Chapter 6
Iknelt beside Darian as he slept on the cottage couch, shivering beneath a blanket. My eyes burned as I fought back tears.
The festival felt a million miles away now. The cottage had gone strangely quiet after we rushed home. The only sounds now were the crackling fire in the hearth, the occasional rattle of potion bottles from Ruth’s bag, and Darian’s uneven little breaths.
Every few seconds his body twitched, shifted, and stopped. Then it started all over again.
Darian had never been sick. Ever. I knew he was still technically only a few months old, but he looked like a strong toddler that kept growing before my eyes.
But this? No one could prepare you for watching your sick child and feeling hopeless to help. It was the worst feeling in the world, gut wrenching. I’d give anything to have him stop shivering like that or trembling between shifting and not shifting.
If I could take the pain and bestow it on myself, I would, without a second thought to make my kid well again.
My throat tightened as another small tremor moved through his body.
Dark fur rippled briefly across one side of his face before fading again. One tiny gorilla hand clenched against the blanket while the other looked painfully human.
Wrong. Everything about this felt wrong.
Darian whimpered softly in his sleep and my entire heart basically collapsed into soup.
“Hey, buddy,” I whispered, brushing damp curls away from his forehead. “Come on, monkey boy. Mommy’s right here.”
His skin felt hot to the touch, like energy was trapped beneath his skin, trying to force itself outward.
And every instinct inside me kept screaming this wasn’t natural.
Marcus stood a few feet away near the fireplace, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, looking like he was about to beast out into his King Kong alter ego. He was one bad moment away from ripping the entire world apart with his bare hands.
His jaw flexed every time Darian twitched. Protective alpha wereape energy rolled off him hard enough to practically change the temperature of the room.
I couldn’t help but be reminded of the curse Marcus had endured. It had been feral, with that uncontrolled fury that had him forget who I was. It scared the crap out of me.
Yet… this seemed different. I wasn’t sure how. I just knew.
“Here we are,” said Ruth as she knelt next to me. She lifted a small glass with a greenish liquid inside. “This is a healing elixir with extra protein and blackthorn root. It should help stabilize the shifting.”
I don’t know why, but I leaned in and sniffed. It smelled like onion and bum.
I nodded at my aunt, not trusting my voice.
Ronin had gone back to the festival to fetch her. Ruth was the best healer I knew, the most proficient White witch skilled in healing potions and tonics. If anyone could help my son, it was her.
She’d come straight away, with glitter spider webs stuck to one side of her head.
Loved my aunt Ruthy.
Iris had never left my side either, and she and Ronin now stood in the living room. Both loved my kid, and both looked equally troubled.
Especially Ronin at the moment, who looked deeply uncomfortable in that specific way men always did when faced with crying women, sick children, or emotional vulnerability in general.
The half-vampire shifted awkwardly near the bookshelf while trying to pretend he wasn’t worried. Which would’ve worked better if he hadn’t checked on Darian every twelve seconds.
Iris leaned silently against the wall beside him, hugging Doris tightly around her chest. Her dark eyes stayed fixed on Darian. She was worried too.
“Lift his head so I can pour in the mixture,” said Ruth leaning forward.
I felt Marcus’s eyes on me as I did as she instructed.
Darian stirred weakly the second I touched him. His little face scrunched slightly. Then fur flashed unevenly across his cheeks again.
I sucked in a breath. Seeing the shifting flicker like that made my stomach turn every single time. It looked painful, unstable, like his body was fighting itself.
“Easy, sweetheart,” I whispered softly as I slid one arm beneath him.
Darian made a sleepy little gorilla sound halfway through a human whimper.
That nearly destroyed me emotionally.
Ruth carefully tipped the glass toward his mouth. “Atta boy, Darian. Swallow for Aunty Ruthy.”
For one awful second, nothing happened.
Then Darian coughed weakly as green potion dribbled down his chin.
I shifted closer, trying not to panic. “Please drink it. Please.”
I watched as Ruth tried again, more slowly this time. A tiny amount slipped past Darian’s lips. Then another.
The room stayed completely silent while we waited. Outside, distant festival music drifted faintly through the windows.
A few seconds passed. Then the rapid flickering of fur along Darian’s cheeks slowed.
His tiny fingers finally loosened their tight grip on the blanket, and the uneven shifting between skin and dark fur stopped jerking through his body every other second.
One little gorilla ear twitched once before settling fully into place while his breathing softened into something less ragged.
Tiny changes. But enough that I noticed.
