Chapter 13

The room went out of focus.

My whole life, I’d been told an accident had killed Monique. Not the clan. And not for necromancy. Now it made sense. Dad supporting me when I didn’t want to join the clan business. The clan fighting so hard to keep me with them. Only one part didn’t quite fit. “Why didn’t they kill me too?”

Dad shifted his cup around on the counter. “They didn’t know. I didn’t know for sure until you raised Bubble. Even then… a goldfish is a small thing when you think about it. I’d hoped that as long as your power had an outlet, you could contain it. It was easy enough to hide Bubble or to convince people he’s a construct.”

“Is it inherited?” I couldn’t bring myself to say the word. It felt like even speaking it would bring the clan to our door.

“No, necromancy requires a connection to the dead.” He motioned toward my leg. “I thought it was a birth mark when you were young, but it’s your connection, the bridge that allows you to raise them.”

Rolling up my pants leg gave me time to think. As a child, I’d accepted the two-inch-wide strip reaching from my ankle to knee on the outside of my left leg was a birthmark without question. It was only later I realized most people’s birthmarks were nothing more than discoloration. “Is that why I can’t feel anything there?”

“Yes, the nerves are all but dead. Just enough function to keep the flesh alive. She must’ve done it as soon as you were born, because I don’t ever remember you being without that mark. Your mother’s mark was on her shoulder, and she complained it made it hard to use her right arm normally.” He swirled his mug. “I don’t know if you remember, but when you were four, you sliced it open. It took weeks to heal properly. I was sure you’d be discovered.”

My fingers brushed across the line. That part of my leg felt colder than the rest. The spot seemed almost mocking. The mother I’d never known had cursed me to a life of fear and likely an early death just so I would share her power. “You didn’t stop her.”

“I thought—” He stopped and shook his head. “We’d discussed the matter. I was under the impression she wouldn’t make you like her. Monique often said her mother had dammed her. I don’t know why she did it.”

She’d made sure that the legacy had continued. I, for one, wished she’d left me alone. What little I knew of the history of the women on her side was of my grandmother’s early death. As a child, I’d thought it odd and scary. Knowing what I did now, it terrified me to my bones. How long could I hide my necromancy now that I could raise humans? How could I have a normal life while always wondering if someone would figure out what I could do?

Everyone feared or hated necromancers. There were tales of necromancers being able to raise armies, control the undead, and being impossible to kill. Long ago, they’d changed the tide of wars, but that wasn’t why they were killed now. The real problem was personal. No one wanted to see their loved one as a shambling nightmare. Even before the clans had started killing necromancers, they had short lives.

Monique had passed her curse on to me. The only thing I could do was learn to control my power and never use it again.

“Can you teach me? Teach me how to keep it hidden? I don’t want to die like she did.”

He shook his head. “I don’t have your abilities. But a year after she died, a package showed up. It was addressed to you from her. Let me get it.”

“A grimoire?” I wasn’t sure if I hoped he said yes or no. Witches were notorious of leaving traps and tricks in their spell books in case they fell into the wrong hands.

“We’ll find out.” He forced a smile before heading into the living room.

I trailed behind him, taking a moment to study the family picture in the short hall between the rooms. I’d been about twelve, and all of us had stood stiffly, not yet sure what to think about our new family. The witches took notice, and not in a good way, as did other shifters.

Next to it was a picture from shortly before I had gone to college. The smiles had come more easily, and we’d looked like a unit. That was the picture I’d made a copy of to take with me when I had moved out.

Through the arched doorway, dad knelt by the fireplace in the living room. A flat-screen tv filled the space above the mantel. The rest of the room was dominated by the two couches on either side of the coffee table. Mom and Dad’s recliners sat in the corner to my left. Over the years, Mom had rotated the knickknacks on the shelves flanking the fireplace, but a small poorly sculpted cat caught my eye. It hadn’t been there last time I’d visited, but that she still had it meant the world. I’d given that to her as a wedding present. All these years later, with my fingerprints fired into the clay and not a hint of glaze anywhere on its body, the red-colored cat held a place of honor on the shelf.

While I’d been swept away by memories, Dad had moved firewood out of its cubby by the fireplace. He tugged his wand out of a wrist sheath and set about removing some of the bricks. A section about a foot square separated from the rest of the wall, and he floated it to rest against the fireplace. He touched his wand to the boards the bricks had hidden and whispered a spell. The boards split down the center and pulled to each side, revealing an aged cardboard box. Dad tugged it out and set it to the side while he put the wall back together.

Faded handwritten letters spelled out my name and this address. Long ago, the top had been taped shut, but now it was folded, and the tape had darkened and peeled away from the box. I wrestled it open.

Inside, an oversized letter addressed to my dad sat on top of a nondescript wood box. Age had given the box a dark, earthy tone. I couldn’t bring myself to touch it, so I switched my vision to see magic. The box was clear of spells, and if magic lurked inside, it was too well shielded to show through.

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Dad leaned over and gently picked up the letter with his name. He reached inside and tugged out a smaller envelope with my name in a delicate script. “Maybe someday I’ll share this, but some things should stay between husband and wife. Yours has the key.” He tilted the envelope so I could see the outline and then flipped it around so I could see the back. “Unopened.”

“You think this will help?” My hand shook as I took the letter from him.

“Only one way to find out.” He lifted the wooden box out and set it on the rug. Other than a small keyhole in one side, it wasn’t much to look at, which was all the better for hiding secrets in my view.

Once I opened this, there was no going back.

“If you want to be alone, I understand.” He gave me a look filled with regret and sorrow. “I’m sorry I didn’t protect you better.”

