Chapter 4

When Thea opened her eyes, all she saw was—

Well…

Saying “white” would be a bit…cliché. Not to mention inaccurate as fuck. White didn’t dominate her field of vision like it does for characters after getting caught in an explosion. Or knocked the fuck out. Or whatever else that effect was used for. It didn’t overwhelm her eyes to the point of complete and utter blindness, let alone take up half of her sight. If anything, white was an accent color. A swatch in the sea of greens, browns, blacks, and blues that greeted Thea on the other side of the wall. They practically drowned out the white, throwing her head-first into a darkness that gave her just enough room to…breathe. Breathe through the sledgehammers that pounded away inside her skull, rattling her brains ‘til they became pure mush. Breathe through the pinpricks that racked her body, leaving behind tingling skin and frayed nerves. Breathe until the sea ebbed away, revealing beyond their hazy waves a dense wall of giant trees, a lavender sky streaked with amber and scarlet, and—

“—ea!”

Chrys, who was standing right in front of her with their bags scattered around their feet and his black eyes filled with—

Wait.

Her eyelids fluttered, furiously blinking away the daze in her gaze. And yet, it did…nothing. Nothing to clear up the confusion that had taken root in her. No matter how long she stared, how hard she scrutinized every inch of her best friend’s face, Thea’s mind floundered. Practically at a loss as it tried to make sense of the fact that Chrys’s eyes were completely black. From the irises to the whites, they were devoid of all color. All but black. And it wasn’t just any kind of black, either. This strange shade, this perplexing-as-fuck hue, didn’t match the black you’d find in your pupils. Or in your hair. Or even in the clothes you wear. It was the pitch of the skies at midnight, the ebony that ruled the vacuum of space. Deep as the sea. Darker than a lightless room. But, at the same time, there was a sheen to it that gave off a subtle glow. An iridescent sheen Thea has only seen in pearls or opals, making the black in Chrys’s eyes less matte-looking and more marble-y.

In short, Chrys’s eyes had become inhuman. And Thea—on top of the many other things that happened over the course of today that were ripped straight out of the pages of the books that were supposed to be her escape from the hellscape known as reality—was having a hard fucking time wrapping her head around it. (Maybe not as much as the whole “her-English-teacher-turned-into-goddamn-monster” thing. But, still—) So much so that her legs gave out like a Jenga tower on its last supporting block, landing her ass-first on the ground with an unceremonious thud.

“…what the fuck,” she said, soft and slightly deadpan, cradling her head in her hands as she did. “Just…what…”

“THEA!” Chrys called out again, this time more startled than relieved. He dropped down right beside her, knees hitting the dirt with a little more grace than she had. One of his hands reached out, gently grabbing her by the shoulder. It got her to look up at him, even if his black eyes made her shudder something fierce. “What’s wr—?”

The words died on his tongue like a fly to a bug zapper, choking him with their abrupt end. Thea blinked twice. Head tilting to one side.

“Dude, wha—?”

“Your eyes,” he said, cutting her off. “Your eyes are—”

“E-Excuse me?” She cut him off right back, her gaze narrowing some as a scowl twisted into being across her lips. “My eyes?! What about yours? They’re—”

“—black. Just black. But, yours are…” A pause. Slowly, Chrys sucked in a sharp breath, rubbing the back of his neck as he did. “H-Hang on…”

Thea watched as her best friend turned around and reached for his rucksack. From one of its pockets, he pulled out a…mirror. A compact mirror, octagonal in shape and made of a ruby-red metal. Engraved on the lid was an image of a Chinese dragon, set against a lotus-like background carved from jade. Under the light of the setting sun, the compact gleamed, stealing her breath like a punch to the gut. A new wave of confused disbelief washed over her as Thea stared at it. Because, come on. She may have only known Chrys for less than a year now, but he definitely wasn’t the type of guy to keep a compact on hand. Much less one as fancy and expensive-looking as this. What use would he even have for it? None that Thea could think of. Unless—

With a press of a button, Chrys opened up the compact and held it out, forcing Thea to come face-to-face with her reflection. A reflection that got her jaw dropping faster than a glass cup to the floor, unleashing a gasp that stifled itself before fully coming out.

“…the fuck…?”

Her hand shook as she raised it up, fingers trembling even as she pressed them up against her cheek. The Thea in the mirror mimicked the motion, all while staring back at her with mismatched eyes. But not the kind of mismatched she was used to seeing. The left wasn’t black-brown, nor the right amber-brown. There was no trace, no sliver of brown to be found here. Only the same shade of black that was in Chrys’s eyes…and platinum. Not white. Not silver. Solid, moon-bright platinum.

“…Not gonna lie,” Chrys said after a hot second, a weak smile creeping across his face, “I am so tempted to make a ‘main character energy’ joke right now.”

“If ya do,” she retorted with a bite in her tone, “I’mma punt your flat ass.”

“Hey! Fuck you.” The weak smile withered, replaced by a faint pout. “My ass isn’t flat.”

Despite herself and the situation at hand, Thea couldn’t help but snort. “Uh huh. Suuure. And you ain’t a wizard, either.”

Throwing his head back, Chrys let out a long, almost whiny groan. He then closed the compact with a sharp snap, waving his hand a little as he did.

“Thea, for the last time, I’m not a fucking wizard.”

“Dude,” she started, “if it walks like a duck—”

“No.”

“—talks like a duck—”

“No!”

“—and looks like a duck—”

“Bitch—”

“—then it’s a motherfuckin’ duck!”

He threw his free hand over his face, eyes screwed shut and a Japanese cuss spat out of his mouth in a scathing hiss.

“Why?” her best friend grumbled. “Why are you like this?”

This time, Thea let out a laugh, bright and shoulder-shaking. All while flashing a grin that could put the Cheshire Cat’s smile to shame.

