39. Jax #2
I feel a wave of emotion crash through me that isn’t mine—longing, love, regret, all tangled together in a knot so tight it nearly chokes me. Dad’s feelings for Mom are overwhelming, like an ocean suddenly poured into a teacup. I’ve never felt anything so intense.
“That’s impossible,” Mom whispers, but there’s an audible tremor in her voice. “The Ides are ancient spirits, not—”
“Not your husband?” My lips curve into a smile that feels familiar but isn’t mine. “I guess I’m the exception to the rule.”
Mom simply stares, a mixture of sheer disbelief and confusion fighting for dominance.
“Remember the night before Edwin’s wedding?” Dad continues through me. “You couldn’t sleep. You were worried about the flowers. The supplier had sent the wrong color, and you were convinced it would ruin everything.”
Mom’s breath catches. Her eyes widen just a fraction.
“We drove to the supplier’s house at three in the morning,” Dad continues, his voice—my voice—growing softer. “We woke him up. You were so fierce, standing there in your bathrobe, demanding he fix his mistake. The poor man was terrified.”
Mom’s face has gone absolutely pale.
“Afterward, when we were driving back, I whispered something to you,” Dad continues. “I promised you we’d never need flowers at our funerals. That we’d both live forever because death would be too scared to come for either of us.”
Mom’s hand flies to her mouth. Tears well in her eyes, spilling over without warning.
“Theo?” she gasps, voice breaking on the name. “No. This is i-impossible. An Ide?”
I feel Dad’s relief flood through me, warm and powerful. “It’s me… I’m here.”
Brynn’s looking between us, confusion and alarm warring on her face. “What’s happening? Dad?”
“Yes, Starhead,” Dad says, using his old nickname for her. “It’s me.”
Mom steps forward hesitantly, one hand outstretched. She touches my face—my dad’s, in a weird way—her fingers trembling against my skin. “How is this possible?”
“I’m… still trying to piece together the details,” Dad admits. “My longer term memory is much better than my shorter one. I’ll try to find the chance to tell you everything I can. But for now, Marie, listen to me. We might not have much time.”
I sense my father keenly aware of our surroundings, concerned that someone else could walk in at any moment.
I can also sense his awareness of the risk he’s taking.
If Mom’s or Brynn’s Ides are listening, if they somehow report this conversation back to the others, it might not be the best thing.
.. but he doesn’t care right now. His family matters more than any potential risk.
Mom nods, tears still streaming down her face.
“You’re trusting the Ides too much,” Dad says. “It’s still too early. You need to allow for the possibility that they’re not doing this out of the goodness of their hearts.”
“I know, but they’re protecting us,” Mom says, though her voice lacks conviction. “They’ve strengthened our defenses, our magic—”
“At what cost?” Dad counters. “Marie, tonight you were at a meeting in the council chambers. With Dominic, Reinhardt, Edwin, Burr.”
Mom frowns. “What? No, I wasn’t. I’ve been at home, and then with Brynn, all evening.”
“Your Ide was there,” Dad says. “It took control while you slept. They’re communicating without us, planning without us.”
Mom’s face drains of color. “I can’t believe… I would have known.”
“Would you?” Dad asks, and Mom’s silence speaks volumes. She knows it’s theoretically possible. The Ides are powerful. That’s the whole point.
“Brynn’s got the right idea,” Dad continues, keeping my voice quiet but urgent. “You need to be more careful with how much control you’re giving your Ide. They’re ancient and powerful, yes, but every being in the universe has their own agenda, and I doubt the Ides are an exception.”
I can feel Dad’s fear for her, his need to protect her and his daughter even from inside my body. It’s almost crushing in its intensity.
“I’ve been fighting mine and I’ll continue,” Brynn says, her voice stronger now. “It wants… things. None of them normal. Frankly, it’s a creep.”
Mom looks down at the balm on her fingers, then at Brynn. “The therapy Dominic suggested...”
“Can be put on hold,” Dad says firmly.
Mom closes her eyes for a moment. When she opens them, there’s a new determination there. “I can feel it,” she murmurs. “My Ide. It’s irritated.”
“Push it back,” Brynn urges. “Like I do. Imagine a door, a wall. Whatever works for you.”
Mom’s face contorts with effort, her jaw clenching. For a moment, the shadows in her eyes intensify, swirling, before gradually receding. She gasps, like she’s surfacing from deep water.
“I think I’ve contained it,” she breathes. “For now.”
Dad smiles with my mouth, and I feel his pride and relief wash through me. “That’s my girl.”
It’s strange, this moment. The four of us—though technically only three bodies—huddled in the infirmary.
A family reunited in the most impossible way.
My father inside me, my mother and sister fighting ancient spirits within themselves.
It should feel horrifying, but somehow, it also feels right. Complete. If only Esme were here too.
“What do we do now?” Brynn asks, sitting up straighter.
“We stay vigilant,” Dad says. “We watch. We don’t assume anything—including that the coven’s problems are over. And try to keep a low profile.”
Mom nods slowly, as we all exchange glances.
Then, after what feels like too soon, I feel Dad’s presence receding, giving me back control of my body. The sudden absence of his overwhelming emotions leaves me feeling almost hollow.
“I’m back,” I murmur, my own voice sounding strange to my ears after Dad’s brief possession.
Mom looks at me, her eyes still wet with tears. She reaches out and touches my face again, this time seeing me—her son—rather than her husband.
“But he’s still in there,” she says softly.
I nod. “Yup. Always. Watching, helping. For now, he’s... part of me. I still haven’t gotten over how weird it is.”
Mom swallows hard. “We’ll figure this out. All of it.”
Brynn slides her legs off the bed, standing shakily. “First step, get me out of here. Before anyone slaps me with more of that balm.”
“Wait,” Dad says in my head. “First step, take your mom and sister to the family house.”
“Why?” I ask.
A beat, then: “I’ve an idea.”