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I sighed and dropped my hands. “What if I’m not facing a vampire? What good does any of this do against magic?”
“The witch.” He sighed. “She wasn’t entirely wrong when she called us hypocrites. There’s always been magic in our blood to protect us from their kind—ancient charms of protection. You didn’t think you’ve survived the past few days on good luck alone, did you?”
Maybe.
“Then we are hypocrites,” I said, “because the only way we got those charms is from witches.”
He nodded. “Son, you have to accept your ancestry. Our family hunted because as many witches who don’t kill, there are just as many who do. Clearly, not even your new friend’s coven isn’t clean of blood. It was our sovereign duty to end those witches. That meant we had to become more than human to protect humankind. We can rely on those charms—on that magic in our blood, even stronger now with the Moonflower heritage—to hunt. To kill. You just have to give yourself over to it.”
“What do you mean?” I asked. “Give yourself over to it?”
“Accept it,” Dad explained. “Give yourself over to the dormant instincts in your blood. You’ve always been a protector. Hell, you’ve protected your sister from me for years. Now, allow those instincts to overwhelm you. Allow them to guide the swings of your fists and the arc of your sword.”
“What sword?” I asked.
He grinned. “Let’s practice your punches and footwork a bit more, then I’ll show you.”
*
Freya
Cadence sat across from me on the porch with her eyes squeezed shut. As she nervously shifted her weight, the old boards beneath us creaked and groaned. A wilted flower sat between us.
“Remember,” I told her. “It’s all about intent.”
The Sun hung low in the sky and would sink past the horizon in mere hours. I shifted, and the rough wood chafed my hands. Cadence opened her mouth to recite the spell I’d taught her and just as quickly snapped it shut.
For the fifth time, she repeated the same question.
“How does it go?”
I sighed. “You know how it goes. Just try it.”
Finally, Cadence whispered the spell.
Nothing happened.
She peeked one eye open and groaned.
“Try again,” I instructed.
Again, she whispered the spell. Then, again. And again. And again.
“Why isn’t it working?” she grumbled. “I trapped a freaking vampire, but I can’t make one measly flower come back to life!”
“Trapping a vampire demonstrated great power,” I said, “but no control. You were acting on instinct alone. Think of what you did in the castle as a really fast, short sprint. Now, I’m asking you to do a marathon.”
Cadence ran a hand through her hair, and I nearly smiled. It was a nervous habit that reminded me of her brother.
“Can’t I just be a sprinter?” she asked.
“Sprinters don’t last long in battle,” I answered honestly.
Cadence considered my words and nodded. Again, she closed her eyes and whispered the incantation. She peeked then sighed in defeat.
“Hey,” I said. “Look again.”
The bottom of the flower’s stem was green. A smile stretched across her face.