“Don’t deny it, Chrys,” she insisted. “You’re a wizard.”

Huffing, Chrys turned back towards his rucksack and slipped the compact back in its place. “No, I’m not.”

“A warlock, then.”

“Yeah…” Once he was sure the compact was secured inside its pocket, he snatched the rucksack by its straps and threw it onto his back. “No.”

The grin on Thea’s face wavered. “A sorcerer…?”

“I—”

The second he rose to his feet, hands poised to grab some of the luggage scattered around them, Chrys interrupted himself with a half-grunt, half-hum. His nose scrunched up, brows knitting themselves together as he grimaced.

“I…guess?”

“C’mon, man! I—” Thea had just pushed herself up into a squat, only to freeze in place with a bit of a splutter. “W-Wait… Wait, ‘you guess’?”

“I mean…” He waved a hand, motioning towards nothing in particular, while the other picked up his briefcase. “If we’re going off of technicalities, then—”

Like a firecracker, she shot to her feet, her response coming out in a near bark. “Technicalities? The hell does that even mean?!”

“It means that, since I was born with magic, that would technically make me a sorcerer. Since, ya know—” With a helpless shrug, Chrys held the briefcase out towards his steamer trunk. That caused a bunch of leather straps to pop into existence, pulled straight from the same leather that encased the entire exterior of the trunk. They immediately lunged towards the briefcase, wrapping around it in the same way snakes curled around their next meal, before securing it against the top. “Sorcerers get their magic through it being in their blood when they come into existence, not by being blessed or making pacts to get it.”

Thea blinked twice, jaw hanging slightly. Her eyes remained glued to the steamer trunk. Waiting for it to come alive again and snatch something else with its tentacle-like straps. Like one of her own bags, or maybe a random bird just passing by. But when the thing remained idle, even as Chrys grabbed it by one of its handles and rolled it closer to him, the tension thrumming under her skin relaxed some. Allowing her to mull over what he just said…only for her brain to bluescreen.

“…what?”

Taking in a shaky breath, her best friend gestured towards her luggage. Framed by furrowed brows and a clenched jaw, distress danced across his eyes, which were slowly returning to normal at this point. The black shifted back to brown, making it a little easier for Thea to look straight at Chrys without the uncanny valley effect clocking in.

“Look,” he started, slowly, “as much as I wanna explain every little thing I’ve been holding back from you, I… I can’t do that right now. Not when we’re out in the open like this. So, can you just…grab your stuff and follow me? Please?”

A sigh, low and heavy, wretched itself from Thea’s frowning lips. Nodding her head, she quickly reached for her stuff, slipping her rucksack onto her back while scooping up her suitcase and duffle bag in one fell swoop.

“Lead the way, Gandalf,” she said, flashing a tired smile all the while.

Time was hard to tell without a clock on hand. But, luckily for Thea, she had the sunset to go off of. And thus, there was some significant level of certainty in saying that they’d only been walking for several minutes or so before they arrived at…wherever the hell Chrys was leading her to.

At first, it didn’t seem like much. Just some large clearing in a seemingly random part of the forest, sprawling before them in all its verdant splendor. But—when you really pay attention to it—there were details about this field that were way too…weird to ignore. Thick grass as lush as can be reached up to Thea’s calves. Each blade swayed in the faint breeze, dancing around dozens upon dozens of wildflowers scattered about. Blossoming flowers with pearlescent petals that glimmered in the last rays of daylight, and burnished stems that were as colorful as that one metal she learned about in science class (bismuth, she’s pretty sure they’re called). Several feet ahead, a stone arch five times her size loomed over them, made up of uneven blocks that vary in size, shape, and rock type. A discrepant structure that one would think it’d be damn-near close to caving in on itself…but wasn’t, for one reason or another. Embedded across the top in pure gold, a series of letters spelled out the words “CAMP WALKER” in bold yet neat lines, contrasting nicely with the hot mess that was the arch. Large hedges made of leafy bushes and thorny briars formed walls denser than brick on both sides of the arch. They flanked out, continuing on for the whole width of the clearing before melting into the tree-line curving around them. Inside the arch was a distorted space that rippled like the surface of a murky pond, yet glowed with a light as warm and inviting as a fireplace in winter.

Thea zeroed in on the arch, eyeing the words scrawled across its top with a tilt of her head and her lips pursing into a small grimace.

“The safe haven you’ve been hypin’ up this whole entire time is…is a goddamn camp?”

“Summer camp,” Chrys corrected, pointing a finger up for emphasis.

Her eyes snapped back towards her best friend, wide and unblinking. “A summer camp?!”

“Okay, hold on”—He turned on his heels, then started walking backwards towards the arch—“I know it sounds…and looks…kinda sketch, but trust me! We’ll be safe here.”

If his legs weren’t so goddamn long and his steps quicker than her head, Thea would’ve smacked Chrys with either her hand or her duffle bag. Unfortunately, he was already at the arch by the time that lovely thought registered in her mind. The only thing she could do then was rush after him. All while watching on with gaping eyes as he shoved his steamer trunk into the center of the arch, which passed right through like a knife to butter.

“D-Dude,” she stammered. Thea stumbled into a stop at her best friend’s side, feet almost tripping over themselves in the process. “Did you just—?!”

“Thea, chill,” Chrys said as he turned towards her. “It’s just like the tunnel back at the Golden Gate.”

As if to demonstrate, her best friend threw out his arm and stuck it into the distorted space. A startled yelp lept from her lips at the sudden action, just to stifle itself the second it got out as Thea stared at the wavelets that rolled off around his shoulder. Silence was quick to slip in between them for just a beat. Then, with a wink, Chrys pulled back and waved a hand. A hand that was still whole and uninjured and attached to his body like it always was.

