Waindale

I struggle to recall all that was said to me as I hurry home. There’s no time to see my mother, not after what John Aymon showed me. Surprisingly, my mind feels clear, yet I try to remember certain things he told me, things that I know were important but didn’t seem to stick. The only thing that’s in my head like a blinking neon sign is that I am able to tell Adam. God, I can’t wait to show him. I can’t wait to see his reaction. I know he’ll be happy because I won’t be a sitting duck for all the world’s monsters to devour.

The truth is that I am not just a human; I’m the daughter of something magical, something so very beyond my previous understanding. When Adam said that there are things out there that could hurt me, I thought of vampires and witches and trolls and ghosts—but this? John Aymon hardly explained what he is. When Adam asks me, what will I say? That he is a celestial being? It makes him sound holy, like an angel. I wish I asked for clarity before heading back.

My father said we will talk again soon. I know that in the time until our next meeting, I must get used to the abilities he’s restored to me. My own powers—I feel like a superhero. The smile that took over my face outside of the diner hasn’t left.

I’ll tell Adam that I don’t know any specifics yet. There’s so much to learn, and I hope the next time we speak lasts for hours and hours. I could listen to him tell me about all the world’s mysteries—about what we are—for the rest of my life. All of this still feels like a dream. Other then my excitement to get home, the only other thing going through my head are prayers that I don’t wake up. If none of this is real, I’ll be beyond devastated.

When the house comes into view, I start to run. I rush down the road and onto the property. My hair picks up and brushes against my shoulders, floats in the crisp wind as the winter’s fingers stroke my neck. I’m up the porch steps in less than a second. The door is unlocked, and I slip through it with red cheeks.

“Adam!” I call. I venture into the house, following his scent to the kitchen. My feet hardly touch the floor. Energy courses through my body; energy and life that I’ve never felt before.

I grab the archway to the kitchen before flying past. Adam is there, he swallows a bite of something from the fridge, closes the metal door, and says, “It sounds like your talk went well.”

“You have no idea,” I breathe and come to him. “Oh, God, where do I begin? I have so much to tell you.”

“Your mother had answers to your questions, then?”

I pause. “No. I didn’t see her. Well, I was on my way to see her and then my father showed up. We went to the diner. We talked and he explained everything himself.”

Adam crosses his arms and leans against the counter. “Your father? How did he find you?”

I can hardly contain myself. My smile returns and my feet threaten to dance in every direction. I grab onto the counter all to stop myself from jumping up and down.

“What’s going on?” He asks.

“You won’t believe me,” I gush. “It’s too perfect. I-I can’t even believe it. I’ve been trying to convince myself that I’m awake and not dreaming.”

Adam seems concerned. He asks, “What did he tell you, Wrenley?”

“I can show you,” I say with confidence. “Just watch. He taught me this.”

Adam watches as I place my hand under the water dispenser on the fridge door. An ice cube drops to my hand and I hold out my palm for him to see. “Okay,” I murmur, “watch the ice cube.”

His chest rises as the ice cube melts rapidly in my hand. I shake the water off into the sink then face him with utter glee. “Did you see that!” I cheer. “I can melt things. I can make brown leaves green again. I-I’m sure I can freeze things if I tried.”

He remains speechless.

“Isn’t it amazing? Adam?”

His eyes find mine, but the severity behind them makes my chest tighten. “This man—he taught you this?”

“This man? He’s my father, not just some man.”

“Did he tell you what he is?” Adam asks, not wasting a moment to enjoy my newfound abilities. “And you’re sure he is your father?”

My face falls. “Of course I’m sure. How else could I do any of this?”

“What is he, Wrenley? Did he tell you?”

“Well, he said he’s a celestial being,” I explain, disappointed that he isn’t excited like I am. “That’s all I know. I don’t really know what it means, but he said that we’ll talk again in a...”

Adam turns, placing his hands flat on the counter as if he’s planing an attack over a map during war. His muscles tense and I wonder about my previous thoughts; what if he thinks I’m evil? What if what my father can do—what I am learning—is the power of dangerous, dark things to his kind?

