“I went as far as I could go there,” Barabas said. “I’ll never be an alpha. I don’t want to be an alpha. I didn’t even want to be the lead counsel. I like problem solving. I like taking a crisis, breaking it into manageable pieces, and finding a solution. I don’t like the minutiae. I don’t like paperwork.”
“You like trials, though?” He always seemed really keyed up before the trials.
“The last trial I handled involved a custody dispute and the divorce of my mother’s best friend’s daughter and a human she married. The opposing counsel asked for copies of income tax returns for the last five years. We obliged and sent them to him. During the pretrial hearing, he couldn’t figure out where they were, and then he found the tax returns for the first two years, but not the last three. He claimed we didn’t provide them, which made no sense because he had the first two and they were all in the same packet. He speculated that they might have been lost in the mail, except we had hand-delivered them to his office. He’s standing there shuffling his papers, and I wanted more than anything in the world to rip him open and chew on his insides.”
I laughed into my cup.
“Standing still required such an effort of will, my hands actually shook.” Barabas smiled. “One of my professors in law school referred to this as the glorious drudgery of the legal profession. I’ve had all the glory I can stand. Working for the Pack was just that, working for someone else. It was the thing I did, while waiting for something else to come along. I was a glorified servant.”
“Barabas . . .”
He held up his hand. “I’m not implying that it was the result of something you or Curran did. It was simply the nature of the position. And there is honor in service to a greater cause. But I wanted something that was mine. Separating from the Pack would give me the chance to figure out what that something would be.”
“Makes sense.” Separating with us was about the only way a shapeshifter could leave the Pack and still reside in Atlanta.
“When I bought shares in the Guild, Curran and I became partners in an enterprise. ‘Partners’ being the key word here. We’re equal. We’re streamlining the Guild, hammering it into shape, and it’s working. Our gig load has been steadily growing by five to ten percent each month.”
He leaned forward, alert, his eyes bright and focused. “This is something that’s mine.”
I nodded.
“I like my work. I love the house I live in. I take care of Christopher. According to my mother, I’ve been a wild card in every relationship I’ve ever tried, always looking for someone to ground me, so being a caretaker is good for me. The point is, I finally enjoy my life, Kate. I don’t want this to stop.”
“Neither do I.”
“When things happen that threaten it, I get alarmed. I’m sorry I overreacted. The Guild is my thing. I own it, I nurture it, I make it grow. So I understand, Kate. This city is your thing.”
“I don’t own it.”
“And I’m relieved that you still hold to that. But the facts are as follows: You guard it, you protect it with your life, and you feel responsible for it. You want it to prosper and you don’t want your father to lay claim to it. Setting aside legalities and moral scruples, you own it, Kate, and when your father stretches his hand toward it, you freak out.”
“He has no right to it.”
“It’s important to remember that neither do you.”
I felt an itch under my jaw, an uncomfortable need to clench my teeth.
He was watching me very closely. “Is it difficult to come to terms with that?”
“Yes.” I should’ve lied.
“I think that’s how your father must’ve started. I realize it’s ancient history, eons ago, but he must’ve had a kingdom.”
Oh, why not? It’s not like I had to keep secrets anymore anyway.
“It was called the kingdom of Shinar. It started with the cities of Akkad, Erech, and Calneh. That entire region was a series of small kingdoms, all magically powerful and more or less equal, ruled by family dynasties. They were aware of other powers, as far north as France and as far south as the Congo, but they were content to stay in Mesopotamia. It was different back then. There were two more rivers, the climate was mild, and Mesopotamia was a beautiful garden.”
“Like Eden.” Barabas nodded.
“Not like. Eden’s river had four tributaries—Pison, Gihon, Euphrates, and Hiddekel—that united into a single river before rushing into the sea. The Euphrates is still there. The Hiddekel is now called Tigris. The Pison was a river that flowed all the way through northern Arabia, a place known to the biblical Hebrews as Havilah. It has since dried up. The Gihon is the river Karum, which is now a lot smaller than it used to be. These four rivers joined together into a single enormous river that had flowed through the valley of Eden into the Persian Gulf until the plain of Eden drowned. The kingdoms were powerful but even they couldn’t halt the Flandrian Transgression, when the glaciers melted and flooded the oceans.”
Barabas stared at me like I had grown a second head. “Kate. Are you trying to tell me that your family comes from Eden?”
“From that general vicinity.”
“So Roland, I mean Nimrod, is actually a grandson of Adam? Real Adam?”
I sighed. “Adam wasn’t a person. Adam was a city.”
He stared at me.