Cryptic Pathway by C.L. Carhart

Author:C.L. Carhart
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: age gap, dark fantasy romance, demons, elemental magic, fairies, fated mates, older man younger woman, paranormal romance, time travel romance, urban fantasy, witches
ISBN: 9781954807075
Publisher: C.L. Carhart
Published: 2021-12-10T05:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty-two:

Devastation

As if I did not have enough going on already with the secretive Keyholder, the city bonds pulling me away from my one true love, and my Teuton girlfriends’ separate battles—now my cousin had reappeared out of the blue and blushed like a young teen at the prospect of chatting with my father.

I had not realized that he had an ICQ number.

Was that his new tradition in the evenings, when he shut himself away in his rooms after dinner? I had imagined him watching TV, reading books, talking with his buddies—his usual pastimes. But apparently, he had developed a relationship with Beth in his downtime.

My first instinct was to unload my frustrations at Beth, to accuse her of using my father as her rebound guy. But I knew that I ought to step away and think, even get some rest while my cousin flirted online with a man old enough to be her father. With a wealthy widower. With her uncle-by-marriage. With a full-blooded Teuton.

If I ever want to be able to manipulate my element, I’d have to do it the other way . . . .

“That can’t be why she likes him,” I told myself after flopping down onto my bed. “It can’t be that. She’s not that selfish. But she’s wanted to be a Teuton ever since I first told her about my ice. I shouldn’t have told her that Teuton blood can be raised through elemental sex . . . wait. Did Pappi tell her what his element is? I don’t even know his element!”

A geyser of salty tears erupted from my eyes, and ridiculous sobs contracted my chest. This was too much. When we ate together not long before, I had begun to believe that Beth and I were on our way to restoring our friendship. We had been best friends since I first met her at age five, when my parents sent me to New Jersey for a year to immerse me in an English-speaking community. We had tackled childhood milestones together: our first crush, our first roller coaster, our first campout, Beth’s first full-length novel.

And now she had something going on with my father. That was why she had not replied to any of my emails, why she told her parents to make excuses for her whenever I called. It was not out of anger at me or at Joel, and it was not due to her health. She feared what I would say once I learned that she might know my father better than I did.

Have they been talking about Teutonic magic? Has she started breaking down the walls he built after my Mutti died? Did she . . . did she tell him about our trip to the past?

I cried until my tears ran dry, then lay on my stomach gripping my pillow, staring blankly at the wall. My horror and confusion gradually found itself a new target—my father. Why had he kept this from me? Had he feared that I

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