My heart seizes in my chest when I see that my dad is calling me. My eyes snap to Jack, who's standing at the stove, making me breakfast. I swallow hard and am tempted to decline the call, but I know I have to take it.
"Hey, Dad," Jack turns around, eyes wide. "How's it going?"
"Well, when I waited up for you and you weren't home at midnight like I said," his tone is low, and I realize just how much shit I'm in. "I nearly called the police."
"Dad, I can explain-"
"No need for that, honey," his tone suddenly changes, and he laughs.
"Hi, Riley!" I hear Peter's voice in the background, and I give Jack a bewildered look.
"Dad, what is Mr. Miles doing there?" Jack turns off the stove and stands beside me, looking just as shocked as me. Dad laughs again on the other line.
"Peter came over this morning and told me everything," I stare at Jack, stunned. "About the Were attack and that you're healing nicely." And he's just going to casually say that he now knows all about the world I've just encountered? What the hell?
"Dad, I-" Jack's face is white, and he looks petrified.
"It's alright, honey," Dad says before he clears his throat. "I sent Karen and Jessica off for the weekend. As soon as you and Jack eat breakfast, I think you should come home. There are some things that we need to talk about." Now it's my turn for my face to turn white.
"About what?" Dad doesn't answer right away before he sighs.
"The truth about your mom," there's a roar in my ears, and Jack looks at me, confused. "Just text me when you're on your way, okay? No rush. I love you, Riley."
"I... I love you too, Dad," I end the call and stare at the screen.
"What is he talking about?" Jack asks, dumbfounded. I meet his confused and worried gaze.
"I... I really don't know," I swallow hard, and he touches my arm gently. My hands already begin to shake. "I came home from school one day to find the house completely destroyed. It had looked like we had been robbed, but nothing was taken," Jack takes my hands in his, squeezing them reassuringly. "I found my mom..." my lip trembles, and my eyes fill with tears. "I found her in her greenhouse with a dagger in her back," Jack wipes my tears for me as I continue. "We rushed her to the hospital, but there wasn't anything they could do. They said the blade had been coated in some kind of poison, and it killed all her red blood cells." I meet Jack's gaze, and he looks shaken.
"Do you remember what the dagger looked like?" He asks, voice low.
"The handle was brown, but it had weird carvings on it. It looked handmade," I say, sniffling. A dark look flashes over Jack's eyes before his eyes grow distant. I stare at him before waving my hand in front of his face.
"Hold on," he mutters to me, and I take my hand back. A moment later, his eyes focus on me.
"Let's hurry and eat," he walks around back to the stove and finishes cooking the eggs. I remain silent. Why did he look so distant? Was he thinking of something? And why did it matter what the dagger looked like? Jack places a plate of eggs and toast in front of me and gives me a soft smile.
"Thank you," I say, and he grins, coming around and kissing my temple as I begin to eat. He sits down next to me, not eating, with his hands folded on the table. I look over at him, and he's got his eyes closed.
"What are you doing?" I ask after I swallow a bite. Jack looks at me, opening his eyes.
"I'm talking to my dad,"
"What?" Jack chuckles.
"When a Were belongs to a pack, they can communicate with its members via a pack link. It's basically like a phone call, but," he taps his head. "With your mind."
"No way," I reply, and he laughs. My face burns at my ridiculous response, and I turn back to my food.
"As I said, there's still a lot you need to know, but there's just too much to explain in one day," Jack says with a sigh. I nod and continue to eat. Once I'm finished, I take my plate and put it in the sink just in time for Jack to return with my shoes. I smile at him as I take them and put them on.
"Ready?" He asks, grabbing his coat and handing it to me. I look at him, bewildered. I'm already wearing a few borrowed clothes and I have no idea where they came from. Jack said they belonged to a relative and that it was okay for me to wear them. My original clothes were covered in so much blood that they were unsalvageable. My shoes, on the other hand, were given a quick rinse and scrub and were as good as new.
"What about you?" I ask as I take the coat. "Aren't you going to wear something?" Jack chuckles and shakes his head.
"Nah, the cold doesn't really bother me too much," he chuckles, and I slip on the jacket, my hands disappearing as the coat literally hangs off of me. He laughs, standing in front of me and adjusts the collar.
"You look good in my stuff," he remarks, and my face burns. He leans down, pressing a kiss to my lips before taking my hand and leading me out front. I quickly shoot my dad a text telling him we're on our way. Jack heads for his motorcycle, and for once, I'm actually okay with it. He hands me the helmet.
"You need to wear a helmet too, Jack," I chastise as I get onto the bike. He chuckles and shakes his head before getting on. I waste no time wrapping my arms around him and resting my head against his back. He looks over his shoulder at me, a smile on his face as he starts the bike. He kicks the kickstand up and turns the throttle, and then we're off to my house.
My mind can't help but jump to the worst-case scenario. Now that I know all about the supernatural and magical world, my mother's death is being questioned. I always assumed she was murdered, but the police had no suspects, and there was no evidence. And every time I asked my dad about it, he would tell me he was too tired to talk or that we would discuss it at another time.
And now? Now that he knows about this mysterious world, he's more than happy to tell me everything? We pull up to my house, and I see a large black SUV parked behind my dad's car. I know it's Peter's from the paw print sticker on the back window. How to make it not so obvious. We dismount the bike and walk hand in hand to the front door. I open it and see my dad and Peter sitting on the couch, each with a beer in their hands. College football is playing on TV. When my dad sees me, he smiles and gets up.
He gives me a tight hug and then pulls me back, taking my injured arm into his hands.
