Silas Morgan stood there for a long time.
After a while, he finally fished a cigarette from his pocket, leaned against his car door, and took a slow drag.
He could understand Jasper Sherwood's resistance toward them.
After all, Jasper had been old enough to understand things when they left Valengard. Besides, he had been smart since he was a child; it wasn't as if he wouldn't remember his own family.
The fact that he hadn't sought them out after so many years meant that, in his heart, he no longer considered them kin.
Even when his own sister was seriously ill and short on money, he had never thought to ask them for help.
A heavy feeling settled in Silas Morgan's chest.
He used to be powerless to protect his older sister. Now he had the power, but his sister was gone.
Silas pressed a hand to his eyes, as if that could stop the stinging, burning sensation.
'But why are my fingertips wet?'
He stayed downstairs from Jasper Sherwood's apartment until nightfall.
