Page 27 of Cerulean Truth
I thought it best to be as honest as possible. After all, someone assists you in getting away with attempted murder, they might be deemed trustworthy, wouldn't they?
In a subdued tone, I confessed, "I'm...scared. I have no idea who I am in your world. I know so little about that place, and if your world can't provide any answers about what I am, I'll be an oddity, an outcast, a scientific experiment, a failure." As I voiced my deepest fears, I found myself stammering, and I couldn't help but curse my spontaneous inability to maintain composure. Normally, I was far more collected than this. Why was I sounding like a blithering idiot?
Expecting James to try to reason with me, convince me of the unlikelihood of anything bad happening to me in his warm and cozy witchy world, he surprised me by promptly gripping my shoulders more forcefully than I anticipated.
He took a deep breath and spoke with unwavering conviction, leaving no room for doubt. “I promise you, Emma, I will never let anyone hurt you or use you. You won’t be a failure, and you most certainly—” he swallowed and shuddered in disgust, “will not become an experiment. I will protect you but I can only do so if you’re close. I can’t protect you out here in the Human World.”
The moon shone bright as it lit our path through the park. The shadows of the trees seemed to embrace our bodies and while James’s silhouette was cloaked in darkness, I sensed an inexplicable pull toward him, gawking at him with sultry eyes, wanting to feed on the metaphorical light he projected so clearly.
My heart was pounding, and my body was reacting to only the idea of being “close” to him, being protected by him…Good gods, I had to squish this crush immediately, it was getting embarrassing. I knew the guy for five minutes. What was going on with me?
He released my shoulders as quickly as he had grabbed them, and we resumed walking. I could still feel a tingling sensation in the spots where his hands had made contact. I tried to focus on the zillion questions I still had, attempting to redirect my thoughts away from the sensations coming to life a little more south.
“How did you get to me so fast tonight?” I whispered, trying to convey as much thankfulness as possible into one short sentence.
His jaw flexed. “I portaled into the street, which only took me a second. It took me longer to find you in the bar than to actually get to the bar itself.”
Portaling. Using a portal through space. I’d seen enough science-fiction movies to kind of understand what it meant.
I groaned in defeat. “All right, so, let's suppose I decide to go with you, what happens to my life here? Do I have to sever allties? With my parents? Friends? Can I still have a life here?” I posed these inquiries, fully aware of their importance but still, part of me was reluctant to hear the answers.
He scratched his neck before answering, carefully choosing his words.
“Nobody has ever asked these kinds of questions before. Usually the magi we find here are so young the bonds have never formed. Or they’re formed because both or one of the parents is a maga or magusthemselves and they move to our Collective with the child. So there’s no real precedent,” he concluded.
Precedent. A word I felt comfortable with. A word inducing a sense of familiarity and at the same time a rare form of pain. Would I still be a lawyer? The likelihood of it was diminishing with every second.
As we walked further together in silence, I turned away from James, hoping to conceal the despair slowly etching on my face while I mentally braced myself for the next question.
I swallowed hard, feeling the weight of uncertainty pressing down on me.
“James,” I began tentatively, my voice faltering, “If we assume I’m—” I paused, swallowing again,“—magically inclined, and my parents are not…does this…what does it…does this mean they’re not my real parents?” The words nearly choked me as they left my lips.
“Oh Emma,” he sighed, his expression betraying a flicker of concern as he gently took hold of my arm, turning me to face him.
“Absolutely not. It’s basic genetics, really. Any talent for translation might have originated generations ago, like eye color or an aptitude. You have magical abilities because you have the gene. The gene can skip generations or be passed on by a parent or grandparent. You could’ve just as easily inherited a gift formusic. Would you question your parentage simply because you possessed the ability to play the piano, if your parents didn't?"
His eyes stayed locked onto mine and a heavy weight lifted of my chest as I saw truth in them.
“Trust me, we encounter Humanborns whose strictly human parents are their biological ones all the time, I promise.”
I took a deep breath, a glimmer of hope piercing through the darkness of my doubts.
“Really?”
He hesitated for a moment, his gaze flickering away briefly before returning to meet mine. Slowly, he nodded.
“Well, perhaps notallthe time, but it’s not uncommon. Most Humanborns have one or two magi parent, but not always. And it certainly doesn’t mean that your parents wouldn’t be your biological ones.”
Okay. I could cling to that reassurance.
“Does it warrant a conversation? Should I confront my parents about it?” I pressed, feeling a surge of anxiety creeping in.
James shrugged. “You can’t reveal the truth about translation to them yet, but you could ask them directly about your parentage, if you wanted to.”
I nodded. “Okay, I’ll think about it.”
Not that I was particularly eager to broach the subject anyway. Deep down, I knew in my heart and bones that my parents were indeed mine biologically. I even bore a striking resemblance to them physically.
