42. Cece
Cece
I’ve nearly driven myself insane imagining every possible scenario.
The questions won’t stop spinning in my head, each one louder than the last. I slip out for a break and head to the café near work.
It’s the only place I can breathe right now, away from Xan’s constant eyes.
Meeting here, at this hour, was the only choice that made sense, and the only option that wouldn’t raise suspicion.
Since the club, pretending everything is normal has been impossible. My father just appeared out of nowhere, and I’m supposed to act like it didn’t shatter everything I thought I knew?
I still don’t understand why I agreed to keep it a secret. Maybe I don’t owe him that. But I want to hear what he has to say.
The bell chimes as I step inside the café, the scent of espresso wrapping around me. I move quickly, claiming a table tucked into the back corner. A barista swings by, and I order an Americano before settling in to wait. My eyes stay fixed on the door, my pulse drumming in my ears.
Will he even show?
Minutes pass like molasses, and then . . . I see him.
He walks in, scans the room, and spots me instantly. He moves through the crowd and takes the seat across from me. It’s the first time I’m seeing him clearly without the shadows or flashing club lights.
“I’m glad you came.”
I don’t respond right away. I’m too busy staring.
His eyes mirror mine. I have his nose. His hands, too . . . God, even his hands look like mine. The emotion of this hits hard. A longing I’ve lived with my entire life punches through my chest.
But almost as quickly as it rises, it’s cut down by something sharper.
Anger.
“What’s this about, Jonathan?” I ask, my voice colder than I expect. It’s the only name I have for him.
Something flashes across his face. Pain, maybe. But he nods like he’s been expecting this.
“I understand you’re angry. And you have every right to be,” he says. “But I promise you I’m only here to help—”
“Yeah, you said that the other night,” I snap, cutting him off. “Now tell me why. Why do you suddenly care after twenty-seven years?”
He flinches.
Good.
“Fair enough, Chloe,” he says quietly. “I heard what happened to you. Your trip to Pomerium. I know you’ve drawn attention, not just from that world, but others too.”
My stomach twists. “How do you know about that?” My voice rises, frustration threading through every syllable. “Where have you been?”
He reaches out, trying to place a hand over mine, but I pull away before he makes contact.
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overstep,” he says quickly. “You have questions, I know. I can’t give you all the answers. Not yet. But there are things you need to know.”
His eyes lock on mine. There’s something there. Something intense.
“Have you noticed . . . powers?” he asks.
And the look on his face tells me he already knows the answer.
“I’ll take the silence as a yes,” he continues. “Everyone around you probably assumes your trip to Pomerium changed something. That it marked you somehow.”
I cut in before he can keep going. “Right. That, and that I died.”
His eyes widen. “Died?”
I stare at him, thrown. “Yes . . .” I say slowly, now second-guessing what I just said. “Isn’t that what you meant by marked?”
He watches me closely, something shifting in his expression. Whatever he was going to say, he swallows it.
“Death complicates things, sure,” he says, “but it doesn’t change the fact that your powers aren’t just appearing out of nowhere.”
There’s a pause. Then he looks at me cautiously.
“They’ve always been there,” he says. “Because you’re my daughter.”
I stare at him, still reeling. “And you are . . . ?” I ask, frustration creeping in. He’s sitting here dancing around the truth, and I’m tired of playing this game.
“My real name is Alistir,” he says. “I was born on Imperium. I’m a Warper.”
My vision tunnels, the café tilting just enough that I have to grip the table to keep myself upright.
Breathe. Don’t pass out.
This can’t be real. It cannot be.
“I don’t believe you,” I whisper.
But he doesn’t flinch. He just looks at me with this maddening, unshakable calm.
“Yes, you do. You just don’t want to. But it makes sense. The signs have always been there. You just didn’t want to see them once you learned of things beyond this place.”
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Deep down, I know he’s right. I hate that he’s right. But I know he is.
“Where have you been?” I manage, my voice cracking. I don’t even try to hide it.
He looks down for a moment, then back up at me.
“I stayed away for a while. There are reasons I can’t explain yet. But I made myself scarce so you could live a normal life. Here, in this realm. I wanted that for you.”
My mind spins. What even counts as real anymore? My life, my memories. All of it. Entirely built on lies.
“Then why now?” I ask, my voice strained. “Why is this all happening to me now?”
