Page 56 of April's Fool
“He knew. About you, your mom, my transition. He knew about it all. I thought it was our dad that was the problem, but it was Basil the entire time. Fern knew, and she protected you. It killed her.”
Panic seized my breath. I clutched a hand to my chest, wrinkling my tux. Breath wouldn’t come. “I’m here, Damon,” Mori soothed, his touch calmed me enough to take in much needed air.
“Thyme. What the fuck are you saying?”
The witch looked at me with pity in his gaze from his place at my feet. “I’m saying that you are a witch, Damon. And you’re my brother.”
I shot to my feet, causing Thyme to tumble backwards into the low table. The sound of glasses clinking then shattering followed me as I stalked to the other side of the room, my hands in my hair. I tugged on the sandy blond strands, the bite of pain tethering me to reality. This was wrong. A mistake.
For a minute, the club was silent as they let me stifle the scream working its way up my throat. I worked for control, falling back on my training. Emotions clouded judgment. Those with poor judgment, without all the information, made stupid mistakes and got themselves dead.
Stupid was one thing I wasn’t.
A witch… no… I couldn’t be.
Thyme and Basil were my brothers? I wanted to laugh at the lunacy of the thought. There was no way. Sure, I could have taken after my mother, but we were nothing alike.
A familiar hand rested on my shoulder. Mori turned me to wrap his arms around me. Mori was safety and love. With him near me, everything would be okay. I finally took a full breath.
“I’ve got you, Damon.” He pulled back to meet my eyes. “Whatever you are doesn’t matter to me. Witch, demon, shifter, elf, ogre—“ His lips twitched with a barely suppressed smile.
“Ogre?” My eyebrow raised in question.
“Just one of the many ideas I floated around to explain how special you are.” He punctuated it with a kiss to my forehead. It felt like a balm washing over me. “I honestly thought you were part fae. You’re just so pretty.”
“At this point, I’d take that over this. How can I be related to them? I don’t understand.” I rested my head against his chest. He was in that in between state with only some of his demon features out. I wanted my full demon lover, but that tux he wore was too splendid to ruin with the transformation.
“Right now, we don’t have the full story. Why don’t you come back and listen to Thyme?” I was grateful Mori didn’t call him my brother. “Once we have all the information, we can decide what to do.”
“What do you mean?”
Mori looked at me with sympathy. “Damon, you have magic. You might want to have it for when Basil comes again. If he knows who you are…”
He didn’t finish that sentence. Didn’t have to. There was no way I’d join Basil on his pathetic quest for more power and domination over the witches, shiftersand demons. I was an unknown threat. An additional complication, as he’d said.
Fuck!
This was all so messed up.
“Okay,” I said, reaching for his hand.
Together we walked back over to the sofas where Oak and Thyme were in quiet, though heated, conversation. Guess I wasn’t the only one blindsided by the news.
Bitterly, I sat in front of Thyme, waiting for him to destroy all I thought I’d known about my life. At least I knew I had Mori there to pick up the pieces after.
“I’m sorry, Damon. This situation is fucked up. If it wasn’t for Basil recognizing you, I’m not sure I would have told you. Yes, you deserve to know, but I also… well, let’s just say your… aversion to witches has been noticed.”
“You try growing up in some of the homes I did over the years and see how you turn out!” I spat. “It’s not like they put you in therapy, it’s the fucking foster system,” I huffed, settling back against Mori. “Most days I was just grateful for food and a warm bed. None of them cared I was gay, they just were scared of people like you and your brother with your magic taking their control,” I spat bitterly. “Or they were the cast aside ones. So jealous of those with power with theirs taken from them, they taught us to hate you.”
As an adult, I saw what their hatred was: fear. They were at the bottom of the food chain with no protections against the magic witches could wield against them. Even the ex-witches were vulnerable, making them lash out. I had tried hard to not let my feelings show in my interactions with the witches. They couldn’t help how they were born. The conditioning was hard to shake, though.
Stubbornness had me grasping at straws. “How do I know for sure you’re telling the truth? That I really am your brother.” Accepting that was easier than calling myself a witch. My upbringing had really done a number on me. I was trying, goddammit, this had just been a fucking long emotional day.
“I can take a hair, twine it with mine and do a spell,” Thyme offered.
“Right, that means nothing to me because I don’t know what a non related result would look like.”
Oak held out a freshly plucked hair. “Thyme can demonstrate it with mine. After he proves he’s your brother, I need you to listen to him. I get you’ve been through a lot, but we need to plan. You’ll need to be trained—“