“See? Totally fine!”

Her palm met her forehead with a resounding smack. Sighing, she then shook her head and chucked her suitcase into the arch. It sailed through with a satisfying swoosh.

“…whatever.” Shwoop. Her duffel bag went in next, thrown with a bit more force than necessary. “Let’s just—”

A pair of howls, sharp as an arrowhead to a bullseye, struck the air with the force of a bellowing gong.

Thea and Chrys jumped, standing straighter than a pole with eyes so wide that they could’ve popped right out of their skulls. They turned on their heels. Gazes snapped towards where they’d just come from. Gawking like a couple of bug-eyed cartoon characters as the two-headed, snake-tailed dogs from before came barrelling out of the tree-line.

“Shit,” the two hissed out in perfect unison.

Beady eyes—one pair blood-red, the other icy blue—were a set of twin blades, boring into them with enough pressure to make Thea wince and Chrys shiver. Which just made the hounds snarl in delight. Bearing their razor-sharp teeth in a way that mimicked a smile.

“Fuck!” Thea and Chrys groaned, once again in unison.

With a Japanese cuss spat under his breath, Chrys threw his rucksack into the arch before pulling out his wands. Thea copied his movement, also removing her rucksack and tossing it aside with the rest of their luggage. But then she froze in place, staring down at her empty hands with a couple of slow blinks.

“Uh, Chrys—” she started, her voice cracking around the edges.

“Stay behind me,” her best friend said. He shifted about, adjusting his stance so that he was standing tall, with his feet spread out to match the width of his shoulders. Then, he aimed one wand (the bamboo-looking one) at the giant dogs. That made the German shepherd growl, raising its hissing tail up as it did. “And maybe figure out what you did back at the Palace so we can have a plan C on hand.”

Thea startled, choking on her own saliva as she whipped her gaze towards Chrys. “…the fuck happened to plan B?”

“I already got one in mind.” His eyes narrowed ever so slightly, just as the tip of his wand lit up like a neon-green bulb. The border collie let out a grating bark in response, jaws snapping and eyes shooting a glare that held the same sort of scorching intensity as the midsummer sun. “But it doesn’t hurt to have another backup plan waiting for us in the wings. Ya know, just in case ‘fucking shit up’ and ‘fucking shit up but differently’ doesn’t pan out.”

Oh—

They were fucked, weren’t they?

She had half a mind to tear her best friend a new one, to yell his ear off and tell him to come up with an actual plan for fuck’s sake. Or to just grab him by the collar and pull him into the arch with her, all while praying to whatever higher power currently listening in that the hounds wouldn’t follow after them. Because they were kids. And kids shouldn’t be fighting monsters all by their damn selves. Especially when they had an exit right there next to them, practically begging for them to take the easy route out. But, no— Instead of being smart or pragmatic about all this, Thea snatched the other wand out of Chrys’s hand and joined him at his side. Fist shaking as she raised it up and mimicked his aim. That got both hounds to start stalking towards them, their paws pounding at the ground the same way jackhammers thrashed at concrete.

“If we die,” Thea said, voice wobbly yet aggressive, “I’mma beat the shit outta you in the afterlife.”

Her best friend just hummed. “Fair.”

With that, Chrys jabbed his wand forward, emphasizing the motion with a stomp of his foot. A beam of crackling plasma burst from the tip in an instant, which then sailed through the air with the quickness of a bullet. The hounds tried to dodge. One (the German shepherd, Thea noted) ducked to the side, leaving nothing but the forest floor to bear the brunt of the attack. But the other… It took the blow. Struck right on its side, yelping at the top of its lungs as it hit the ground hard.

Meanwhile, Thea swung her arm and slashed the wand like a dagger. As she did, something tugged at her gut. Twisting and heating up her insides right when a deep, whooshing sound resonated all throughout the clearing. Echoing as a crackling arc of golden sparks and iridescent streaks shot out from the wand and hurled straight for the German shepherd. The blast threw it clean off its feet, sending the hound flying. Its back collided with a tree trunk in the blink of an eye, nailing it with enough force to break apart the rough bark and sturdy wood before crashing into the dirt.

Thea’s arm quickly fell limp at her side. Eyes wide and mouth fixed in an opened frown.

“…whoa.”

She glanced over at Chrys, who mirrored her features down to a T. From the slow-blinking stare to the dropped jaw, whatever Thea was feeling at the moment, her best friend felt it too.

“I…know I shouldn’t be surprised,” he started, slightly flat, “considering what happened back at the Palace. But…”

“…shit,” she finished with a slight hiss, her tone just as dazed as his. “I’m… I’m a wizard. A fuckin’ wizard! Like you!”

Chrys couldn’t help but groan. “Thea, fuck off already with that cra—”

Twin, ear-splitting growls cut him off. The border collie was back on its feet. Snarling at them with a bone-chilling ferocity, despite having a nasty gash that smoked and bled like a slab of partially-cooked meat. In a snap, it lunged for them. Teeth gnashing. Blue eyes searing. The move was so sudden—too sudden, in fact—that the only thing Thea could think to do was chuck the wand forward. As if it was some sort of throwing knife, and she had the aim of Hawkeye.

By some stroke of luck, though, the sharpened end nailed the hound right between the eyes of the left head…while the right got an arrow made of solid silver to the back of it. Like a freeze-frame, the hound stopped dead in its tracks. Flopping just a foot or two away in front of Thea and Chrys’s feet. Her jaw dropped. Chrys choked on air.

What the—?

The scent of sulfur and…cow dung (?!) invaded Thea’s nostrils, brought on by the hound crumbling into chunks of smoldering mush just seconds after falling to the ground. As if it’d been a sand sculpture that got knocked down by a tidal wave. She quickly threw a hand over her mouth, gagging back the urge to empty her stomach. Chrys, on the other hand, openly dry-heaved. Reluctantly kneeling down to retrieve his wand from the gunk pile.

