Chapter 15 #2
“Well, she’s about to learn that I don’t play games I can’t win.
” My voice cracked with fury. “I want my son back. I want to stop wondering if he’s going to keep getting older.
Or something worse.” The words spilled out before I could stop them because that was the part nobody seemed to understand.
Everyone kept telling me he looked healthy.
Fine. Stable. Wonderful. Great. Fantastic.
But healthy ten-year-old Darian wasn’t supposed to exist yet.
I was still supposed to have years before worrying about school dances, awkward growth spurts, and whatever fresh madness waited in the mind of a preteen boy.
Marcus stepped closer to me, the heat of his body radiating like fire.
“You have your son.” But I saw a flicker in his eyes, a shadow of doubt that told me he too felt that maybe this wasn’t the end of Addison’s reach.
His hand found mine and squeezed gently, just once.
A small gesture, but it told me everything.
He was worried. He was angry. He was watching.
And just like me, he was waiting for the next thing to happen and hoping like hell there wouldn’t be one.
“I do.” I met his eyes. “But you know what I’m talking about.
” I wrapped my arms around myself and leaned against the dresser.
The room suddenly felt too quiet. Too normal.
Like the universe was trying way too hard to convince me everything was fine.
I didn’t trust it. Not after today. Not after Addison.
Not after watching my son skip half of childhood before my eyes.
“Dolores said it was gone. Dormant,” said Marcus, his voice quiet but firm. He wasn’t arguing with me, just reminding me of the facts. The problem was facts and feelings were currently engaged in a vicious cage match inside my brain, and feelings were winning by a landslide.
I swallowed hard. “For now, maybe. But for how much longer? We thought his strange shifting episode was gone too, and then this happened.” I rubbed at my chest where the anxiety sat like a brick.
“What if this is only phase two? What if tomorrow he wakes up fifteen? What if next week he needs to start shaving?” I blew out a breath. “I know that sounds ridiculous.”
His gaze dropped for a second, the weight of his silence louder than anything he could say.
“Maybe we can have Dolores run another one of her tests in the morning. Will that help?” His hand found mine again, his thumb brushing lightly across my knuckles.
The gesture should have calmed me, and it did…
slightly. Which was frustrating because I wanted to be dramatic for at least another five minutes.
I shook my head. “It should, but it won’t.
I can’t stop feeling this… anxiety in my chest. My witchy instincts are telling me that it’s not over.
” I hated even saying it out loud because it made me sound like one of those fortune tellers who sold cursed crystals at roadside stands.
But every time I tried to convince myself everything was fine, something deep inside me pushed back. Hard.
Marcus scooted closer to me. “I know you’re scared, but it’s possible that whatever Addison tried to do failed.
Don’t forget, Darian is different. No one really knows what he can do.
What he will do. She underestimated him.
And she failed.” A flicker of something flicked through his expression.
Hope, maybe? I couldn’t tell. I was way too wired to tell at this point.
My brain was moving so fast it felt like it was outrunning the rest of me.
Still, I thought about what he’d said. Addison had poisoned Allison.
Lied about the prison. Built some creepy laboratory.
Targeted our son. And despite all of that, Darian was still here.
Still laughing. Still stealing muffins. Still somehow finding a way to be himself through every impossible thing thrown at him.
Maybe Marcus was right. Maybe Addison had expected one outcome and gotten another. Maybe she’d underestimated the little boy who was half witch, half wereape, part demon, and apparently determined to make everybody’s life as complicated as possible. If so, he definitely got that last trait from me.
“We’ll figure this out,” said the chief, his voice sounding so convincing, I almost believed him.
Marcus had always had that effect on people.
He could stand in front of a burning building, tell everyone it would be fine, and somehow half the town would grab marshmallows.
Normally, I loved that about him. Right now, I wanted to borrow some of that confidence because mine had packed a suitcase and disappeared sometime around Darian’s surprise aging event.
I smiled, but it didn’t reach my eyes. “We’ll see.” The words came out softer than I intended, tired and worn down, like someone who had spent the day running an emotional obstacle course while carrying a sack of bricks and occasionally getting hit in the face with additional bricks.
