Chapter 16
“And it just happened?” asked my father, staring at me like I just grew a third eye right in the middle of my forehead. Considering my life lately, a third eye probably wouldn’t have cracked the top ten weirdest things he’d witnessed.
“Yes.” After waking up the next morning from a night of fabulous earth-shattering orgasms with my sexy husband, the first thing I did was run to my kid’s room to see if I’d be staring at an adult. But Darian was still the ten-year-old-looking kid.
It was still a struggle to look at him like that, and I did my best not to start bawling in front of my son. I didn’t want to traumatize him or make things worse. Darian might not look like he was bothered by any of this, but I knew better. No kid that suddenly grew ten years was okay.
I needed to be solid for him. I needed to be the calm, stable parent. The reassuring parent. The parent who definitely wasn’t internally screaming every five minutes while imagining increasingly terrible future scenarios.
Unfortunately, my brain kept helpfully supplying those scenarios anyway. What if he woke up fifteen tomorrow? Twenty next week? What if I blinked and suddenly needed to discuss mortgages and retirement plans with my son?
The next thing I did was call up my father from our “basement portal,” or whatever you want to call it. I still hadn’t settled on a proper name for the thing. Portal room sounded too dramatic. Basement portal sounded ridiculous. Magical demon elevator wasn’t technically accurate.
If my son was about to morph and skip another decade, my demon father might have some insight. Or at the very least tell me I wasn’t losing my mind.
“Fascinating,” said Obiryn, walking around Darian who stood still for his grandpa in the middle of the kitchen with a tiny smile.
He was still wearing one of Marcus’s T-shirts with sweat pants rolled up.
The shirt hung off him like he’d stolen it from a much larger relative, which technically he had.
Darian looked completely comfortable with the whole situation, curious and relaxed.
Meanwhile I was one anxiety spiral away from chewing through a wall.
My father slowly circled him again, studying him with the intensity of someone examining a rare magical artifact. “Just fascinating,” repeated my father. He crouched slightly, looked at Darian’s eyes, then at his hands, then back at me.
The longer he looked, the tighter my stomach became. I hated that word. Fascinating was never reassuring. Nobody ever looked at a perfectly healthy child and said fascinating. It was the magical equivalent of a doctor saying huh. You never wanted the experts saying huh.
“Fascinating?” I stared at my father, my heart doing somersaults and not in a good way. “That’s all you’ve got.”
I caught sight of Marcus at the coffee maker, filling a mug while steam drifted upward between us. He wore the same measured expression he always did with just the hint of a smile, as though everything was perfectly under control, and I was the only one losing my damn mind.
Nice try.
I could see the strain he was trying to hide.
It sat in the rigid line of his shoulders and the tight set of his jaw.
He held on to the coffee mug a little longer than necessary, as though the warmth and weight of it gave him something solid to focus on.
Every few minutes, his hand drifted to the back of his neck in an absent gesture that had become increasingly frequent.
Even his frown seemed automatic now, no longer something he was consciously aware of.
I knew exactly what was hiding underneath. The fear. The uncertainty. The constant worry that Darian could suddenly age another decade before our eyes.
It was my fear too.
But Marcus would never give it a voice. He’d carry it silently and pretend it wasn’t there.
“Dad?” I asked, exhaling. “What do you think? Have you ever seen this type of curse or hex? I’m freaking out here.
” My fingers twisted together as I watched him circle Darian again.
The man was taking his sweet time. I knew he was being thorough, but right now every second felt like an hour.
Somewhere deep inside me, my anxiety had put on running shoes and was doing laps around my nervous system.
“Right, right.” He leaned back, his glowing silver eyes still on Darian. “You said it just happened. After this Allison…” He lifted a finger thoughtfully, like he was sorting through a filing cabinet full of supernatural disasters.
“Addison,” I corrected automatically. At this point I’d corrected so many people I was considering making name tags.
“Injected my grandson with a mysterious substance.” My father folded his arms and continued studying Darian with unnerving focus. Not the focus of a worried grandparent. The focus of an ancient demon who had just stumbled across a puzzle.
“Well,” I started, watching Darian’s reaction to our conversation. The last thing I wanted was to frighten my kid. He might look ten, but he was still my baby. “I didn’t see her do it. But she basically confirmed it when I went after her.”