“I’m here. I’m alive. That’s an accomplishment. I’m surprised they didn’t kill you and me.” With the letter in my hand, my fear kicked up a notch. This is what had gotten my mother killed.

Dad pressed his lips together. “I owe you the whole story.”

“No lies.” After thinking one thing for my entire life I didn’t want to spend another twenty-four years believing in a different lie.

“Before I married Monique, I was part of the Docga clan. I joined the Bausen when I married Monique. It wasn’t until later I learned her mother had married into the clan, causing a ruckus.” He paused. Ruckus was likely an understatement. Witches were matriarchal. The men followed the women, with very few exceptions. “I found out after we met that your grandmother had been killed by a clan member. I’m not sure if it was widely known she was a necromancer. Monique waited to tell me of her legacy until she was pregnant with you. She swore she wasn’t using her powers.” He blinked and pointedly focused on the far side of the room.

“The clan found out when you were just a baby.” He cleared his throat and looked at me with watery eyes. “I don’t think they understood the significance of the mark on your leg. I couldn’t leave the clan, not without raising suspicions, and I prayed to the earth you wouldn’t be a necromancer.”

He held back the tears, but behind them I saw how much he loved me, how much he’d sacrificed for me, and what he continued to risk for me. If only his sacrifices had been enough.

“But I am,” I said. “And it isn’t only me or you in danger, but Mom, Brent, Drew, and Stacy.”

“I don’t know how to keep all of you safe.”

“Dad.” When he looked at me, I took his hands in mine. “I’ll do everything I can to avoid notice. If the worst should happen… they aren’t witches, and that should help, but come what may, I’ll protect them.”

“I can’t ask that or expect it.” He pulled away, shaking his head. “All of you are precious to me.”

“But only one of us is a necromancer.” I hurried to redirect the conversation. He’d never had favorites between us kids, but I couldn’t put my life above those of the rest of the family’s. “Maybe there’s something in the grimoire. Maybe Monique did something wrong. How did she get caught?”

He rebuilt himself, shoulders square, eyes dry. “Getting caught—that was her fault, in part. Her friend’s husband died a few days after you were born. Her friend couldn’t get over the grief. It wasn’t until the clan showed up at the house that I knew what she had done. One day when I was home with you, to give her some time alone, she took her friend and went to the grave. She raised him. After that, people noticed the change in her friend. One night after a few drinks, the friend let it slip. It didn’t take the clan long to decide the consequences.”

He sucked in a breath and pushed through the story. “At the short trial, I learned this wasn’t the first time. She’d raised pets, children, spouses, or grandparents for nearly a third of the clan. I don’t know how she got away with it for so long.”

Deep inside, a rage built, replacing all the times I’d wished I could know my mother, just for a day. Why would she risk her life, with a husband who loved her and a child to raise the dead? No amount of gratitude should’ve been worth that.

His voice was empty of any emotion when he continued. “They killed her that night. I was spared because there wasn’t any evidence that I knew of her activities. I even lied and said I didn’t know she was a necromancer. They spared you as well. The witches who hid Monique’s deeds were punished. Several ended up moving to different clans and the rest, well, their reputation in the clan hasn’t recovered.”

Near silence filled the gap between us. For me it would be days before I digested this, days I didn’t have before going back to work and covering up what I’d done. Maybe whatever Monique left would help, but considering the last two generations had completely failed to hide their abilities, I wasn’t holding my breath.

The clock on the mantel chimed as it ticked over to eight. Dad hardly moved.

I pushed to my feet, feeling a hundred years older than I had this morning. Memories and emotions had weight no matter what anyone said, and they sat like lead in the box. “They’ll be home soon.”

While I tucked the box and letter into my backpack, Dad reheated our hot chocolates. I called Tennessee Dragon Flight and arranged for Jolly to pick me up before joining Dad in the kitchen.

I sipped the cocoa and studied my father. The slumped shoulders hid the strength in him. Not every dad would’ve done so much to protect me. Not every dad would still protect me when it endangered the rest of the family. But I couldn’t figure out how to tell him that, so I went with the next best thing. “I love you.”

Dad pushed off his stool and wrapped me in a hug. “I love you so much. We’ll figure this out. There has to be a way.”

“If there is, I’ll find it.” Outside, a red light flashed, showing the outline of an amber dragon. “I’ll come visit the next weekend if I’m not on call.” Staying away might be safer for them, but they were my family, and I wouldn’t hurt them that way unless I had to.

“Text me when you get home.”

“I will.” I hugged him one more time, perhaps too tightly, and headed out the door.

Riding a dragon at night was a completely different experience. Under better circumstances, the distance from everyone else, combined with the cool wind and steady movement of Jolly, would’ve felt like an entirely different world than the one with all my problems. Of course, that would require my problems being something outside of me.

Jolly landed at the field with hardly a bump. I thanked Jolly and hurried over to the waiting cab. This late, the roads were empty, and the trip home went by in a snap. I got out of the cab, eyeing an unfamiliar car with local plates, and headed inside.

My feet felt ten times their normal weight as I slowly climbed the stairs to my apartment. Keys in hand, I plodded onto the last landing before my level. Two steps further, I realized the shadows were all wrong.

I jerked my head up and reached for my wand. My fingers had brushed the wood by the time my brain recognized the figure. A pretty figure at that, at six feet tall, with his blond hair long enough to give the casually windswept look.

“Kelsey.” His smile warmed, and he pushed away from my door.

“Jamie.” I didn’t return his smile. My high school love showing up unannounced couldn’t be a coincidence, not today. “I wasn’t expecting you.”

Jamie lowered his gaze. When he looked up, the smile was gone. “The clan sent me.”