“You know my adoptive parents?” I glanced at him, my lips going numb. How could he not have told me?
He moved quickly for someone with an injured leg, pushing to his knees despite his pain, and turning to face me. “I’m so sorry!” he stammered, his skin paling to an almost deathly gray. “I didn’t knowwhento tell you, with everything else happening… Then you were avoiding them. There was never a good time to go over it.”
My thoughts rushed over past events. The boys had mentioned it once, that Hanah was a witch, and that my parents had been on a mission when they’d found me.
I never thought to ask for clarification—I never wanted to talk about it.
My foolproof method of ignoring unpleasant realities until they went away was no longer working.
But if Hanahwasa witch and aware of this world, then it made sense that so were they…
“They are yourofficers?” I rubbed my fingers over my head, sighing. It made sense that they’d recognize me then, considering what Ms. Protean said. Officers instinctively feel drawn to us.
“Retired,” Miles explained. “They’re both witches—Abigail is a hedge witch and a Tongjun proxy. Jonathan is a curse-breaker, he’s an Er Bashou proxy.”
“Acurse breaker?” Hopefully that wasn’t what it sounded like. My adoptive father was a programming genius who enjoyed T.V. wrestling. I could not imagine him,Indiana Jonesstyle, breaking curses in ancient burial grounds.
Besides, what a wasted opportunity. Having acurse breakeraround would have been helpful when I’d beencursedonly last month.
How long had it been since my adoptive parents were involved in anything of this world? “They didn’t recognize Bryce…”
“Jonathan mostly works with runes,” Miles explained sheepishly. “He likes puzzles; says that’s why he went into programming.”
“Bryce Dubois?” Kathleen interjected, breaking into our conversation. She was looking between the two of us, forehead wrinkled in interest. “If I know anything about my son and his wife, it’s that they probably avoided all contact with the Dubois family. Even before I left, they wouldn’t acknowledge any ties: Abigail was too hurt.”
Could there be bad blood between them, like how Damen and Finn both seemed to hate Bryce? “Did they not get along with my biological parents?”
“On the contrary, Abigail is your godmother.” Kathleen’s brows and voice lowered.
“What?” My stomach dropped and I glanced at Miles, ready to round on him for keeping this piece of information from me. But he was also staring at her in surprise, looking as bewildered as I felt.
“She never told you?” The older woman sounded genuinely shocked. “She and your mother were inseparable; they were even in the same quintet.”
“What?” I repeated my earlier question. Shock had turned my blood cold, and so many questions swirled in my thoughts that it was impossible to focus on just one.
“I didn’t know she was your godmother.” Miles wrapped the blanket over his shoulders—almost as though he was trying to hide from me. “But I did know they were in the same quintet.”
“It wasn’t just any quintet,” Kathleen interrupted. “It was the first all-female quintet in our history.”
“Yeah…” Miles was staring at the floor. “There was your mom, Titus’s mom, Damen’s mom, Abigail, and Dr. Kohler. They’ve disbanded though.”
“Because my mother is dead?” I asked, the words caused a pang to shoot through my chest.
Miles shook his head. “No. Titus’s mother is dead too. The death of a quintet member, or their absence, will only weaken it, but the remaining members can try to make up for their absence—like how we’ve functioned without you. Of course, a quintet is strongest with all five members. But Abigail isn’t mentally fit, and your mother was the one who could have helped her. They can’t act as a quintet because it’ll strain the other two acting members: that’s why Trinity focuses on her work, and Rhea her business.
“That’s probably why Abigail avoids you too,” Miles ventured, still not meeting my eyes. “You can’t justignoreyour abilities. And she’s been trying for years. Your presence is challenging her magic, but she’s not ready to do her shadow work yet.”
I blinked at him, concern for my adoptive mother washing over me. Sure, she hadn’t been the greatest matronly role model, but she still raised me. And there was something wrong with her?
I hated that even now, I cared. But…how did I not notice she was sick?
Miles answered my unspoken question. “She’s not physically ill.”
“My daughter-in-law is extremely sensitive and was already bordering on a mental break after her quintet members died. She threw herself into her work, signing up for the most high-risk cases, because she wanted to make a difference. But eventually that took its toll on her too.”
“She was involuntarily retired due to mental reasons,” Miles added.
My pulse raced, and I touched Miles’s arm.