Page 5 of Discovered Magic
The looks he received were a mixture of shock and pity.
“May I see her picture?” Castor asked gently.
“Oh, wait! I have one!” Ebba ran to the mantle and returned with a framed photo. “Here.”
He stilled. “Her mother,” he rasped, expression pale and tight. “What’s her name?”
“Beth Monroe,” Wilder replied. His pulse quickened in anticipation of the answer to his next question. “Why?”
Castor turned the frame. “The blonde is Abigail, I presume.”
His brother’s jaw dropped, but Wilder had seen the connection the second Castor greeted him. The resemblance was uncanny, the white-blond hair unmistakable.
“You guessed?” Laszlo asked him.
“I came here to ask Ebba’s wolf to see what she could find. When he opened the door, I knew.” Wilder didn’t look away from Castor. “You and Beth had an affair, didn’t you?”
“I’d have thought the picture was enough evidence for you. You’re asking for a DNA match?” Castor asked dryly, appearing to have recovered from his shock.
“What does that mean for her?” Laszlo turned thoughtful. “Wouldn’t she have similar abilities to yours?”
“I don’t know. One would think she’d be powerful, but that’s not how magic works. Sometimes it’s diluted. There are those with witch DNA whose powers never develop.” Castor rubbed the back of his neck as he studied the image. “I can’t believe Beth never told me.”
“How could she? Weren’t you in hiding for years?” Ebba asked. She clasped Castor’s free hand, squeezing it.
“Yes. I suppose you’re right.” He exhaled a heavy sigh. “How old is she? Abbie.”
Wilder sipped his coffee and swallowed hard. The man should know when he’d been with Beth, but his curiosity made Wilder consider whether traveling altered one’s perception of time.
“She would be forty-one next week.”
“Older than Quentin.” Castor’s expression cracked, giving a hint of deeper emotions. “Christ! I need to tell my son he had a sister.”
“Has,” Wilder stressed, unable to keep the edge from his tone. “Has a sister.”
The Traveler’s regretful eyes locked with his, and resolution settled on his face. “If she’s alive, I’ll find her, Thorne. Get some rest. We leave tomorrow morning for the mountain.” He stood and hugged Ebba. “You won’t be needed on this trip, love. I’ve got it covered.”
Wilder hung around a while longer after Castor teleported away. “Is this guy on the level? And yes, I know he’s a friend of Alastair’s, but I need him to take this seriously.”
“You can count on him, Wilder,” Ebba assured him. “He saved my life, a virtual stranger, not once, but twice. I imagine he’ll go to the ends of the earth for his own flesh and blood.”
“Yeah, man,” Laszlo added. “You can trust him to do the right thing.”
The pressure on Wilder’s chest lightened, making it easier to breathe.
“Okay. That’s good,” he said, almost to himself.
“I’m sorry I failed you the first time,” his brother said equally as soft, as if the words were difficult to voice. “We shouldn’t have left that fucking mountain until we had solid evidence one way or another.”
“You did all you could, Lo.” Wilder couldn’t downplay it. His family had stepped up, not stopping until they’d run out of options. “You were right about the rescue effort. No amount of scrying was going to find her if what I believe is true.”
“And what’s that?” Ebba asked with a tilt of her head.
“Some witches have latent magic. It only comes out under high-stress situations.” Their bewildered expressions said they had no idea what he was talking about. “If Abbie is Castor’s daughter, it stands to reason she’d have magic, despite all the sometimes-they-don’t shit he was spouting. He wouldn’t have agreed to go there if he thought she didn’t.”
Ebba shot a sharp look at Laszlo before speaking. “You believe Abbie had latent power, and once she was far enough from you, the trauma of the fall sparked it to life? And maybe she sent herself to a different time without knowing how her magic works?”
“Something like that.” Wilder studied them both closely. “It’s possible, right?”