“You cannot speak to him anymore,” Adam says bluntly. “You cannot see him.”

“What?”

He peers at me. “Promise me.”

Stepping back, I say, “I can’t promise that. He’s my father. He said he has so much to teach me. There’s so much I’m going to learn from him—about who I really am, what I really am.”

“This man—he’s dangerous, Wrenley.”

“I thought you might think so,” I say, ready to change his mind. “He really isn’t. He’s here to restore the power he’s kept from me since birth. I’m his only child; he said I’m important to him.”

“This power, it isn’t what you think it is.”

“How would you know? We’re the only two people on Earth with it. And it’s mine no matter what it is. W-Why can’t you just be happy? I’m not helpless anymore; I’m strong and I can do these amazing things. I thought you would be happy.”

Adam turns to me. “It is stunning, Wrenley—extraordinary. But such things shouldn’t be possible. I fear that this man—your father—isn’t as he appears to be. I’ve heard of such things from thousands of years ago, but those ideas have gone extinct. Your father—”

“You think he’s evil,” I mutter. “Imogen told me about turning humans into your kind, how it’s the workings of very dark things. She said that such capabilities would be from an evil power. You think he’s like that, don’t you?”

Adam’s gaze trickles down. “You said you can make dead leaves green again.”

“I did. I did it in my hands.”

“You can’t. You can’t do that anymore, understand?”

My lips part. My hands drop to my sides. “That’s isn’t fair. I don’t tell you whether you can transform or not.”

“It isn’t the same,” he says, his voice deep. “You can’t bring dead things back to life—it’s wrong.”

“You mean it’s evil,” I correct him. “You think what I can do is evil. Y-You think I’m evil.”

Adam grabs onto me, his hands hold either of my arms. ”You are not evil, Wrenley.”

He says it as if he must convince himself that these words are true and not me. I yank free.

“I know I’m not evil. I just hate the fact that your kind thinks I am. It’s unfair that you can stand there and say those things about my father when being a werewolf isn’t exactly the image of virtue. How can you judge us based on some old beliefs?”

“You’ve known the man for a day. He has yet to tell you what exactly he is. How can you trust him so blindly?”

Pressure builds in my throat from the surfeit of words desperate to spill out. I wish I was angry, but all I feel is pain. His judgment feels like rejection, like a saw being dragged back and forth to cut our bond. There is so much I want to say, but to carry on this conversation will only sharpen the blade.

“Please just stop,” I mutter.

Adam falls silent. His shoulders drop and his jaw clenches.

“Whatever you say about him applies to me. Whatever he is, I am too, so just stop. I wasn’t enough as a human, but now that I’m stronger, I’m too much. I-It just feels like a slap in the face at this point.”

Before he can speak, I say, “Don’t. I don’t want to hear anymore. I just thought you would accept me for who I am as I did for you because everything is mutual, right? If I’m willing to love you as you are, you should be willing to do the same for me.”

“It’s not you, Wrenley. It’s your father,” he dramatizes.

“I am what he is,” I nearly shout.

“You weren’t like this. He’s done this to you.”

I step closer as I shake my head. “This part of me has always been here. He just kept it from me to keep me safe. This is who I am.”

“Don’t tell me that this is who you are.” Adam’s voices rises with mine. “A man you met today told you all of this not even an hour ago. You don’t even know what it is that you’re claiming to be. This morning you were yourself, but now I don’t know what’s overcome you; I don’t know what he’s done to you. What you showed me—what you described—these are powers that originate from malevolence.”

“Don’t say that,” I plead. “That’s only what you’ve been told.”

“Did your father tell you that his abilities come from goodness? Or maybe something neutral? These things are gifted. Did he tell you the source?”

“W-What if there is no source? He wasn’t born here. He came here.”

Adam watches me carefully—my chest ready to burst.

“Then his presence on Earth alarms me,” he says.