“I know.” He smirked and then tugged me into him, holding me tightly like he was afraid to let go.
I buried my face in his neck, holding back the tears I didn’t have time for.
His scent surrounded me, familiar and grounding.
Forest. Earth. Marcus. For a few seconds I let myself just stand there.
No portals. No Addison. No magical disasters.
Just my husband. It was probably the first moment all day when my shoulders relaxed more than half an inch.
But my brain couldn’t sit still. Was what was happening to Darian really dormant? And for how long? Because next time, it might not go dormant again. Next time, I might lose my kid for good.
My stomach twisted at the thought. Every time I started to feel better, my brain helpfully provided seventeen new nightmare scenarios.
I thought about telling Marcus about how I found Addison using my new portal magic, but my wereape had gone through enough tonight.
I didn’t want to add any more stress to an already crazy situation.
The man had spent the evening watching our son age nearly a decade, reassuring me I wasn’t losing my mind and pretending he wasn’t worried himself.
Maybe I could give him six hours before I casually mentioned I’d accidentally invented magical stalking.
“What is it?” asked my wereape husband. His voice was immediate, suspicious, the voice of a man who knew me entirely too well.
“Hmmm?” I tried for innocence. It probably came out sounding like a criminal caught halfway through hiding a body.
Marcus narrowed his gaze on me. “There’s more.
Isn’t there? What are you not telling me?
” His arms folded across his chest, waiting.
Damn those wereape senses. Sometimes I thought he was psychic or just disturbingly good at reading my face.
Probably both. Maybe there was some secret wereape class they took as teenagers called Advanced Detection of Spousal Nonsense.
If so, Marcus had clearly graduated at the top of his class.
I did my best to smooth my expression into something innocent, but his eyes caught every tiny reaction, every crack in the act.
He angled his head, shoulders relaxed but alert, radiating that confident alpha energy that suggested he already knew I was hiding something and was simply waiting for me to admit it.
The annoying part was that he wasn’t even being smug about it.
He was just standing there patiently while my own face betrayed me.
He narrowed his eyes at me. “There. That look again.” He pointed at me accusingly.
“You’re thinking about something, and I’m willing to bet it has something to do with Addison.
Or Darian.” His finger remained pointed at me like I was a suspect in a criminal investigation and not his wife standing barefoot in our bedroom.
I widened my eyes. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” The lie lasted approximately half a second before collapsing under the weight of its own stupidity.
“Yes, you do.” His expression remained stubbornly unimpressed. “Tell me.”
I let out a long, dramatic sigh because there was really no graceful way to explain spontaneous magical portals without sounding completely unhinged.
“Fine. I wasn’t planning to mention it because you already have enough to worry about right now...
” And because every time I replayed it in my head, it somehow sounded crazier.
Which was saying something considering my life.
One dark eyebrow lifted. It was a remarkably expressive eyebrow. I hated it.
“But,” I said, glancing down at my hands, which still hadn’t entirely stopped shaking, “I may have done something.” The words came out carefully. Delicately. Like maybe if I said them slowly enough they wouldn’t sound terrible.
Marcus stepped closer. His gaze swept over me as though he expected to find an injury I’d somehow forgotten to mention. “What kind of something?” His voice turned quieter, edged with concern, which made me feel slightly guilty. Slightly.
I took a breath and attempted to sort through the tangled mess of thoughts in my head. “A portal-related something.” That was technically true. Wildly incomplete. But true.
His expression didn’t change. “Go on.” His shoulders had already squared, the same way they always did when he sensed trouble approaching and was preparing to meet it head-on. The problem was that sometimes the trouble was me.
I met his gaze. “I might have… accidentally called up a portal with Addison’s face and then I ended up in her laboratory.” The words tumbled out in a rush. Once they were out there, there was really no stuffing them back into the box.
Marcus’s frown deepened, his jaw tightening. “What do you mean accidentally? You saw her? Today?” Every trace of amusement disappeared from his face.