Empire of Lies by Andrew Klavan

no one can have sex with anyone else or whatever."
    "Right. No sex. That's how we get our magical powers."
    I set a plate in front of her and one for myself. I poured myself a mug of coffee and sat down with her. I said a silent grace.
    "All that stick-up-your-ass shit, it just makes everyone, like, crazy, you know?" Serena said. "I think anyone should be able to, like, fuck anybody they want to—it's no one's business."
    "Uh-huh. And how's that philosophy working out for you?"
    She had lifted her coffee mug to her lips with both hands and was just taking her first actual sip from it when I asked her that.
The question caught her off guard. She laughed. The coffee went up into her nose. She set the cup down, coughing.
    That was the first time I liked her, liked anything about her. I liked her for laughing at that, for realizing how miserable she was making herself and being savvy enough to laugh. It was the first I'd felt anything for her besides pity and guilt and maybe disgust. I laughed, too.
    But that made her angry—angry, you know, at having given so much of herself away. So she did that wonderful thing children do when they've unintentionally revealed their feelings: She pretended it hadn't happened, as if she could simply talk me out of having seen it.
    "Would you stop laughing at me all the time?" she snapped. She yanked at her nose where the coffee had come out. "I mean it. It's so fucking rude. You laugh at, like, everything I say."
    "You say funny things. I can't help it. They make me laugh."
    "It's like you don't take anything I say seriously. It's really fucking rude. How would you like it?"
    I was eating now, and I went on eating.
    "Well? How would you?"
    "You can laugh at me all you like, Serena. Then we'll be even. How's that?"
    She withdrew to the sidelines, grumpy and dissatisfied. So far, I was ahead on points, see. But, to tell the truth, it was easy to beat her at this game. I had a big advantage. I was a dad, and she'd never had a dad, not really. I understood the rules, and she didn't have a clue. In order to win, you had to be clear about what you wanted. I wanted information, enough information to figure out what was going on in her life, what my responsibilities were, what I should do next. She thought she knew what she wanted, but in fact she didn't. She thought she wanted to outsmart me and make
me look foolish and then get away from me and go brag about it to her friends. What she really wanted, of course, was for a grown-up to take charge of her and help her out of whatever jam she was in. She was working against herself and never had a chance.
    I went on eating, but I watched her, too. I could see her thinking, scheming—looking for a new line of attack because she hadn't been able to get a rise out of me yet. That's what teenagers do, you know, they probe for weaknesses. They're smart enough to see the world is not what it seems, smart enough to see that we adults are all liars and hypocrites and so on, but they're not wise enough to know what to do with the information. All they can figure is to use their new insight as a weapon, a way of short-circuiting the power of the big people: You lied so I don't have to listen to what you say; you've done wrong so you have no authority. It's an idiot's game but they're young and it's all they know. Hell, some people never learn anything else.
    Serena picked up a piece of toast. She examined it suspiciously as she thought things through. She nibbled at it, very delicate, very girly. There was another thing I could like about her. I approve of girly—especially in girls. Maybe she had enough woman inside her to make a lady out of, if anyone ever took the trouble. You never knew.
    The next minute, though, I saw a wicked look come into her eyes, a sly smile to her lips. I could tell she'd come up with a new way to get at me.
    "I remember something else my mother told me about you," she said.
    "Oh, yeah?" I said around a mouthful of eggs. "What's