“At least it’s not shit,” her best friend muttered under his breath. “At least it’s not actual shit—”

While he busied himself with cleaning his wand up, Thea turned her attention in the direction of where the arrow had come from. Towards the figure emerging from the tree-line right across from them. They stumbled in their step. Moving into the waning sunlight to reveal—

“Dad?!”

—a man that Thea knew all too well.

At first glance, she didn’t recognize him. Mostly because of the outfit he wore, which wasn’t anything like the stuff she saw stuffed inside his luggage. No nurse scrubs. No knitted sweaters or dark khakis. Instead, there was an off-white top with long sleeves and a turtleneck collar, layered underneath what Thea assumed to be armor pieces made of mahogany leather. Black trousers had their ends tucked into calf-high combat boots, made of the same leather as the armor, with holsters and sheaths strapped to the trouser legs. All of which were mostly covered by the burgundy cloak draped over him. But then, when he pushed back the cloak’s hood, Thea saw him. Saw his mane of dark brown locks done up in a low ponytail of thick twists. Saw that they both had the same deep brown skin with the same warm, bronze-y tinge to it. Saw the same facial features; from the soft, heart-like face shape and plump lips, to the broad button nose and strong brows. One look was all it took. And, when the recognition hit her like an onslaught of bricks, she ran. Sprinted across the field like a cheetah on crack. If her dad didn’t see her coming, Thea would’ve tackled him to the ground. Instead, though, he caught her with ease. Pulling her into a tight embrace as he gazed down at her.

“Th…Thea?”

Instead of the freaky, mismatched mess Thea got stuck with, her dad usually had amber-brown eyes (the very same shade that adorned one of her own). Except, right now, he…didn’t. Bright, piercing orbs of golden amber stared back at her. Like a wolf caught off-guard by a hunter.

“Moondrop, wha… What’re you doing out here?” he asked, his baritone voice pitching up some towards the end. “N-No, wait— Scratch that. Why are you here?”

“U-Uh…” Thea sucked in a sharp breath. Wincing a little as she gave her dad a sheepish shrug. “I-I…could ask you the same thing…?”

Actually…yeah. Hold up— She really could ask him the same damn thing. Because, as far as she knew, her dad was in Oakland. Settling in at some hospital he got assigned to after finishing his gig at Mount Sinai West back in New York. He should be in the Bay right now! Not out here in the middle of the goddamn woods, looking like some ren-faire geek. (Where the hell did he even get that outfit, anyways?! Some alt-fashion boutique? A costume store for dedicated cosplayers?)

Her dad’s mouth immediately snapped shut, twisting into a grimace that made wrinkles form in between his brows. Gingerly, he pulled away. Holding Thea at arm’s length with that caught-wolf stare. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. No, he just…looked. Looked at Thea as her expression morphed from shocked and sheepish, to confused and slightly heated. Until—

“Who are you?”

Chrys stepped forward, eyeing her dad with a scrutiny-laden gaze and hands holding onto his wands for dear life. She snapped her head towards him, an introduction on the tip of her tongue. But, her dad—

“No one special,” he answered, curtly. “Just a concerned father wondering why his kid isn’t in school right now.”

With the same sort of quickness, Thea whipped her attention back towards her dad. Head cocked to one side and brows furrowed slightly. A question was bent on being asked, but—

“Ya know, I’d believe you,” Chrys pressed on, holding up one of his wands to gesture it towards her dad, “if you didn’t have that last name.”

The caught-wolf stare shifted, turning into the glare of a prowling wolf. “And what’s so special about being called a Rousseau-Capello?”

Chrys visibly tensed, shoulders going stiff as his knuckles paled. Right as Thea narrowed her eyes and pursed her lips into a frown.

Why the hell were these two giving each other the third degree right now?

Her best friend opened his mouth, whatever he thought of responding with at the ready, only for her to beat him to the punch.

“Apparently,” Thea started with a bark in her tone, packed with so much heat that Chrys and her dad recoiled almost instantly, “you go from tossing annoying-ass bullies into ponds without touching them once—”

Her head snapped up, staring towards the sunset skies, which were now a streaked mix of pinkish amber and bluish lavender. Thea’s eyes then darkened, as if offended by such soft colors.

“—to spontaneously setting a whole building on fire as you square up with your bitch of an English teacher, who turned out to be an even bigger bitch of a monster. A fucking snake monster that tried to kill you and your best friend. All ‘cuz she thinks you jacked something from someone!”

A shaky huff slipped past her lips. One that sounded more like a throaty growl than anything else.

“Which I fucking didn’t. But that nasty-ass BI—!”

Like a candle in the wind, that sentence died halfway through. Swallowed back in a thick gulp when Thea lowered her head and looked towards her dad. All traces of the wolf previously plastered across his face were wiped clean by raised brows and a mouth caught in a half-gasp, half-frown. Strange amber morphed into familiar brown. Hands shook as he let her go.

“A… A monster tried…tr-tried killing you?”

His voice was barely above a whisper; a haunted exhale of breath that trembled worse than his hands. It had Thea’s stomach churning, her chest pinching ‘til her whole torso ached. Her anger became a balloon with several cuts all over the latex, deflating almost immediately at the sound.

“D-Dad—”

Thea took another step forward, reaching out. Only to be met with her dad taking a step back and placing a hand over his chest.

“This is all my fault,” he murmured, mostly to himself. Fingers dug into the stiff material of his breastplate. “I shouldn’t… I shouldn’t have kept this from you for this long.”

