Howl (Witches & Warlocks Book 4) (17 page)
Read Howl (Witches & Warlocks Book 4) Online
Authors: R. M. Webb
She nods appreciatively. “Is that why you requested that meeting? It seems like a year ago. The one that was interrupted by problems with Becca?”
I take a breath. Do I dive in? Do I go ahead and ask her about my parents? Ask about the missing pages? Do I care? I mean, how important is it, really? I realize that it’s both not at all important and incredibly important. Knowing the truth about where I come from won’t change a thing, but I can’t imagine continuing in this life without knowing. I’m tired of being incomplete.
“I was hoping you’d tell me more about my parents.” I tell her about what Becca’s dad said at her funeral, how he knew I was adopted. I tell her about looking up my parents, about discovering the pages torn out of the lineage books. “I know it’s not gonna change my life to know their story, but, I’d still like to know. To understand.”
Daya studies me. “I’m the one who pulled the pages from the books.” There’s a dreadful pause where she just stares me down and I’m afraid she’s gonna say something terrible like ‘and now I have to kill you.’ But she doesn’t say that. She takes a breath. Lets it out. “Zoe, your parents are alive.”
I can feel the shock on my face and can’t believe the hope that surges through me. I love the Tates. Why am I so eager to discover that Tara and Malichi survived? So eager to know them? “I wondered,” I say and Daya holds up a hand.
“I’m going to tell you the truth and you’re not going to like it.
Hope drains from me. “I’ve been learning a lot of truths that I don’t like lately.”
“Zoe, the Tates are your parents.”
I don’t know how to take that. “You mean Tara Archer and Malichi Dalton are made up?”
Daya shakes her head. “No. I mean the Tates
are
Tara Archer and Malichi Dalton.”
All my thoughts come screeching to a halt and then go spinning around like tornados in a trailer park. “Do they know?” I ask after a few seconds.
“They did.”
I crinkle up my face, not at all in the mood for cryptic answers. “What’s that mean?”
“After Tara got pregnant with you, they went into hiding. Cast a few spells to keep from being discovered. Stopped using magic altogether. Took on the identity of Helen and Joseph Tate. It wasn’t until after you were born that we found them.” She pauses, and I assume it’s for me to ask a question, but my mind is whirling and none have formed yet.
“Your birth was monumental,” she continues. “A child born of light and dark. The most powerful witch born in the last handful of centuries. There was such a disruption in the balance of magic that day, there was no way they could keep you from us.” She pauses and I try to digest what she’s saying. The most powerful witch in how long? “We found you while you were still at the hospital. Found Tara. Healthy and happy. Beautiful as ever. And then Malichi, dark and broody, but happy as well. And, well,” she looks uncomfortable. “You know the plan that came into being when we discovered what you were.”
I nod. “The Trinity and all that. The ranch.” I shudder. I still hate thinking that my existence was the reason for all those other kids having to go through what they went through.
“There was no way Tara would give you up. And Malichi was more dangerous than you’d like to know. We weren’t prepared to anger him. So…” She trails off and swallows. “We put a spell on them. So they’d believe they actually were the Tates. Forget themselves.”
“So you could use me without them getting involved.” I’m trying to keep emotion out of my voice, but, damnit, I’m getting really mad. I can’t believe that I hugged this woman not five minutes ago. That I sat here and joked with her about witch kings and queens and princesses. That I actually thought, if only for a second, that I might be able to trust her.
“Yes.” She doesn’t make excuses. Doesn’t try to explain further. Just says the word and waits of my response.
“How did Becca’s dad know I was adopted? Why did you even make them think they’d adopted me?”
“We thought the adoption story would help sever ties to their past.”
“I see. And Becca’s parents?”
“We wanted to test whether or not the spells were working. Got Lucy interested in the story of your birth. Created a little doubt as to whether or not you were actually Tara and Malichi’s daughter. It didn’t take long for Lucy to ask Becca to get her parents to ask about your birth.”
“And when they explained that I was adopted, it gave Lucy all the validation she needed to believe that I was the child she was looking for.”
Daya nods. “And it gave us the validation that our spells were still active and Tara and Malichi still believed they were the Tates.
