Chapter Twelve
My dad made his entrance like a man, or bulldog, who’d absolutely earned the right to enjoy himself.
The dining hall doors swung open just enough to let in a low, satisfied grunt, followed by the unmistakable snorf snorf snorf of an English bulldog deeply invested in a smell. Heads turned. Conversation stalled. Even the kitchen sprites paused mid-scurry.
Frank padded in on stout legs, his bulldog body solid and unmistakably pleased with the state of the world. His jowls hung loose in a way that suggested contentment bordering on smugness, and his tail, short, expressive, and impossible to ignore, pulsed.
“Oh,” I said softly, already grinning. “This is about to get better.”
Celeste leaned closer to me. “Is that Grandpa?”
“Yes,” I said. “And he’s in a mood.”
My dad ignored everyone at first, as was his right. He took a slow circuit of the room, nails clicking faintly on stone, sniffing the air like a connoisseur sampling a complicated vintage. He paused by the long table, accepted a pat from a delighted sprite, then continued on with purpose.
Straight toward the toad.
Alex, still damp, still offended, still trying to reclaim some sense of dignity, noticed him too late.
My dad stopped inches away.
The hall went quiet, and Frank lowered his massive head and inhaled.
Snort. Honk.
Alex froze.
My dad snorted again, louder this time, breath puffing warm and damp over the toad’s back.
Snorf. Hrrrk.
The toad let out a startled ribbit and attempted to hop backward.
Frank followed. He wasn’t aggressive or quick, just persistent.
He sniffed the toad from every angle, circling him with the slow, deliberate curiosity of someone who knew exactly how unsettling this was going to be. He nudged Alex lightly with his flat nose, then snorted again, jowls flapping.
Alex tried to puff himself up on his hind legs but rolled over instead, and I had to bite back my laugh.
My dad sneezed directly on him.
The toad squeaked somehow.
I laughed, and I didn’t even try to stop it.
I didn’t even feel bad about not trying to stop it.
Something deep, petty, and extremely satisfied unfurled in my chest as I watched my ex-husband, who’d once declared himself the loudest voice in every room, get absolutely steamrolled by a bulldog with a personal vendetta.
“Oh, geez,” Celeste whispered, eyes wide. “Grandpa is terrifying.”
“He’s just getting acquainted,” I said sweetly.
Frank dropped into a sit with a heavy thump directly in front of Alex, blocking his escape route. His mouth fell open slightly, tongue lolling, eyes bright and far too intelligent for comfort.
Alex ribbited frantically and tried to scoot sideways.
Frank leaned forward.
Snort.
Alex leapt.
My dad barked a deep woof that echoed off the stone walls and rattled cutlery.
Alex choked on his ribbit.
It came out as a warbly, panicked ribbit that had absolutely nothing to do with amphibian dignity. He hopped wildly, skidding across the stone and slamming into the table leg.
My heart filled with glee because apparently, I was emotionally stunted when it came to my ex.
My dad followed with joyful determination, tail pulsing harder now.
“Oh no,” Twobble said delightedly. “He’s about to play fetch.”
“Yes,” Stella said calmly. “And I see no reason to intervene.”
My dad sniffed again and gently—but firmly—placed one giant paw on the floor directly in front of Alex, blocking him like a bouncer at a very exclusive club.
My ex froze, and my dad tilted his head.
His jowls pulled back just enough to reveal teeth.
There was no snarl. In fact, I told myself it was a grin.
I pressed a hand to my mouth, shoulders shaking with joy.
“This,” I said, laughing, “is better than therapy.”
Celeste covered her face. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
But I noticed she didn’t step in.
My dad barked one more time before leaning down to give Alex a long, slow lick right across the back.
The toad let out a noise that no creature should ever make in public.
My dad huffed contentedly and sat back, clearly pleased with himself.
Alex collapsed, flat, and utterly defeated.
I wiped tears from my eyes.
“Dad,” I said fondly. “You are an inspiration.”
He looked up at me, chest puffing out proudly. His tongue lolled. His eyes crinkled with unmistakable delight the moment my mother walked in.
She stopped just inside the doorway, taking in the scene in a single glance. The toad flattened against the floor, my dad sitting tall and triumphant in his canine form, and the rest of us hovering somewhere between amusement and disbelief.
She blinked once and again.
“…Is that Alex?” she asked calmly.
“Yes,” I said.
She nodded. “He looks better this way.”
My dad wagged harder, which just meant a pulse and a dip from his stubby tail.
She crossed the room and crouched beside my dad, scratching behind his ears.
“Good boy,” she murmured.
