“I scared you?” Gareth’s eyebrows shot up. “You’ve been gone for hours. You wouldn’t answer my calls, and I had no idea where you were. I was about to have Serena perform a tracking spell when Maggie finally called back and said she spoke to you. Do you have any idea how worried I was?”
“Well, no need to worry anymore,” I spat. “I’m home now. You can go.” I hadn’t meant to sound so cold, but the sight of him had refueled my anger.
“Lainey . . .” Gareth trailed off and hunched over, pinching the bridge of his nose.
When he sat back up and looked at me, pain and concern were etched all over his face. “Lainey, I—” He broke off as a rough sound choked him.
I swallowed the lump that had formed in my throat. I was absolutely furious at Gareth for keeping the truth from me, but as I watched him wrestle with his emotions, it was obvious that, real uncle or not, he cared about me. I suddenly felt very small.
Sighing, I propped the baseball bat back against the wall and plopped down on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry I ran out like that,” I said. “I didn’t mean to worry you. I just needed time to process everything.”
With a sigh of his own, Gareth nodded. “I get it, I do, but you can’t go running off like that. It’s dangerous. Now more than ever.” He ran his fingers through his hair and leaned forward, his eyes pleading. “I know you hate me right now, but I swore to protect you, and you have to promise never to do that again.”
“I won’t.”
Gareth, relieved at my words, sank back into his chair. “Thank you.”
I watched him for a few moments. “I don’t hate you,” I whispered, struggling to keep my own emotions in check.
He looked surprised. “You don’t?”
“No, I don’t,” I replied. “I’m angry at you for lying to me and keeping all those secrets from me—really angry—but I know you care about me, and I know you’d never intentionally try to hurt me.” I offered a small smile. “It’s been just you and me my whole life. You’re my family, Gareth. No matter how mad I am at you, I could never hate you.”
Gareth’s shoulders sagged, his eyes swimming with tears. “I didn’t think you’d still feel that way when you found out the truth.” He nervously tapped the sword in his lap. “In fact, after you left, I thought you’d never want to speak to me again.”
“I didn’t at first,” I admitted, “but now I think I understand why you lied to me. Finding out who I really am, what happened to Mom—it’s a lot to take in. I’m not sure I was ready before now. I’m not sure I could’ve handled it.”
Gareth nodded. “I never meant to keep this from you for so long. I just wanted you to be happy . . . and safe.” He picked up the blade in his hands. It was the smaller version of the sword I’d seen him practicing with, the dagger he had offered me down in the training room. “I made this for you, you know. I was planning to give it to you when I told you. It’s probably stupid, but I thought it might help you feel less afraid . . .” He blushed crimson. “I really am sorry, Lainey.”
“I know.” I leaned forward. “I’m fine. But no more secrets, okay? From this moment on, I need to know what I’m up against. There’s still so much I don’t understand.” I exhaled. “It scares me, but I have to know everything.”
Gareth nodded and placed a hand over his heart. “I promise. No more lying and no more secrets,” he vowed. “I’ll tell you everything I know.”
“Good.” I gave a tiny smile. “So, can I have it?” I indicated the dagger.
“Oh!” Gareth jumped up and placed the weapon in my hands. “Yes, of course.”
The dagger still felt foreign in my hands, but up close, I saw that the blade was engraved with an intricate design of greenery and daisies, my favorite flower. The meticulous design was not only beautiful but clearly one of a kind.
“They were her favorite too,” Gareth said. “Your mother loved daisies.”
I ran my finger across the smooth metal. “It’s beautiful.”
“If you let me, I’d like to teach you how to use it properly. You need to know how to protect yourself.”
I gripped the hilt tightly. It was more than a little strange to be sitting in my bedroom, holding a Faerie-made weapon—and even more so to imagine myself using it—but I nodded my head anyway.
“Great!” Gareth jumped up from his seat, his eyes wide and bright. “We can start right now.”
I stifled a laugh at his excitement. This was a side of Gareth I’d never seen before. “How about tomorrow? It’s late, and I need a shower.” I pointed to my clothes, which were still damp from the rain.
“Right, of course,” Gareth smiled and kissed me on the top of my head. “Get some sleep. We’ll talk more about training tomorrow.” He smiled again as he moved toward the door.
“Uncle Gareth?” I called out. “Before you go, can I ask you a question?”
“Sure.”
I took a deep breath. “You want to teach me how to use a weapon to protect myself, right? Well, what exactly am I supposed to be protecting myself from?”
Gareth’s face paled, and his smile disappeared.
“Serena mentioned that the same person who killed my mother might come after me,” I continued. “I need to know what I’m up against.”
Gareth swallowed and sat back down in the armchair facing me. The light in his eyes had faded, and his face was as somber as I’d ever seen it.
With a sharp exhale, he nodded and began to speak. “Centuries ago, there was a war between the various factions of the Supernatural realms. Witches, Lycans, Elementals, the Fey—everyone was involved. Even the Seers, who don’t normally get involved in such things.”
My eyes widened at Gareth’s words. I shouldn’t have been surprised by anything at this point, but Lycans? Elementals? Was everything real? Shaking my head, I forced myself to focus on the story.
“It was a bloody war, and thousands of lives were lost. It was as if the very fabric of our world was ripped apart, never to be whole again.” Gareth took another breath, as though to steady himself.
“You see, our world is meant to be balanced, each faction equal with every other. This balance is the only thing that protects us—our anonymity—from humanity. This civil war between the factions was threatening the system. If the humans were ever to discover our existence, an even greater war would be inevitable.”
“What were they fighting about?” I asked, leaning forward.
“Power. All great wars are fought over power,” Gareth said. “When the bloodshed became too great to continue, the leaders of each faction agreed to meet to discuss a peace treaty. The result of that meeting was the formation of a fellowship of sorts, a group of Supernatural representatives—one from each faction—chosen for the task of keeping the balance. They called it the Hetaeria.”