Another stomach churn. This one filled her guts with lead, making her knees wobble to the point that Chrys rushed to her side. His arms shot out, ready to catch Thea once she fell over. But all he hugged was thin air as she practically lunged towards her dad. Grabbing him by the cloak and tugging him forward.

“Kept what from me, Dad?” she asked, her tone leagues more steady than the frantic beating of her heart.

He took in a deep breath, letting it out in an exhale so slow that a snail could finish a mile-long race before he was done.

“…The truth.” Her dad raised his hand, then reached out to gingerly cup the side of Thea’s face. “The truth about…about what we are and…where me and your papa come from. A truth I’ve kept from you all these years because…”

A thumb gently brushed against her cheek. It made her lean into his touch, the vise-like grip on his cloak relaxing some.

“I was scared…and selfish,” he said. “Scared of you getting hurt, and selfishly determined to leave behind a life that’s brought me nothing but pain and loneliness. It’s the reason why I got the job I have now, why we move around so much and…”

Another deep breath. Another slow, shaky exhale.

“A-And why your papa isn’t in our lives anymore.”

As if the fabric of the cloak had burned her, Thea yanked her hands back. Dropping them down to her sides as her stomach plummeted six feet below her. She quickly averted her gaze. Eyes now locked on Chrys and the…complicated expression spreading across his features. He looked as though he had known what her dad was going to say, but still found himself stunned by such a confession. Which, in turn, didn’t do her or her frazzled brain any favors. She was already having a shit time as-is trying to accept this, that her dad…knew. He knew what she was. Not “who”. What. He knew about her being a special freak. Because of something. Something from his past, something that involved her…papa.

As far back as Thea could remember, it was always just the two of them. She and her dad against the world. He was the only parent she had in her life; the only adult that took care of her and kept her company when she had no one else. But Thea was well aware of the fact that she, like most kids, had two parents. Two people that came together and brought her into this world, all because they loved each other with everything they got. It’s just that she never really thought about her papa all that much. He—as her dad had explained it to her when she was around six or seven years old—went back to his family upstairs before she was born. Coupled with her being unable to have any solid memories of him and the fact that talking about him made her dad feel like absolute shit (which Thea liked to avoid at all costs, thank you very much), Thea had very little to get attached to. The man known as her papa was dead, and she literally could do nothing about it. She couldn’t mourn. She couldn’t even reminisce. Thea barely knew the dude. There was no emotional connection, no semblance of a relationship giving her grief. The only feeling she had for him was a vague sense of gratitude because of what he meant to her dad. She may not know much about the life her dad used to have before meeting her papa, but she knew well enough through the brief shade he threw every now and then that his family royally sucked ass. And, thanks to her papa, his life got better. He could handle all the smoke his folks gave him, now that he had somebody in his corner. Somebody that made him truly, genuinely happy whenever the two of them were together. Not to mention that Thea—the one her dad loved to call his “precious moondrop”—wouldn’t be here without him. Her papa was responsible for a lot of things, point blank. But, with him being dead and all, he couldn’t be the parent he should’ve been. And Thea couldn’t get attached to him like any kid yearning for a second parental figure wanted to. So it was pretty much a no-brainer, her becoming so neutral about a parent that never played a major part in her life (other than contributing to her birth, of course).

Though, now with the straight-up shitstorm she got herself into and the fact that her “specialness” had something to do with her papa’s death, maybe it was time to rethink her neutrality on the guy. And perhaps also consider the idea that some of the crazy crap she’s done so far came from him.

“Dad, wh—?”

Just as she turned back to face her dad, Thea was met with the German shepherd back on its feet. Red eyes ablaze. Blade-esque teeth bared. The air rumbled with its snarls, trembling as if shook by thunder. Then, like an Olympic sprinter setting off, the hound bolted forward. Dashing towards them with no sign of slowing down. She cried out a warning, right as her dad made like a human shield and jumped in the hound’s path. Letting himself bear it, being tackled to the ground instead of her or Chrys.

“DAD!”

If Chrys hadn’t grabbed her by the arms and dragged her back at the last second, Thea would’ve joined her dad in wrestling the giant dog off of him. Which, in all honesty, would’ve been a dumbass move to make. As her dad was already having a bitch of a time, trying to stop the hound’s heads from biting his face off by throwing up his arms in an “X” formation and summoning a circular shield made of gleaming bronze from his arm guards. She just would’ve gotten in the way, adding in some very unnecessary stress to her dad’s already-loaded plate. Even still, that was hardly a comfort when the hound’s snake tail decided to do something for once. Acting faster than either Thea or Chrys or even her dad could catch, taking them all by surprise as it pounced. Burying its fangs in her dad’s side; one of the few spots not fully covered by armor. In an instant, he froze. Limbs falling limp around him. Shield retracting back into the arm guards. All accompanied by a strangled shout, an ear-piercing howl, that drowned out her and Chrys’s screams.

“NO—!”

“MR. CAPELLO!”

With a satisfied huff, the hound pulled back. Snake-tipped tail rattling out a hiss as it swayed behind the German shepherd like a wagging tail. Beady red eyes leered at Thea for a split second. And then, the damn dog rushed forward. Only to get a gust of wind to the face, unleashed by Chrys swinging one wand in a sideways arc. Knocking it back several feet away from them. But she paid no mind to any of that. Not when her heart was in her throat. Nor when her blood ran colder than ice water. She just rushed to her dad’s side, kneeling down next to him while zeroing in on the patch of blood seeping into existence on his right side. Staining the fabric of his top crimson…and gold…and silver—

“Dad,” she cried again. Tears stung at her eyes, blurring her vision around the edges. “Dad, are you okay?!”

Wincing, her dad slowly turned his head. Glancing up at her as Chrys hurried over to his other side and helped him sit up. Any fucks given about the pain he was in were thrown out the window, completely ignored so he could shoot Thea a stern look while nodding his head.

