I had to wait for any actual answers, however, until the butler made his daily appearance at the doctor’s house.

He seemed relieved to find that I’d woken up, but almost immediately amused when I gave him an impatient look.

“I presume you’re wondering about Mr. Ambrose?”  He shut the door behind him and took a seat next to my bed.

“In order to explain, I suppose I should back up a bit.  I’m going to tell you a secret – one that is highly guarded – but I know you’re an individual I can trust, so I’m not particularly worried on that account.”  He folded his gloved hands together.

“I am the eldest son of Roland Wright.  An illegitimate son, from the days he spent ‘sowing his wild oats’ or whatever excuse he had for what he did.  He paid for my care and education and gave me a job upon attainment of adulthood, with the caveat that my connection to him was to remain ever a secret.”

Wasn’t telling me this breaking that promise, then?

He continued without answering that particular question.  “Roland Wright may be my biological father, but we have never had a familial relationship.  He made that very clear.  Indeed, I’m fairly confident that part of the reason he chose to hire me wasn’t to give me a secure job, but to keep an eye on me and make sure I never told anyone my connection to him.  He underestimated my lack of interest in getting money or anything out of him.  I kept my job mostly because, at the time it started, he had just started to date Miranda, and I was aware of the implications of him getting married.  I might have younger half-siblings and this would be my only opportunity to get to know them.  If I had refused his employment, I would never have been allowed close.  So, I’ve served as a butler to my biological father and his wife for close to two decades now, all in an attempt to maintain some sort of relationship with my brother.  With Ambrose.”

His brows furrowed slightly.  “I was the one who first encouraged them to hire a bodyguard.  Nothing had happened at that point, but I was concerned it could, and I was also concerned for how lonely he was.  He did seem to enjoy having John around, but seeing him get badly hurt while protecting him, I think badly affected Ambrose.  He was hesitant to get close to Sara, and then she had her own issues, too.  You, I was glad for.  You provided him with companionship and excellent protection and even took things farther to ensure he had some measure of ability to handle himself in a fight, if necessary.  Something my biological father would never have allowed since he intended Ambrose to be raised as a blue blood, without any of the…messiness…that serving class people deal with.”  He rolled his eyes a bit.

“I heard your concerns about the syndicate and Roland and Miranda’s lack of response.  I trusted your judgment, so I may have…intervened a bit.”  He looked a little pleased with himself at my expression.  “I had knowledge of one of their members thanks to the servant gossip circles, and happened to know they were hosting a private party.  People don’t notice servants, when the servants blend in, so I was able to get into the party and, well…thin out the numbers of their leadership a bit.  I took inspiration from you and decided to poison several items that the party members were eating, enough to make a lot of them sick and kill several of their high-ups.  Dealing with the aftermath of that took them several years to recover, and I’d hoped it would be enough to make them forget about Ambrose, but apparently not.”  His expression faded into all seriousness.

“I’ve done my best to secretly train to handle sticky situations, too, just in case.  I don’t have the years and years of training a naga can claim, but I’d hoped that if worst came to worst, I could always step in and protect Ambrose myself if they didn’t hire someone else, or help you if I could.  I was concerned about what might happen if they fired you and then I got wind – through the gossip channels – that the syndicate was planning some sort of attack and I guessed it might be on you and Ambrose.  When you weren’t on time coming back that day, I took one of the other cars out and headed in the direction of Ambrose’s school.  I nearly ran into Ambrose, who was trying to flag anyone down to help.  He didn’t want to leave you there on your own, even though he wasn’t aware that you’d been hurt by that time.  By the time we got there, I was fairly certain you were dead, or almost there, to be honest.”  He looked grim, and a bit chagrinned, too.

“To my surprise, Ambrose didn’t even hesitate to jump in, just firing off the gun you gave him at one of the demons, so upset about you being injured that I don’t think he even thought about his own safety at that moment.  She ended up with a lot of lead in her head – he is a fine shot, you’ve trained him well – and ran off, though to be honest, I’d be a bit surprised if she survived, demon genes and all.  We didn’t find her body, though, so she probably did.  I, meanwhile, took care of the male demon.  He was already fairly damaged by your poison, so that made it easy.”

He smiled slightly again, but the smile faded almost as quickly as it came.  “While I restrained the demon, Ambrose tried to help you, and he was pretty distraught about what happened.  Like I said, I initially thought you were already dead and I honestly didn’t expect you to make it, given how – well, let’s just say it was fairly obvious the fight had taken a serious toll on your body.  Ambrose insisted we try, however.  Of course the police were called, and you were initially taken to the hospital for surgery, and Ambrose refused to let his parents not agree to cover all the costs of your care.  You were moved here after surgery, since this is a supernatural doctor’s place.  My understanding is you’re actually healing pretty well, all things considered, but,” he paused briefly, “there are some things that even surgery and fairy magic can’t heal.”

I was less concerned about that.  I still needed some answers, so I scribbled out some questions for him.

The butler took the pad and read them.  “Right, so…obviously, it was a bit complicated with the police.  We let them mostly handle the human attackers, but the male demon, we handed over to a supernatural facility, claiming there was another warrant out for his arrest, which would explain why he was being treated differently.  He’s refused to talk about the syndicate, but the humans who survived weren’t so reluctant, so they’ve basically given enough info to take the whole thing down.  The leaders scattered as soon as the story hit the papers – and trust me, a story about a crime syndicate attempting to kidnap Ambrose Wright definitely has been the story of the decade – and a couple of them have been tracked down, but the bottom line is the syndicate is broken and it’s only a matter of time before the others are caught, too.  We didn’t ever find the female demon,” he allowed, “but if she did survive, I imagine she’ll steer clear of Ambrose and you.”