My dad practically vibrated with happiness.
Alex whimpered, and my mother looked up at me.
Her eyes were warm, steady, and entirely unbothered by the magic, the chaos, or the amphibian ex-husband.
“I see you’ve had an eventful evening.”
“You could say that,” I replied.
She rose, brushing her hands together. “The late dinner smells lovely.”
“It is,” Celeste said faintly. “Also, Grandpa just psychologically destroyed my dad.”
My mom smiled serenely. “Family healing takes many forms.”
My dad snorted in agreement and plopped down at my feet with a satisfied grunt, clearly done for now. Alex didn’t move.
The Academy hummed softly, approving.
And for the first time all night, I felt light and safe. I was surrounded by people, and creatures, who loved me enough to stand guard, even when standing guard involved slobber.
If the Priestess was watching, I hoped she took notes.
Stonewick, it turned out, defended its own just fine.
My mother took one look at Alex flattened on the floor and decided, with the calm certainty of a woman who’d put up with entirely too much nonsense in her lifetime, that it was her turn.
She didn’t rush him. That would’ve been unsporting.
Instead, she crouched slowly, skirt folding neatly around her knees, and smiled at him with the sort of pleasant, polite smile she used on people who talked too long in checkout lines and didn’t realize how close they were to being judged.
“Well,” she said mildly. “This is new.”
Alex’s droopy eyes twitched.
Alex attempted to hop away with what remaining dignity he had left, but my mother followed him with a single finger extended, not touching, just hovering an inch above his round head as she tracked his movement with unsettling precision.
“Oh no,” she said gently. “Don’t scuttle off. I’ve barely had a chance to reacquaint myself.”
The toad froze, and Celeste leaned closer to me, whispering, “I don’t remember Grandma being scary.”
“She wasn’t,” I whispered back. “But she’s earned it.”
My mother tilted her head, studying Alex the way one might examine a questionable item at a yard sale.
“You know,” she went on conversationally, “I always said you’d end up small if you kept thinking so little of others.”
Alex ribbited weakly.
She smiled wider. “Oh, you remember that?”
She tapped the floor beside him once with her fingernail.
Tap.
Alex jumped straight up, landing awkwardly and spinning around in a panic.
“Oh honestly,” my mother sighed. “You used to be much braver when you thought you were the smartest person in every room.”
I covered my mouth to hide my laughter.
My mother rose to her feet and stepped around Alex, forcing him to turn to keep her in view. She moved slowly, deliberately, her steps whisper-quiet on the stone.
“Let’s review,” she said pleasantly. “You insulted my daughter. You betrayed her trust. You belittled her sparkle. You spoke inappropriately to your own child. You don’t respect women of any age. And now—” She gestured broadly at his current state. “—here we are.”
Alex croaked loudly, indignant.
“Yes,” she said, nodding. “I hear you. Accountability is uncomfortable.”
She stopped directly in front of him and leaned down until her face was level with his. It almost looked as if she were lying down, readying for a belly flop.
“If you’re hoping for sympathy, I’m afraid I used it all up years ago.”
“I’m so proud,” I said, wiping my eyes.
Alex attempted one last escape, hopping toward the far end of the hall.
My mother snapped her fingers, and Alex skidded to a stop as if the sound itself had grabbed him by the spine.
“Ah-ah,” she said. “We’re not done.”
She turned to me then, expression softening instantly. “You alright, sweetheart?”
“Yes,” I said honestly. “Better than I’ve been in a long time.”
She nodded, satisfied, and turned back to Alex. “Good, because I rather enjoy this.”
At that moment, Stella took in the scene at a glance: my mother standing serenely over a toad, my dad sprawled happily at my feet, Celeste laughing, the kitchen sprites peeking from behind counters with undisguised delight.
“Well,” she said dryly, folding her arms, “if this isn’t the healthiest family bonding I’ve seen in decades.”
Twobble trotted in beside Stella, hands stuffed into his pockets, gaze flicking from Alex to my mother and back again, and shrugged.
“I hate to state the obvious,” he said, “but aren’t we supposed to be finding a way to turn him back?”
The room went quiet for exactly half a second, and then everyone laughed.
Stella chuckled, shaking her head. “Eventually,” she said. “I imagine.”
My mother gave Alex one final, considering look. “There’s no rush.”
I wrapped an arm around Celeste, heart full, exhaustion finally settling into something warm instead of heavy. The Academy buzzed around us, content and indulgent, as if it too understood that sometimes magic wasn’t about fixing things right away.
Sometimes it was about letting the universe have a joke.
And for once, the joke wasn’t on us.