“Your time in Pomerium awakened something that was dormant,” he says. “And now, it’s not.”
He says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world, as if that alone should make everything make sense.
But none of this feels simple. Or normal. None of it even feels like mine anymore.
And then one more thing gnaws at me. Luc and Xan are so much older than I am, unimaginably older, but somehow I look their age while being centuries younger.
“What about my aging?” I ask. “Why do I age like a human, then?”
Some part of me still expects him to laugh. To tell me this is all a misunderstanding. A joke taken too far.
“Because you were raised outside our realm,” he says. “Your entire Warper side stayed . . . unactivated. It’s been suppressed. But now that you’ve been to Pomerium, things may change, and if you ever return, your aging will significantly slow.”
Of course. More changes to have to navigate.
I’ve had questions for my parents my whole life, especially for my dad, the one I never got to meet. But now, with the news he’s just dropped on me, it’s like every question I ever had has slipped away.
I sit here, frozen, staring at the man I’ve imagined for years, the man I’ve wanted to meet more than anyone. And I can’t think of anything more to say.
“Hey,” he says, pulling me out of my thoughts. I drag my gaze up to meet his. “I can’t imagine how much this is to take in. But unfortunately . . . there’s more.” He hesitates. “Others are interested in your abilities.”
“I know,” I cut in. “Surgers have already tried. And yes,” I lift a hand to stop him before he can continue, “I know they’ll try again.”
He looks surprised. But something else flashes across his face too, something he smooths over almost instantly.
“And what happened when they tried?” he asks, watching me closely.
“We were able to break the connection. The hold they had on me. I chose to stay,” I say, boiling down everything that happened that night into one sentence.
His eyes widen.
“I see,” he says slowly, clearly trying to process it. “And by we, that includes Lucien and Xanther?”
The way he says their names so casually feels strange. I nod, meeting his eyes again.
“But I don’t get it,” I say. “I’m only half Warper, so why do the Surgers care so much about me? It’s not like Warpers are new to them. So why me?”
The memory hits me then, something he said back at the lounge. The questions rush in all at once.
“And wait, you mentioned you knew how I could protect myself. How?”
He watches me carefully, then nods and reaches into the inside pocket of his coat. For a second, my muscles tense out of habit or instinct, but he only pulls out a small, palm-sized relic. It’s smooth and dark, etched with faint runes that continuously shift.
“This is part of it—protecting yourself,” he says, setting it between us. “But protection isn’t just about tools. It’s about understanding who you are and what you’re capable of.”
I raise an eyebrow. “That sounds like the beginning of a very vague speech.”
“It’s not vague. It’s just hard to say all at once.” He leans in slightly. “Cece, what you did when the Surgers tried to control you, that wasn’t just resistance. You severed a tether. That kind of ability is rare. Even among full-blooded Warpers.”
I glance down at the talisman. It’s smooth, black, with runes shifting faintly across its surface. “What is this?”
“A nullstone disruptor,” he says. “It’s a special obsidian stone from Imperium. It scrambles your energy. To anything hunting for your trace, you’ll register as nothing but static. It’ll buy you time . . . just not forever.”
I reach out and take it, turning it over in my hands. It’s lighter than I expected.
“Why now?” I ask. “Why didn’t you send someone sooner or warn me?”
“I couldn’t,” he says quietly. “They were watching me. Reaching out too early would’ve only put you at risk.
Despite that, I should’ve found a way. Honestly, I wish I had.
But I’ve been around you longer than you realize.
Watching you from afar, as safely as I could.
I even tried to guide you, through telepathy. ”
“That day of my run,” I say slowly. “Was that you in my mind? Warning me? Telling me to run?”
He gives a slight nod.
I don’t even know how to process this. I study his face again, searching for something—truth, regret, anything I can hold on to. I want to believe him. God, I do. But the pain of his absence, the years he missed, still sits heavy in my chest.
“And now?” I ask. “Are they still watching?”
“There’s always a chance,” he says, voice even. “But lately, their attention’s been elsewhere.”
I slide the talisman into my jacket pocket. “So what’s next? Do I wait around for the next attack? Hope I can break another tether?”
“No,” he says firmly. “Next, you train with me. You learn what you are and how to control it.”
Training. With him.
A man I’ve known for less than seventy-two hours. The man who should’ve raised me but didn’t. The last time I did this, it was with Luc. With Xan. People I trust. People who showed up.