Persie Merlin and the Witch Hunters - Bella Forrest Page 0,75

as though I were teaching a lesson to two wayward children. “We won’t say anything,” she promised.

“Unless you say you’re an axe murderer,” Genie chimed in. “Then, we might have to say something. We’re not priests. We didn’t swear any oath to keep bad secrets.” In that moment, I knew the woman I adored had returned in one piece. If a piece of her soul had become trapped in the ether, she would not have been able to make her usual jokes. Even her eyes spoke of wholeness, glinting with their usual energy. Perhaps, she was just worried that I really was an axe murderer.

You’re going to hate me after this. I braced myself, knowing how the truth had affected her personally. Although, in a twisted way, it had also brought us together. Maybe that would be enough to stave off any wariness or hatred.

“I’m not an axe murderer,” I assured them. “But I am a Necromancer, which is probably fairly obvious.”

Persie nodded. “Yeah, I figured that out when purple Chaos started coming out of your hands and Genie started breathing again. I’ve never understood why Necromancers have to hide what they can do, though, like you’ve been doing. It’s a more ‘taboo’ ability, sure, but as long as you didn’t use it for bad stuff, why would anyone have a problem with it? Take Davin Doncaster, for example. He was the issue, not his powers. But then you’ve got Alton Waterhouse, who, by all accounts, only used it for good.” She paused. “Wait… if you’re swearing us to secrecy, does that mean Victoria doesn’t know?”

“No, she doesn’t.” I took off my glasses and wiped the fog away anxiously.

Persie scratched her temple in thought. “Is that why you kept it quiet, for job prospects?”

“Partially,” I replied.

“Wait a sec.” Genie’s thumb traced small circles against my hand, though I wasn’t sure if she was aware of it. “Necromancy is one of the only hereditary abilities… Is it something to do with your family?” Her eyes widened, as if the pieces were coming together. “Your dad! Has he got something to do with it?”

I exhaled wearily. “Yes.”

“Do we know who he is?” Persie leaned in, her intrigue palpable.

“Yes.” I hesitated, urging the revelation onto my tongue as if I were trying to cough up a fishbone. “My dad is… Davin Doncaster.”

Genie yelped, letting go of my hand and looking at me in shock. “What the hell?!”

I knew you would look at me differently. I stared down at my lonely hand, still feeling the circles she’d drawn on my skin. This reaction was precisely why I didn’t tell anyone. Who would want to be associated with the son of one of the world’s greatest villains? Even though he’d vanished off the face of the Earth and I had no idea what had happened to him after he messed with Atlantis, his reputation lived on. A black smudge on my entire life.

“Are you serious?” Persie’s eyes bugged out of her head. “Hold on a sec… That means the Grimoire that you’ve got is Davin friggin’ Doncaster’s Grimoire?! A book that every magical museum in the world would give their left leg for?”

I’d forgotten that I’d told her about that. However, there was one Grimoire that was, perhaps, even more sought after.

“It’s not quite as infamous as your Great Aunt’s, but yes.” I wasn’t being snarky, but I wanted to regain my footing somewhat, with a reminder that everyone had rotten eggs in their family tree—that didn’t mean the entire tree was bad. I didn’t know enough about Genie’s lineage to speak on it, but Persie’s family certainly had its villains. The worst in recent history, in fact.

Persie reddened. “Good point, well made.”

“I just want to make it clear that, as far as I’m concerned, I don’t even have a father.” I looked to Genie, willing her to look back. But she kept her gaze turned downward, her forehead crinkling with consternation. “Had I not been born with his ability, it would be an easier fiction to maintain. Even so, he’s never acted like a father toward me, and I don’t know, or care, where he is. I made the mistake of trying to find him once, and once was enough.” I twisted the bracelet on my wrist, recalling that error in vivid Technicolor. It made Genie look up at me, at last. “He made my mum believe that he loved her, saddled her with me, and then jumped ship, never to be heard from