The memory flashed through my mind again—the laboratory, the syringes, the way she’d looked at Darian like he was a project instead of a person. My stomach tightened. It was amazing how one woman I’d only known a short time had climbed so high on my Most Hated People List.
Obiryn finally looked at me. “Where is she now?” His voice remained calm, but something sharper lay just beneath it, protective and dangerous.
That kind of tone reminded me my father wasn’t just a dad.
He was also a demon with an alarming number of skills that probably violated laws of several dimensions.
I shrugged. “In her lab, I guess. And before you ask, I have no idea where that is.” Which was frustrating.
Incredibly frustrating. I’d literally found the villain’s secret laboratory and somehow managed to come home without an address, map, landmark, or even a useful road sign.
If there was an award for botching magical reconnaissance, I was probably a finalist.
My father frowned. “But you just said you went after her.” One eyebrow rose slowly.
“I found her while I was testing your portal theory,” I began, seeing a proud smile forming on my father’s lips.
“Unfortunately, I’m still figuring stuff out with the portal so I couldn’t bring her back.
And I have no idea where that lab is. All I know is that she kept going on about how special Darian was and how I don’t know it. ”
That comment still ticked me off. Not because she was wrong. Darian was special. But because she’d said it with that smug tone people used when they thought they knew something you didn’t. I hated that tone. It was right up there with people saying calm down when you were upset.
Obiryn nodded, his silver eyes sharp beneath the warmth. “Well, she’s not wrong about that. My grandson is special.” The pride in his voice was immediate and completely sincere.
Darian beamed at that. “I can jump thirty feet now.” He delivered the statement with all the seriousness of someone discussing the weather.
My father’s eyes widened in delight. “Can you? Well, how about that. What else has improved?” He crouched down a little, completely invested. Apparently, we had shifted from terrifying magical crisis to paranormal growth chart evaluation.
“I can eat way more,” said my kid. Yeah. So much like his father. If appetite was a supernatural power, the wereapes had already achieved godhood.
“Really,” said Obiryn. “How interesting.” He nodded thoughtfully while Darian looked pleased with himself. I could practically see my father cataloging information. Enhanced strength. Enhanced appetite. Rapid aging. If he pulled out a notebook, I was leaving.
Marcus laughed as he came around, his coffee in his hand, untouched. His eyes lingered on our son for a moment before meeting mine.
“Okay. Enough of that.” I grabbed Darian.
“You can go watch your program on TV now. Off you go.” I gave him a gentle push and then turned my attention back to my father.
“So? What do you think this is?” The moment Darian disappeared into the living room, my patience vanished with him.
“And please don’t say fascinating or interesting again.
Every time you say interesting, I lose another year off my life. Is my son cursed?”
My father shook his head. “No. I don’t think he is cursed. But he is changing,” he said simply, like it was obvious.
I blinked. “Wait… what do you mean changing? He’s still changing?” I wasn’t sure I liked the sound of that. In fact, I was rapidly developing a dislike for every word coming out of my father’s mouth.
Obiryn clasped his hands. “Accelerated magical growth has been theorized but rarely documented. Usually, when multiple powerful bloodlines collide inside a child, the result is instability. The body struggles to adapt. The magic struggles to adapt. Sometimes one side overwhelms the other.” His silver eyes drifted toward the living room where Darian was watching television.
“You saw this. After he was born. Within weeks he grew. More than any normal witch or wereape baby.”
I thought about it. “That’s true.”
“But your son is adapting.”
My insides twisted. “By aging ten years in the middle of the afternoon?”
“By surviving it,” corrected my father gently. “That is the part you’re overlooking. Whatever Addison did should have placed enormous strain on him. Yet he’s healthy. Strong. Stable. His magic isn’t fractured. His aura isn’t damaged. In fact, it’s remarkably balanced.”
I stared at him. “Balanced?” I repeated. “Dad, he went to a festival and came home needing bigger pants.”
“True,” admitted Obiryn. “Yet he’s standing. Laughing. Eating everything in sight. Those are all encouraging signs.”
I folded my arms. “I’m still not encouraged.” I was, just a little.
“No,” said my father with a small smile. “Because you’re his mother.”