“I see.” There’s not much else to say on this whole topic is there? Not while my emotions are busy flying all over the place, getting in the way of my ability to think clearly. “Will that be all?” I stand. Ready to leave.
“Zoe—”
“Please don’t. I’m sure I’ll swallow all of this soon. Digest it. Come to terms with it. But not right now. Do you realize that I can’t believe a single thing you tell me? That everything you say is a lie? That my entire life has been manipulated for your benefit?” My voice is raising despite my desire to stay calm. I hold out my hands and take a breath. “Am I free to go?”
Daya stands. Straightens her dress. Composes herself. “Of course.” She’s all business now and I’m fine with that. This woman is not my friend. She’s manipulative and has no qualms about messing with people’s lives to better serve her own purposes. I wouldn’t be surprised to learn she’s actually a psychopath. Without another word, I sweep past her and reach for the door.
“Zoe?” I freeze but don’t turn around. “The Tates are not to know the truth. Understand?”
The Tates. How very subliminal of her. I nod without responding and leave.
********
“Zoe?” My mother’s singsong voice lilts out of the kitchen and into the living room where I sit with my father and Noah in the house where I grew up.
“Yes, mother dear,” I singsong back to her.
She pokes her head through the doorway. “I hereby formally request your presence in the kitchen, darling.”
I smile and stand from my place on the floor near the tree. Follow the scent of snickerdoodles and coffee into the kitchen and wrap my tiny little mother in a great big hug. “Thanks for letting me bring Noah. Can’t imagine Christmas without you and Dad, but I couldn’t imagine a Christmas without him, either.”
She beams up at me and hands me a pot holder. “If ever anyone was going to capture my daughter’s heart, I couldn’t imagine someone I’d approve of more.” She opens the oven and slides out a tray of cookies. Hands it to me and slides another back in.”
“He’s pretty special,” I agree as I transfer the cookies to a cooling rack and wonder how long I need to wait until they’re cool enough to eat.
I’ve been wandering around this house since we showed up yesterday and my parents showed us to our rooms. Separate rooms, of course. As much as they approve of Noah, I don’t think they’re ready to approve of us sleeping in the same bed.
There are so many happy memories here. I mean, I couldn’t have had a more idyllic childhood. And to think it’s all based on so many lies. It just boggles my mind. My parents — Helen and Joseph Tate — are actually Tara Archer and Malichi Dalton. Powerful beyond imagination. And I’m the most powerful witch to be born in the last handful of centuries. Powerful enough to create some strange ripple in the force or whatever and allow Daya to find my parents despite their cloaking spell.
And here we sit in a modest suburban home, cookies in the oven. Stockings on the fireplace. A tree so large it’s overpowering the corner it’s been stuffed into in the living room, its branches filled with ugly ornaments made beautiful by good memories. Being here has made me less angry. Watching my parents who are still so clearly in love meander through their lives has given me a little perspective.
Maybe they don’t need to know who they are. Maybe they don’t need to know who I am. Maybe they’re fine like this. Together. In love. Loved by their daughter. Happy to see their daughter in love.
That’s not to say that I’ve forgiven Daya. She’s still high on my ‘thou shalt not trust’ list. Hell, let’s be honest. Everyone is still high on my ‘thou shalt not trust’ list. Everyone except Noah. I trust him. A lot. Enough to tell him the truth about my parents. Enough to bring him here. Enough to let him sneak into my bedroom at night after he promised we’d stay quiet enough to keep my parents asleep.
I slide two of the cookies off the rack, still so warm they fall apart a little in my hands. Wink at my mom as I take a bite and sigh. There are years of Christmas afternoons wrapped up in that taste. I pause in the doorway and watch my dad talking to Noah, both of them animated and confident, handsome and happy. Throw a smile over my shoulder at my mother and wander back into the living room and hand Noah his cookie, squeeze into his lap and plant a kiss on his lips for both my parents to see.
“Thank you,” I say into the surprised but happy silence.
“For what?” comes the response from three different people, almost at the same time.
I smile, gesture around the room, meet everyone’s gaze one after the other. “For this,” I say, and mean it with all my heart.
********
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Books by R. M. Webb
Witches and Warlocks series:
Whisper - coming soon!
Immortal Memories series:
Reclaimed – coming soon!
Also in the Immortal Memories Universe:
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