Chapter 67: Vile Magic 2
SÉVERINE
"No."
The word came out steadier than I felt. My hands gripped the edge of the table hard enough that my knuckles went white against dark wood.
"Grandfather, I’m sorry."
His expression didn’t soften. If anything, the fury written across his features deepened. The lines around his mouth pulled tighter. His eyes narrowed into slits that reminded me of a predator deciding exactly how to deliver a killing blow.
"Séverine." My name came out like a curse. "You have already killed someone. An innocent man that wasn’t even your target."
The accusation landed like a physical blow. My stomach twisted.
"How could you be so sloppy?"
"It wasn’t my fault!" The protest burst from my chest before I could stop it. Tears spilled down my cheeks. Hot, fast, and useless. "He has a fated mate bond with the girl, and he didn’t tell me. He never told me, Grandfather. How was I supposed to know?"
My grandfather’s hand slammed down on the table again. The silverwares jumped in response. My coffee cup rattled in its saucer hard enough that liquid sloshed over the rim.
"Anyone with a fucking brain would see that he had history with the bitch!" His voice rose to a volume that would carry through walls if anyone was close enough to listen. "You think I’m blind? You think I didn’t notice the way he obsessed over Beaumont? The way his whole body tensed when the subject matter had to do with Beaumont and how quickly he brought up the idea of marriage to keep Beaumont connected to us instead of the war he initially recommended?"
He leaned closer. His breath came harsh and angry against my face.
"I tried to help you. I warned you this path would end badly when I called for that meeting with Alpha Dorian, which he hijacked. And what did you do? You spat in my face. You said it would be no problem at all." His lip curled into something between a sneer and a grimace. "And now that it is a fucking problem, you’re throwing tantrums and killing people."
The tears came harder. I pressed my palms against my eyes, but it didn’t stop them. Nothing stopped them once they started.
"This is why your father cast you out."
Everything went cold. My hands dropped from my face. The world narrowed to a single point of understanding that felt like falling through ice into water that would never let me surface.
I froze.
Did he just pull that card?
"No... Father cast me out because he didn’t love me."
The words tasted like ash. I’d told myself that story so many times it had become truth. I had repeated it until I believed it with every fiber of my being. My father hadn’t wanted me. He’d chosen his new family over the daughter who reminded him of mistakes he’d rather forget.
My grandfather’s expression shifted. Something passed across his features that looked almost like pity mixed with exhaustion.
"He tried." The anger drained from his voice, leaving behind something worse: resignation. "Despite your mother abandoning you for coming out as a hybrid and not a pure witch like her, he loved you. He raised you the best way he knew how."
I shook my head. The movement was violent enough to make the room blur.
"But you favor your mother, just like your mother favored her mother." He continued, as if I hadn’t tried to deny it. "In fact, I am starting to believe that you’re worse than those two."
The accusation carved through whatever defenses I had left.
"I don’t know where my son-in-law and I went wrong with you." He sank back into his chair. The fight seemed to leave his body all at once. "But you cherish your darkness. You like being covered by it."
"That’s not true."
"There were only so many dead Omegas he could tolerate, Séverine."
My throat closed around air that wouldn’t satisfy my lungs. I knew where he was going now that he was mentioning dead Omegas. It was a sordid memory from when I was younger. When I’d first bound myself to my familiar and was learning to control magic that fought against every attempt at restraint.
"I was young." My voice came out strangled. "I couldn’t control my magic. I didn’t have a mother with the knowledge to raise me about my gifts. What I had by my side was a familiar who did not have mortal-like morals."
"Your father must have tried. He would have taught you."
"But he didn’t!" The words exploded from my chest. "He sent me away instead. He chose his perfect new family over the daughter who needed him most."
My grandfather covered his face with both hands. His shoulders sagged forward like the weight of this conversation was physically crushing him.
"That cannot be true, granddaughter. Because I know for a fact that he did."
The statement came out muffled behind his palms. So quiet I almost missed it beneath the blood rushing through my head.
"What?"
His hands dropped. When he looked at me, his eyes held something that made my stomach turn.
"He went against his own morals. He even killed the rest of the Omegas who knew what you really were." Each word came out measured and deliberate. "To protect you. To allow me use that to sell a lie about your mother being attacked and killed by rogues."
The room tilted sideways. I gripped the table harder to keep from sliding out of my chair.
My father had killed for me? He’d murdered innocent people to cover up what I’d done? He did horrible stuff to protect me from consequences I should have faced? That did not sound like him.
"You’re not a child anymore." My grandfather’s voice dropped lower. "And you’re still doing it."
"I can control it now."
"Can you?" He gestured toward the window. Toward the gardens beyond, where a sentinel had died because my familiar had gone too far. "Because the evidence suggests otherwise."
"That was different. I was desperate. I needed to know if they were truly mates, and my familiar just went further than I intended."
"Do you hear how insane you sound? You killed someone to find out information that you can figure out if you look hard enough. Goddess, even I can see it, and I am not close to the boy."
"I am sorry."
"Those are just words... With the way you are going... You will reveal yourself soon." He leaned forward. "Can you not stop?"
"I will." The promise came out too quickly and too desperately. "I have. I just wanted to know something this one time. Is that such a bad thing?"
"A sentinel!" His composure shattered. The words came out loud enough to echo off the dining room walls. Then he seemed to catch himself. His voice dropped to a whisper that somehow felt more threatening than the shouting. "A sentinel died. These are people with families and lives. They’re not objects you can sacrifice whenever you feel like it. This is why magic users were excommunicated. They cannot be reasoned with. You are a hybrid and yet... yet... You still cannot see the world the way we do."