“I-It… It’s just a bite, Moondrop,” he slowly said. His words were a quavering hiss, forced steady through clenched teeth and firm eyes. “I’ll be…fine…”

The atmosphere went still and silent. Or, well— As still and silent as it could be with a snarling, snake-tailed hound and Thea on the verge of flipping her shit for the nth time today. The sun was just inches above the horizon now. Starting its dive down below and taking it with the last amber slivers of daylight, leaving nothing but the deep purple-blues of twilight in its wake. Chrys was staring the hound down. Half kneeling and half standing, with his wands drawn and lips twisted into a stony scowl. And Thea…

Currently, her eyes were on her dad. Watching him try and fail to stand up, to turn around and face the hound head-on. All while he kept saying—kept fucking insisting—for her to just…go. Go and grab Chrys. Go and get the hell out of here. Go so he can deal with this damn monster like the capable adult that he was. Which was a noble sentiment, all things considered. And definitely something Thea would’ve gladly listened to…if her dad didn’t look like he was seconds away from conking the fuck out. Because, no. Hell to the no. After the day she just had, Thea wasn’t going to leave her dad behind. Not when he was this injured. Not when Chrys’s summer camp/safe haven was right behind all of them. Not…

Not when all of this was her fault. Her fight.

The hounds were after her. They showed up right after she exploded Mrs. Drake’s scaly ass. Not Chrys. Not her dad. Not some other asshole that happened to be in the same fucking vicinity. All of this went back to Thea. Which meant that she had every right—every goddamn right—to fight. To face off with this nightmare of a German shepherd and end it like she did with the other cow-sized hound. Fuck what her dad said. She wasn’t going anywhere.

And so, with the quickness of a dart, Thea jumped to her feet. Snatching the pillar wand right out of Chrys’s hand as she did, so she could march up and aim its pointed end right at the hound’s head. It sneered at her. Red eyes practically gleaming with mirth while it strode forward. Huffing out a bark that sounded suspiciously like a cackle. Yet Thea didn’t give two shits about it. She simply narrowed her eyes at the canine pest. Hand holding the wand in a grip so tight that her fingers ached.

“Thea—” Chrys started to say, right as her dad hissed out, “Moondrop, don’t—!”

It was like a rewind button got hit, the way that tugging sensation from before came back with a vengeance. But, instead of her insides being twisted around and set on fire, Thea felt…cold. As if there was ice in her veins. As if she downed a large slushie in one go and got one hell of a brain freeze for her troubles. The cold started in the depths of her stomach, frosting over every nook and cranny it could reach. Then it shot up her spine like an electric jolt. Stopping at her chest just as the tip of the wand was encased in a silver glow, crackling with the same sort of energy she had shot at the hound before.

Except—

Rather than an arc of sparks and streaks, the wand fired out two projectiles. Two speeding beams of pure light, nailing the German shepherd right in between the eyes of each head with the force and din of a gunshot. Like its fallen buddy, the hound died mid-sprint. Collapsing into a pile of burning glop that reeked of sulfur and cow shit.

Thea gagged. Lowering the wand as she scrunched her nose at that god-awful stench. “Ugh, that is nasty.”

Shaking her head, Thea then turned to her dad, who stood on unsteady legs and with his back as straight as he could manage. One hand clutching at the wound on his side as he stumbled closer. Brows furrowed in both pain and worry. Eyes scanning her face for something she couldn’t name.

“Moondrop,” he murmured, soft and hoarse.

“Dad,” she said right back, breathless. “Dad, I—”

Suddenly, like a knife to her throat, a roar ripped through the air. Cutting her off with a blood-curdling sound, echoing through the forest in a wail that had all three of them flinching in near unison. Chrys rushed to his feet right as Thea stumbled back. Bodies colliding in a way that would’ve knocked them both down if they didn’t catch themselves at the very last second.

“That…doesn’t sound good,” Chrys pointed out oh-so eloquently. “Like…at all.”

Her dad merely shook his head, grabbing their shoulders as he pushed the two of them back.

“Which means you need to get out of here,” he said. “Now.”

Thea and Chrys glanced over their shoulders, staring up at the arch. Under the light of the fading sun, the golden letters seemed to glow. Gleaming a bright and blinding white. Like the beacon of a lighthouse, or the sear of a spotlight. Beckoning them to join their luggage on the other side.

While Chrys nodded his head and started jogging over, Thea turned back to her dad. A grimace twisted across her face while she squeezed the wand in her hand for some pressure to ground her.

“Hope they got a good infirmary here,” she said, a weak chuckle laced in. Thea tried hard to not think about it too much, how her dad had one hell of a wound bleeding out from his side. But, with them being just moments away from entering this safe haven/summer camp, Thea had to consider what sort of crap summer camps had that could be of use right about now. Since, well— Her dad was injured and she, despite also going through some near-death shit herself, kept his well-being as a high priority on her list. “That bite is probably gonna need hella TLC, so—”

“I’m not coming.”

It took Thea turning around and taking three whole steps forward to really register what he’d just said. And a whole-ass minute to contemplate the implications brimming between the lines. And a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it second to try and stomach that shit, only for stone-cold lead to encase her heart and drag it down into the depths of her stomach. Slowly, she whirled on her heels. Wide, mismatched eyes met steady brown.

“What?”

“Thea, I’m not coming,” her dad repeated, firmly. Resolutely. As if him staying behind was nonnegotiable.

Yeah fucking right.

“You— I— No.” She stomped her foot, as if to punctuate the word. “No, wha— Dad. I’m not going anywhere unless you’re coming too!”

A tight smile crossed his mouth; a painful curl of lips that had no place on her dad’s face. Carefully, he slipped off his cloak and crossed the small space that divided them.