“So?” I looked at Ruth. “That’s good. Right? Slightly less twitchy is good? We like less twitchy.”
Ruth frowned gently. “Hmm.”
Not the answer I wanted.
“It’s helping a little,” she admitted carefully.
“A little?” Fear crawled colder down my spine as I looked from Darian to Ruth. “That’s it? That’s all you’ve got?” My voice rose, and I could feel myself losing my temper.
I didn’t want that. The last thing I wanted was to yell at Ruth. This wasn’t her fault. My emotions were through the roof right now, though, and I could barely control them.
I glanced at Marcus. “Do wereape kids go through this? Is this some sort of shifting thing? Beast control?”
Even as I asked it, I already knew the answer. This didn’t feel like a normal kid thing. This felt wrong in that deep instinctive way magic sometimes did. Like my entire nervous system had started screaming while my brain desperately tried to stay rational.
Marcus moved next to me, his expression dark. “No. Wereape pups don’t get stuck mid shift. And they don’t look sick. This is not normal.”
The firmness in his voice made my stomach drop harder. If he said this wasn’t normal, this really wasn’t normal.
I looked back down at Darian curled beneath the blanket, his little body still twitching every few seconds like the shifting magic beneath his skin hadn’t fully settled yet. One tiny furry hand flexed weakly against the couch cushion before shrinking halfway human again.
I blinked the wetness from my eyes, my throat tight. “No,” I whispered mostly to myself. “No, he’s okay. He has to be okay.”
Because the alternative? Absolutely not.
I wasn’t emotionally equipped for that conversation with the universe.
“But your kid is different. Right?” said Ronin. “I mean, he’s part witch and demon and King Kong. Maybe he’s just reacting differently to growing pains. Look…” he continued more gently, “Darian’s not exactly a textbook supernatural kid.”
“That’s because there are no textbooks,” I told him.
Ronin nodded. “Exactly my point.”
And annoyingly… he wasn’t wrong. Darian wasn’t fully wereape. Wasn’t fully witch or demon. And then there was the whole Nexari side of me, which came with its own terrifying magical mystery box of problems.
My son basically existed outside normal supernatural biology, which had sounded kind of cool up until today.
Now it just felt scary.
Because what if nobody knew how to help him? What if nobody understood what was happening because nobody like Darian had ever existed before?
A fresh wave of dread tried climbing into my throat. I shoved it back down aggressively.
“I could talk to my father,” I said after a moment.
Marcus’s eyes lifted toward me.
“He may know something about hybrid magic,” I admitted softly while brushing my fingers carefully through Darian’s curls. “Or accelerated shifting. Or… I don’t know. Weird impossible magical children.”
Ronin nodded. “Yeah. Creepy ancient demon dads seem useful in situations like this.”
I shot him a tired look. “My father is not creepy.”
Ronin shrugged. “He’s got glowing silver eyes. Okay. My bad. I’m trying to keep the mood from fully collapsing.”
Part of me appreciated it. The other part wanted to throw him directly into the fireplace.
“I just…” I swallowed hard, staring down at Darian again. “This is scary.”
Just fear. Raw ugly terrifying fear. Because watching your child suffer did something awful to your heart. It cracked you open. Made you feel helpless in ways nothing else could.
And the worst part? I was Tessa freaking Davenport. Shadow witch turned Nexari witch. Monster fighter. Professional survivor of supernatural nonsense. I’d battled Dark magic and wizards, murderous sorceress, ancient founders.
But this?
This tiny trembling little body curled beneath a blanket?
This scared me more than all of it combined.
Marcus crouched beside me again, one large hand settling against the back of my neck. “He’s strong. He’s my son.”
I nodded automatically. Because Darian was strong. My tiny gorilla goblin had climbed the side of the cottage last week.
But strength suddenly felt very small compared to fear.
Darian moaned softly again in his sleep. Then his shifting flickered once more beneath the blanket.
I turned to Ruth. “What do you think’s wrong with him?”
Ruth hesitated. Which was approximately the worst possible thing she could do.
“Ruth.” My voice cracked slightly. “Can this be a curse?” I didn’t want to say it, but right now, it was the only thing that made sense.
My aunt looked down at Darian again, her expression unusually serious beneath the cloud of white hair and lingering glitter spiderwebs. “I don’t know yet,” she admitted softly. “We’ll have to wait and see how he reacts to the potion. It could be a virus, could be something else…”
“Like a curse,” I grounded out.
Ruth nodded. “Yes. Like a curse.”
Ronin stepped forward awkwardly. “Maybe it’s just festival magic overload?”