Then he glanced at the last question, the main one I wanted an answer to, hesitating again.  “Ambrose was up front with the police,” he said slowly, “about his involvement in helping deal with the demons.  Well, he couldn’t admit fully to the human police what happened, but he did acknowledge that you’d given him a gun, taught him how to use it, and he fired on one of the assailants until she ran away.  Given that the police knew…it was only a matter of time until Roland and Miranda found out.”

Ah.  So…Ambrose was safe, it sounded like, but I could guess what he was going to tell me next.

“They’re willing to cover the costs of your medical expenses from the attack,” he informed me, looking reluctant, “although honestly, I think they mostly agreed because Ambrose wouldn’t take no for an answer and once the story hit the news, it might have appeared bad for them if they did otherwise.  But they wanted me to inform you that you’re fired.”  He really looked unhappy about that.  “For training Ambrose to defend himself.  And of course, they won’t allow Ambrose to see you.  They told him if he tried, they would refuse to pay your bills, so Ambrose gave in because he didn’t want you to not get the proper care you need.”

Fired, huh.  Well…that made sense, actually.  Given what I knew about them.

“I tried to talk them out of it,” he added gently.  “Particularly since you risked your life and almost died protecting Ambrose.  But they’re too upset about the training you gave him, even if it likely would save his life, and Roland is also arguing that you can’t even work as a bodyguard anymore, given your injuries.”  He winced a little as he realized what he said.  “Sorry, that sounds harsh.  I…I’m not sure if you’ll have to consider another career or not.  If it helps, they are giving you a generous severance bonus, more than I’d have expected from them, though I suspect that’s just in case news of you getting fired ever reaches the papers, since it might look bad.  But you’ll have time to recover and consider what you want to do now, if, err, you have to change your career.”

He wasn’t wrong.  I probably couldn’t work as a bodyguard anymore, but I might have to just wait and see what my capabilities were after I fully healed before I could answer that question.

“Also,” his voice got softer, “thank you.  For saving Ambrose, for being willing to protect him even if it meant your life.  I feel like you got the short end of the stick here, being badly and permanently injured in that fight and then fired on top of it, but I’ll tell you what Roland and Miranda won’t bother to say – thank you for saving Ambrose.  I know my thanks might not mean much given, well, everything, but I owe you for helping my brother.  I hope I can repay it someday.”

I shook my head slightly, before deciding that was a really bad idea since my head was debating exploding as a result.  Instead, I scribbled a single line on the notepad.

“Don’t worry about it, that was my job,” he read out loud.  His brows furrowed as he looked at me, a bit incredulously.  “Is that really all you saw Ambrose as, after all these years?  Just your job?  You seemed rather fond of him.”

My feelings weren’t part of the equation one way or the other.  At the end of the day, all that mattered was I had agreed to protect him, with my life if need be.  I’d done that, mostly, but one could argue that having him come running back to help me was kind of the opposite of that, so to be honest, I couldn’t entirely blame Ambrose’s parents for deciding to fire me.  And there was the whole change in my physical abilities, too.  Not being able to see out of one eye would be an issue, but the bigger problem would potentially be my hip and how limited it would leave me for the future.

The butler was right about one thing.  I was going to have to rethink my future.  A lot.

Ambrose is a good kid, I wrote on the notebook, ignoring the butler’s question.  Look after him from now on.  And please tell him thank you for saving my life.

The butler’s confusion faded a bit, apparently sensing in those words what I wouldn’t admit, either to myself or to him – that I was genuinely fond of Ambrose, job or no.  “I’ll tell him.  And Madden, I’m sorry things ended this way.  If you ever need anything, please look me up, okay?  I’ll do anything I can.”

I stared at the ceiling as he left, thinking.  This chapter of my life was closed, then.  I wouldn’t get to see Ambrose or his parents again in person, and if I had any further contact with them, I suspected it’d be through the butler.  For now, I should heal, and in time, figure out a new career.

I was a little disappointed I couldn’t say goodbye to Ambrose in person, and I almost thought about writing him a letter, before deciding that was too personal.  To Ambrose, I was just a bodyguard, an employee.  I wasn’t a friend.  Yes, I’d protected him, because it was my job, and he’d actually ended up protecting me, too.  I felt bad that he might have new trauma from seeing another person he was familiar with badly injured, like he had with John, but I couldn’t control his decision to come back with the butler and try to help me.  What I could do was bow out gracefully and not make this situation messier than it had to be.

I wouldn’t talk to the newspapers, I decided.  The nurse had already hinted that they wanted an interview with me, but I didn’t want to say anything that might be taken poorly against my employers – well, former employers, now.  I might not care much for Roland or Miranda, but I wanted to protect Ambrose from seeing negative comments on his parents and how they handled the situation, if I could.  I could do that much, at least.  Maybe comment only that I was grateful for their assistance while I recovered, because that would reflect well on them, but nothing else.  I would leave quietly and become just a memory in Ambrose’s life, one that would hopefully have all the bad parts fade in time.

And maybe, eventually, Ambrose would forget that I ever existed.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to rest again.  I had a plan, for now, to heal and then withdraw from the area.  After that, I wasn’t sure – but hopefully I could still find a future filled with other things I enjoyed.  Once I was better.

After all, this certainly wasn’t the end of my life.  I was grateful that I’d survived, and permanent changes to my body or no, I was going to make the most of this second chance.