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Mor

Not wanting to encounter my parents unannounced again, I seek them out this time.

They’ve booked a room at a bed-and-breakfast on the edge of Folk Haven, the place owned by a selkie, who I’m sure has no idea what type of toxic people she’s let into her abode.

When I knock on the door to their room, my mother slips out on quiet feet.

“Morgana, dear.” She gives me a wide, toothy smile that has always felt too menacing to me.

“You came to apologize, I expect.”

Uh, hell no.

“I wanted to talk to you,” I say instead of scoffing at her assumption.

“Of course. I saw a bench outside below an oak that is positively vibrating with magic.” She heads to the steps.

“Your father is sleeping.”

“They fixed his hand?” I follow her down the steps and out the front door, also preferring to converse out in the open.

Being inside with my parents feels too much like being trapped.

“Oh, yes. The healing witch here is much better than the one back home. Charges for the skills, but she reattached your father’s hand with barely a scar.”

“She is skilled,” I agree.

Maybe I should say, That’s good , or, Thank The Dark One he’s okay , or apologize.

But I can’t manage any of them.

All I can say is, “How long are you here for?”

They wouldn’t want to stay in a town where a werewolf is ripping off limbs, would they?

“Haven’t decided.” And as if she read my thoughts of werewolves, my mother begins to pry.

“That wolf. He went after your father because he’s Amethyst’s mate? Are they officially together?”

“Yes.” I keep the answer simple and unforgiving.

If our parents ever planned on matchmaking, they need to rethink it.

We’re all accounted for.

Thoughts of Bo’s grin come to mind, and the back of my thighs tingle.

But all through this, I make sure to keep my mental and magical shields in place so my mother cannot pick through and dissect my emotions.

“Is Ame pregnant?”

“What?” I bark the question, almost losing hold of my composure.

Meanwhile, my mother stares off into the distance, in deep thought.

“A witch and a wolf. Their offspring would be fascinating.” She blinks and refocuses on me.

“You’ll need to encourage her to procreate so we can find out what the mixture would bring about.”

Horror steals my words momentarily.

My mother speaks about a possible grandchild like a science experiment.

And I should have expected this.

Jack will kill them if they try anything , I attempt to reassure myself.

Not that they plan to have kids soon, if ever.

I don’t know where Ame stands on the subject.

But I do know that Zara—the harpy Anthony mated—is very interested in having a kid and that my brother is open to the idea of being a father.

What would our mother say about that?

Or Broderick and Ophelia?

Witch magic mixed with a firebird’s.

My mind returns to my years of growing up in their house.

The rare times they took interest in me.

What they made me do.

What they took from me.

The idea of my parents attempting the same on potential nieces and nephews has me wanting to rip off a few limbs of my own.

This is not happening.

We are not helpless children anymore.

I stand from the bench, towering over her.

“You need to leave Folk Haven,” I say in an unwavering tone.

“Nonsense.” She waves her hands, dismissing my words.

“Your father will work on a protection spell to ward off further attacks, and you only need to tell that wolf to keep his claws to himself.”

“I don’t care about your safety,” I snap.

No more than wanting them alive so Jack doesn’t get punished for murder.

“This town is our home, and none of us want you here. You were—and still are—terrible parents. Go back to Maine and forget about us.”

Her confused expression turns almost sickly sweet as she tilts her chin up to connect our eyes.

“I don’t think we will leave, Morgana.” She spreads her arms, palms up.

“You do not make the rules. And no matter how you feel, we’re still family.”

Dread condenses in my lungs until I can’t pull in a full breath.

So, I turn, risking giving her my back, and put all my effort into shielding my mind and aura so Helena doesn’t catch a hint of how much she scares me.

What am I going to do?