“Moondrop, somebody has to distract whatever’s out there so it doesn’t follow you and your friend into that camp.” He paused, then draped the cloak over her shoulders. “If I’m gonna make up for all the stupid crap I’ve put you through for a good majority of your life, making sure that you get out of here safe and sound is how I’ll do it.”

Bullshit. That was bullshit. Yeah, Thea’s life wasn’t ideal. If you took a shot every time something remotely crappy happened to her, the grim reaper would nearly snatch your ass with the help of alcohol poisoning. But that wasn’t her dad’s fault. Not completely. Keeping secrets from her sucked. Being left in the dark sucked. Knowing everything except the important stuff sucked. But you know what sucked even more? Being complaisant. And that’s what Thea was when faced with her dad’s aversion to talking about the nitty-gritty details of their lives, and his insistence on her focusing on whatever was more important at the moment.

You wouldn’t think so, right? But that’s the truth—Thea was just as guilty as her dad for all the holes and secrets she had to endure. He never told, and she never pressed. As frustrated and angry as she was, the thought of confronting her dad and demanding a more in-depth explanation hardly crossed her mind. Sure, it would’ve done her a whole lot of good if the things she knew about her dad or herself or anything else related to them weren’t just superficial. But, at the same time, would learning more about his past or the things that led to them living the lives they had do her any good? That was the question that kept her mouth shut, the possibilities that made her dread the answers she sought. If there was anyone Thea wanted to blame for the horseshit that was her life, she had a good selection of assholes at the ready. (The universe, herself, whoever the fuck her dad’s boss was, Wyatt Dickson, that petty bitch she had for a 4th grade teacher…) But not her dad. Never her dad. All he’s ever done was try to be the best parent he could possibly be for her. And that was enough for Thea, contrary to the curiosity that smoldered in the back of her mind.

The words were right there, begging to be let out. Pleading to be told so that she could properly tell her dad off for thinking such shitty thoughts like that. But they never came. They died in her throat, wilting away as trees to the left of her exploded. Splintered trunks and torn branches flew in every direction as Mrs. Drake burst out of the tree-line in all her serpentine glory. Or as glorious as a spontaneous arson victim could be. Second and third-degree burns decorated her skin like fucked-up tattoos. Scales were either blackened and close to falling off, or had left behind patches of gooey flesh dripping with that gross, globby liquid she had for blood. Hair singed and reeked of smoke. The gash Chrys gave her back at the Palace hardly healed over (though it wasn’t bleeding out anymore, thank fuck). But, even with injuries that would’ve been straight-up fatal to a normal-ass person, that didn’t stop Mrs. Drake from trying to terrify her. Charred quills stood on end—the same way those tiny hairs on your arms did when you got goosebumps. Or when that one species of lizard flares out that weird frill-thing on their neck to make themselves look bigger than they actually were. Her maw opened so wide that her jaw snapped and cracked, as if she was unhinging the bone and prying it off its joint, releasing a roar so loud that the ground underneath them convulsed with earthquake-worthy tremors. The one good eye she had left blazed quasar-bright. A glare, greener than grass but hundred times more poisonous, left Thea with enough nausea that could make her puke her guts out right then and there.

“You were lucky once, Thea Rousseau-Capello,” Mrs. Drake spat with a slimey hiss on her tongue, “but you shall not be lucky twice. Escape is no longer an option.”

Tough shit, Thea wanted to say. Even though her ex-English teacher’s reappearance scared the everloving shit out of her, Mrs. Drake’s threat barely got under her skin. Because, despite everything, Thea knew deep down that Mrs. Drake wasn’t unbeatable. Or invulnerable. If she (with at least one person’s help) could take down a couple of cow-sized dogs with two heads and snakes for tails, then she could kill a snake lady covered in quills. Hell, she almost did! Thea just needed to pack a harder punch now. Or explode her ass in a different way. Escape wasn’t just an option; it was a plan she was setting in motion. And Mrs. Drake wouldn’t know what hit her ‘til it’s too late.

A snarl, deep and gravelly, hit her ears like the boom of a bass. Thea quickly whipped her head around and found a large, bear-sized wolf standing right where her dad was just seconds ago. A wolf with thick, coarse fur colored like her dad’s hair, smoldering eyes the same golden amber her dad sported when she ran into him, and a blood-soaked patch covering an area of its body similar to where her dad’s wound would’ve been. Gritting its teeth, the wolf’s muzzle snapped open and let out a howl for all of the forest to hear.

Mrs. Drake hissed at the sound, pausing for just a second. But a second was all that wolf needed to lunge forward and attack the snake bitch head-on. For every swipe of her talons and swing of her tail, the wolf countered with twice as much energy. Jaws snapped at any body part it could reach. Clawed paws tore into flesh and scales. Furry sides slammed into the space where her human torso met the start of her serpent tail. If Thea thought the snake bitch looked fucked up before, these new gashes and bruises really took the cake. The disgusting, ain’t-no-way-in-hell-anybody’s-eating-this-crap cake. And it was all thanks to this wolf. A wolf that was…her dad.

God, this shouldn’t even surprise her at this point. But it did, it fucking did. Because— Holy fuck. That was her dad. Her dad! Her dad’s a goddamn werewolf. He had the power to turn into a whole-ass wolf whenever he fucking wanted. Had the superstrength and superspeed and whatever else werewolves had up their furry sleeves. (Crazy inhuman endurance? Louder-than-normal howls? Something related to the moon, because moon motifs are the shit in werewolf-centric content?) There was literally no other way to rationalize it, unless Thea was itching to do some Olympic-level mental gymnastics. Which she wasn’t. So, fuck it, she’ll take Occam’s sword (or whatever the hell Mr. Yılmaz called it) over any batshit explanation she could pull out of her ass.

