCH, HUGH ESCORTED his mother into the library. He waited for her to sit and then sat on the chair next to hers.

“You must need a favor,” she said crisply.

“Why do you say that?” It was amazing. She always knew when he wanted something.

“You’re just like your father.”

That hurt. “Whatever do you mean, Mother?”

“Now, don’t be angry. Everything about your father wasn’t bad.”

Untrue. His father had been a colossal ass.

“All I meant was that when you want to lecture me, you sit behind your desk. When you need a favor, you sit near me. Your father used to do the same thing.” She leaned forward and continued in a hushed tone, a twinkle in her eyes. “You may want to shake that routine up a bit to keep Viola on her toes.”

Gruntshit. He did do that. “Fine. I do need a favor.” He couldn’t believe that he was left with this as his only option.

She patted his hand. “What do you want?”

“Can you still contact Birdie?” Growing up, his house had always had some poor creature who needed assistance. His mother had a gift for making everyone feel loved but he couldn’t stand the Avion. The last time that he’d encountered Birdie, the damned creature about snapped his finger off for some unintentional insult.

“Why?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Don’t give me that look. I need his assistance finding the escaped Producer—“

“Trinity,” she corrected.

He wanted to roll his eyes, but that would end this conversation. “Trinity,” he conceded. “Before Benedictine does.”

“And how do you plan on using—”

“Mother, why is it always using when I want assistance from some creature but not when you do?”

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“I don’t know. You tell me?” Her tone was icy.

She was angry, and something else. He studied her. Disappointed. In him? He was used to that from his father, but never her.

“The question was rhetorical. I need to contact the Handler and I don’t want to wait until Gaar comes into town for his medication.” He’d received word that the Handler had picked up the serum a few days ago. It would be weeks, maybe even a month before Gaar returned. He was only supposed to use the Tracker and Handler for jobs sanctioned by the Council or the Supreme Almighty himself, but if he took the time to go through the proper channels Benedictine would have already captured and killed the escaped Producer. Besides, no one would find out about this task. Gaar didn’t speak with any of the other Almightys. The Handler had no interest in anyone but Mirra, except to hunt and eat them.

“He and that Tracker are dangerous creatures,” she said.

“I need their help. Will you contact Birdie or not?”

“If I do, you owe me.”

That stung. She’d never resort to those tactics with Tim. “Quid pro quo, Mother? I didn’t know you had it in you.”

“How do you think I survived being married to your father for thirty years?”

He ran his hand through his hair. She deserved an award for that. “What do you want? Before you answer, remember that I’m doing this for Trinity’s benefit. If Benedictine finds her before I do…” He shrugged.

“Promise me that you’ll take care of Timothy, Millie and Trinity,” she said.

“Sure.” That was easy.

She grabbed his hand. “No. I mean it. They have no one besides me who they can trust. I need you to swear that when I’m gone you will make sure that they are kept safe.”

Her hand was cold and frail in his grasp, the bones small and brittle. It struck him like a blow to the chest; she really was dying. He would give her anything in his power but he wouldn’t lie to her. “I can’t promise that. If Trinity really is their daughter then this is big. Bigger than me. I don’t know what will happen.”

“I’ve been telling you all your life that they are not so different from us. You never listened. You’d cite your studies and scoff at me.” She squeezed his hand, to soften her words.

“They are different. Just because two different species can mate doesn’t make them like us.” She’d never understand.

“We are not unique. Why won’t you accept that?”

“Mother, everything we know—”

“Son, I’m dying and it’s not going to be long. I need you to promise me two things. First, make sure that Tim and his family are safe. Second, dig deeper into your studies, but this time do it with an open mind. Remember, someone wrote the facts that your science is based upon. Start from the beginning. Perform your own experiments. The way we live cannot continue.”

“I’ll do my best. It’s all I can promise.” She wouldn’t want his lies. He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

She patted his hand, tears welling in her eyes. “I’ll contact Birdie.” She stood and walked to the door, stopping with her hand on the door knob. She faced him. “When I’m gone, remember that I have always loved you. My son.” She touched her heart and turned whispering as she left, “Forgive me.”

He stared after her for a long time. What did she mean by that?