I hated when he did that. “If it’s not a curse or a hex. What did she do to him?”
Marcus stilled, and I knew he wanted to know this as well.
My father glanced over to Darian and then back at me. “I think… I might be wrong… but I believe whatever Addison gave him has less to do with magic and more to do with biology.”
I blinked. “Come again?”
“Not witch or wereape biology,” clarified Obiryn quickly.
“Magical biology. The way a being develops, grows, adapts.” He grabbed a stool from the kitchen island and sat, leaning back slightly.
“Magic isn’t separate from the body, Tessa.
Not for creatures like us. Not for demons.
Not for witches. Certainly not for a child born from multiple strong bloodlines. ”
My jaw fell open. “So she altered his development?”
“Is that possible?” asked Marcus, looking more concerned than he did a moment ago.
“Possibly accelerated it,” said my father.
“Think of it this way. Every living thing follows a blueprint. A tree knows how tall it should become. A dragon knows when it should molt. A wereape knows when its strength should emerge.” His eyes drifted toward Darian again.
“And your son possesses a blueprint unlike anything we’ve ever seen before. ”
I folded my arms tighter. “I don’t like where this conversation is going.”
“No,” agreed Obiryn, “because you’re imagining the worst.”
I shrugged. “That’s because the worst keeps happening.”
My father actually smiled at that. “What I think happened,” he continued, “is that Addison found a way to force his body to access a later stage of development before it was naturally ready. Not permanently and not completely. More like... she pushed him forward along a path he was already meant to walk.”
I stared at him. “Are you telling me this was supposed to happen?”
“Not like this.”
“Good answer.”
Marcus made a disapproving grunt in his throat. “I don’t like it.”
That made two of us.
“His appetite increased,” continued my father. “His strength increased. His coordination appears improved. Even his magical signature feels more mature.” He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “Those aren’t the signs of a body breaking down. They’re signs of a body adapting.”
I looked toward the living room where Darian was currently sprawled upside down across the couch watching television in a position that looked medically impossible. “He still acts like a kid.”
“Because he is a kid,” said my father gently. “His mind is still developing normally. Which is another reason I don’t believe this is a curse. Curses damage. They corrupt. They destabilize. What I’m seeing is... growth.”
I hated that word almost as much as I hated interesting. “Growth shouldn’t happen this fast.”
“No,” admitted Obiryn. “It shouldn’t.”
I sighed. “Then we’re back to the part where Addison is a lunatic.”
“Also true,” answered my father.
That earned him a reluctant smile.
My father’s expression became thoughtful again. “Whatever she did, I suspect she was attempting to trigger something latent inside him. Something connected to the unique combination of bloodlines he inherited.”
My pulse quickened. “You mean the demon side?”
“And the witch side.”
I frowned. “What about the wereape side?”
“Yes,” said my father.
I threw up my hands. “That’s all the sides.”
“Exactly.” Obiryn nodded. “And that’s the problem. Nobody has ever studied a child quite like Darian. There is no research paper or textbook.”
I cocked a brow. “Because I’d buy that book.”
“So would I.” My father smiled. “What I do know is that his aura is stable. His magic is stable. And despite everything Addison has done, your son is remarkably healthy.” His voice softened.
“That doesn’t mean we stop watching him.
It doesn’t mean we stop looking for answers.
But right now, Tessa, I don’t see a child in danger. I see a child changing.”
That should have made me feel better. Instead, it somehow made me more nervous.
And that scared the hell out of me.
What if the little boy sleeping in the room down the hall kept changing until I couldn’t recognize what he was becoming?
Worse, what if he was scared and trying to hide it from us because he thought he had to be brave?
But then… there was another voice… louder, clearer, my inner badass. She was practically purring.
Because while part of me panicked at what was happening to my son, another part of me—deep, primal, and utterly unbothered—was ready.
Ready to tear apart every lie Addison had built around herself.
Ready to find her laboratory. Ready to drag every answer out into the light.
Ready to bring the full wrath of a Nexari witch down on anyone who thought they could experiment on my child and walk away.
This wasn’t about me. It wasn’t about my magic. It wasn’t about portals. It wasn’t about demons, witches, or destiny.
It was about Darian.
My son. My boy.
And Addison had no idea what kind of storm she had just created.