"Does it hurt?" He asks, and I suddenly realize that no, it doesn't. Peter, seeing my confused look gets up and comes over. He takes my arm from Dad and inspects it. Even with it in its cast, I wonder just how much he can see. His eyes meet mine.
"It doesn't hurt at all?" I shake my head. "No aches, no sharp pain?" I shake my head again. Peter looks at my dad. "I'm going to call my wife, Lilly, over and have her look at her arm. Her arm should still be broken."
"Mom gave her the spring water last night," Jack says, and Peter nods.
"Yes, but even for a human, her arm should still be broken," we look at my dad, who has a hesitant look on his face.
"I.. I might be able to explain," bewildered I stare at my dad. He waves us to the couch where I sit next to him with Jack on my right. Dad turns to me and takes my hands with his, giving me a reassuring smile, his familiar and kind green eyes a comfort.
"I'm sure they've told you about the magical world, yeah?" My eyes snap to Peter, and he nods before I look back at my dad.
"How do you know about it?" I ask, and Dad nods.
"Your mom," he chuckles. "She was a mage." I stare at my dad, in complete shock.
"A mage?" I repeat, and he nods, squeezing my hands.
"She called herself a nature mage. She could manipulate the environment and the elements around her using her magic," he smiles at me. "We hoped you possessed her gift, but nothing ever manifested."
"Was... Was she killed because she could use magic?" I ask, and Dad looks at Peter. We turn our attention to him.
"I believe that, yes," I suck in a breath, and Jack touches my arm as my eyes fill with tears. "I've been working with your father for years trying to figure out who did it." My eyes snap to Dad.
"You already know him?" Dad nods.
"I didn't know he was Jack's father until he told me about a girl who looked just like you being attacked on his land," he chuckles. "I never thought our lives would be connected even further until he told me that Jack is your mate." My face heats up at that, and I look at Jack, who smiles at me.
"Which I'm grateful for, actually," Dad smiles at me. "I haven't met a Were who doesn't protect their loved ones with their lives and give them all the love in the world." Jack squeezes my arm, and I can't help but smile at him.
"But, about your arm," I look back at my arm as Dad takes it in his hand. "I know about the spring water, your mom would use it for her herbs and plants. She told me all about its healing effects and how it reacts to humans. But Peter is right, your arm should still be broken and healing, but if you aren't feeling any pain..." he trails off, and I meet his gaze.
"What?" Dad looks at Peter.
"If she did possess abilities like her mother, could they have stayed dormant until put into a stressful situation?" Peter leans forward in his seat, eyebrows together in thought.
"I suppose it could be possible," Peter looks at me. "We have an elven mage friend who can do a ritual on her to find out."
"I'd like her to take off the cast so we can see," Dad says. "Can we ask Lilly if that's okay?" Peter nods, and his eyes go distant for a few minutes. Dad smiles, reassuringly at me, but I don't feel reassured. I just found out my mother could use magic, and now I might be able to use it too? I would be losing my mind if it wasn't for Jack rubbing soft tender circles into my arm with his thumb and keeping me grounded. Peter's eyes focus back on us, and he nods.
"She said it was fine, but if it's still broken, then we need to take her back to the house," Dad gets up and heads for the kitchen. I hear a few drawers open before he brings back a few knives and scissors. He comes back over to me, taking my arm and beginning to use the scissors to cut through the cast. It isn't your typical cast. It's thick, sure, but it's rock hard like other casts usually are. After a few minutes of work and using all the things Dad brought over, my arm is free.
Everyone's eyes are on me as I turn my arm and wrist, flexing my fingers and bending my elbow.
"There's some stiffness," I say. "But no pain." My hand runs over the soft skin, and I realize there are no scars. Seeing my bewilderment, Dad touches my arm too.
"There are no scars, Peter," Peter gets up and comes over, crouching down and touching my arm. He has a puzzled look on his face.
"The water heals, but doesn't negate scarring," Peter looks at me. "No pain?" I nod again, and he begins to squeeze my arm, hard enough to palpate my bones.
"Everything seems okay," he says. "If it's alright with you, Riley, I'd like to get my elven mage friend over here and do a ritual on you." I swallow hard.
"What would they do to me?" He chuckles and takes his seat.
"Nothing invasive," he says. "You would drink a potion, and it would enhance any magical abilities you have if you have any, of course."
"What would happen if I do have... Abilities?"
"Well, there are different types of mages," Peter explains. "Your mother was a nature mage who could manipulate the environment and the elements. There are healing mages who can heal people and animals, transportation mages who can teleport, and, finally, there are mind mages who can use telekinesis ."
"However," Peter continues. "There is another class of mages that we haven't seen in a millennium, though the possibility that you have that is pretty low."
"What is it?" I ask, and Peter takes a deep breath.
"This mage can use every class of the mage; nature, healing, transportation, and mind. We call it The Gift because it's so special," he sighs. "Though it is very dangerous if not properly trained and managed." A heavy silence fills the room, and I look at my now fully healed arm.
"If you do possess a class of the mage," Peter proceeds. "We can train you. I have mage friends who would be more than happy to take on an apprentice."
"And if I don't want to be a mage?" Peter gives a sad smile.
"I'm afraid there isn't much of a choice in that," he says, and I feel a little dreadful. "The way we see it is that the Goddess has given you a legacy. It's a gift, and you must treat it as such." I look at my hands and nod.
"I'll go contact my elven mage friend," Peter stands up, taking his phone out of his pocket. "Jack, would you accompany me, please?" Jack gives me a reassuring smile and kisses my head before following his dad out the front door.