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“How long have you known about this?” I asked.
He tensed but didn’t answer me.
“How long?” I repeated.
Dad exploded out of his chair, and things almost felt normal.
“Don’t take that tone with me!” he yelled. “You don’t know how hard it’s been to carry this around, not knowing what to do to fix it!”
“Yeah?” I said. “And how long have you carried it?”
The fight drained out of his body, and Dad hung his head in shame.
“My whole life.”
I jumped to my feet.
“You’ve known all this time,” I said. “And your solution was to get drunk?”
Dad blanched. “It’s not all my fault, you know. I tried and tried to warn your mother, but she refused to listen. I said that if it was a girl, we had to get rid of it before she was born. She called me a superstitious monster. It nearly tore us apart!”
“Get rid of it?” Cadence said quietly.
Tears slipped down her cheeks, and she ran into the kitchen. The front door quickly swung open and slammed shut. I moved to follow her, but Freya shook her head.
“I’ve got it,” she said and hurried out of the room.
Dad and I faced each other.
“I’ve forgiven you for a lot of shit,” I said. “I’ve stepped up where you failed for Cadence. Hell, for myself. I’ve made sure you didn’t choke on your own puke, and I’ve picked you up from jail. Throughout it all, I knew you were a coward. I just didn’t know you were this big of one.”
I expected him to lash out at me, with either his words or his fists. I didn’t care which. I itched for a fight.
“You’re right,” he admitted in a voice so small and quiet, I barely recognized it. “For years, I tried to find out how to break the curse, but no witches were willing to help a retired hunter with no favors to offer and not a lot of cash. This Moonflower witch is in one of the most powerful covens in North America and maybe even the world! I was too scared to take her on alone. And then your mother died…I wasn’t sure how to care for either of you, much less keep you from dying. It was too much for one man—for me.”
I stared at him in shock. Slowly, some things became clear.
“That’s why you’ve been worse,” I said. “These past few months, your head’s been so far in the bottle, I don’t know how you haven’t drowned in the stuff. You knew she’d Awaken soon.”
Dad nodded. “Her power is like a beacon to witches. Now, that witch can track her anywhere. We might as well paint a target on her back.”
I wanted to snap at my father or yell some more. I wanted to sit down and drink until I couldn’t remember my sister’s life was in danger. I couldn’t bring myself to do any of it. If I resorted to his bad habits, I would be no better than him. I wouldn’t let this break me as clearly as it had broken him, but, for the first time, I understood my father.
“You were so angry after Mom died,” I said. “I always thought it was just grief running its course, but that’s not true. You were mad she left you to deal with this by yourself.”
He sat back down in his chair with a huff.
“I didn’t mean to hurt your sister’s feelings,” he said, “but I never wanted this. Not just for me, but for her. No child should fear her life like this. This isn’t the life I wanted for her.”
I sat too, though more gracefully than he had done.
“And it’s not just because she’s a witch?” I asked.
I wasn’t sure what prejudices my dad held onto from our ancestors. After today, I was confident there was a fair number of things I didn’t know about the man. It was a scary new reality, but one that offered a flicker of hope. For years, I hadn’t allowed myself to dream that he could be anything but what he was—a drunk.
“I only care that she’s a witch because it puts her in danger,” he said.
I believed him.