Still— Even with that explanation filling the gaps, nothing could quell the pit forming in her stomach as a flurry of thoughts terrorized her brain cells. Contemplative thoughts surrounding what she was and the things she could do. Like, if her dad could turn into a wolf, then…could she do the same? Was she a werewolf too? And, if that was the case, where did the spontaneous arson and spell-casting come from? Her papa? Was he some flavor of magic-user, or something else entirely?

…

…fuck.

Thea did not have the energy to think this shit through right now.

It didn’t help any that, alongside her werewolf dad fighting the snake bitch that nearly killed Chrys with nothing more than a squeeze of her tail, said best friend decided to join in on the action right as Mrs. Drake carved a nasty gash into her dad’s side. The very same side that the hound’s snake-tail chomped on. So dangerously close it was to the previous wound that he howled out in pain, which sounded too much like a scream in Thea’s ears. Chrys cursed under his breath before firing off a spell straight at the snake bitch’s shoulder. A hissing screech slipped past her gnarled lips as a beam of light striked its target, leaving behind a gaping cut that spilled out tar-esque blood like water from a fountain. Mrs. Drake quickly pulled back, only to snarl ruefully at Chrys before lunging forward.

Fuckfuckfuckfuckfuckfuck—

What the hell was she even doing, standing there like a braindead chump while the only two people she cared about faced off with a fucking monster? Chrys almost died because he decided to play hero and fight Mrs. Drake back at the Palace. Not to mention her dad had to deal with a gash the length of her forearm on top of a potentially poisonous snake bite. Ain’t no way were either of them in any condition to deal with this, even if one was a Merlin wannabe and the other a goddamn werewolf. Thea had to help. She needed to.

Her gaze instantly locked on the wand in her hand. So far, she’s been two-for-two with this thing. Maybe another spell could do the trick—

Almost in tune with the moment she raised her head and turned her attention back towards the fight, a deafening scream—one so loud that you could probably hear it all the way from either Canada or Mexico—knocked her back. Chrys was a blur as he flew right on by, thrown straight through the arch and disappearing behind the shimmering mass inside. And…her dad…

“NO!”

He was down on the ground, lying on his side in a pool of crimson, gold, and silver. Stiller than stone. Silent as a corpse.

No.

Nonononononononononono—

“How…disappointing,” Mrs. Drake sneered. A sickly sweet smile graced her marred lips as she glared down at the wolf. “And here I thought you would put up an actual fight, godling.”

She paused, then clicked her tongue.

“Oh, well— At least your death will be satisfying to watch.”

The whole world moved in slo-mo as Thea rushed forward, watching helplessly as Mrs. Drake swung her tail and slammed it down. Down on her dad. The moment the tail connected with his body, bronze smoke burst into view. Engulfing the space ‘til the monster slithered back, fading as fast as it came. Thea fell to her knees at the serpent’s roaring laughter. She screamed over its cruel taunts and callous cackles, drowning out the awful noise so she could stare at where her dad once was in some pathetic, piss-poor excuse for peace. Fingers clawed at the dirt below. Sobs and shouts shook every inch of her ‘til her whole frame ached in a way it never did before. Tears overwhelmed her line of sight, turning everything but the blood pool into vague blotches of shapes and colors.

This wasn’t happening. This couldn’t be happening—

But it was.

Screams morphed into snarls as her eyes glared daggers straight at the monster. A raging fire filled her eyes, burning so fervently that it could raze this damn forest in a matter of seconds. She rose up with her head held high. Hand clenching down on the wand in a suffocating, vise-like grip. Gaze set on the serpentine bitch, who bared its teeth in a smug smile at her. Such a smile reminded Thea of those looks it would give to the kids of Goodwin back when the monster was known as Mrs. Drake; back when life was simple and the worst her stupid English teacher did was be a cold-hearted cunt to every kid that had the misfortune of taking that class. That same mocking grin that plastered itself across its face whenever it gave a kid detention or dealt out punishment like a guilty verdict. A look of pure, twisted pleasure—as if the monster got off on the thought of making someone suffer. It made Thea’s blood boil, her glare sharper, her growls louder.

Blinding red and kindling gold consumed her vision. Every single thing around her became nothing more than a hazy figure fading to nothingness. Neither Chrys’s cries or the shouts of new voices reached her ears; their words (whatever the hell they were) got drowned out by the din of crackling electricity and her own wolfish howls. The burning pang of new wounds sprouting all over her body, and the scalding sting of new tears streaming down her face got confused with the coldness of grief, numbing every inch of her with its freezing touch. Even the monster she was fighting, the very creature that murdered her dad only a few moments ago, was far from crystal clear. Every slimey hiss and venomous curse it spat—every deep gash that gushed out black sludge and every burn that turned scaly skin into smoking embers—did not register in Thea’s mind. Not even when the both of them were eye-to-eye, when Thea drove the wand into its chest (right where the heart should’ve been) and twisted it with all her might. The chance to fully appreciate the fact that she had front row seats to watch as the life drained from the serpent’s eyes had slipped through her fingers. All because one thought and one thought alone dominated her mind.

Dad was dead.

Dad was dead.

Dad was dead because of me—

Glassy eyes stared agape at Thea. Maw opened in a silent scream, its head lolled back as cracks formed at the very spot where the wand pierced through. They spread across the monster’s slack body like hairline fractures on glass. Tearing the body apart at the seams. Reducing it into nothing more than a crumbling, clumpy mass of moldy sand and tar-like muck. It was then Thea realized too little too late that she was falling. Crashing onto the ground with a choked shout, her head slamming against a tree root that poked out from the dirt. Her vision blurred again as she ragdolled. Gauzy dots danced across Thea’s eyes…until all she saw was white.