LOUD VOICES SHOOK THE ROOM I laid in, assaulting my head in another pounding migraine. It jarred me awake from the blackness I wanted to settle myself inside of. Once again, the urge to hit someone was overbearing. I flinched against the ache in my skill. The feeling of a hammer, banging along the insides of my skull, had become a pressure that begged for release. I laid on my side, curling my knees up against my chest so that I was in a tight ball. The soft pillow held my throbbing skull, while the mattress hugged my aching body.

“She’s had no training. She’s clearly dangerous,” a familiar voice hissed, seething with a foreign hatred. “She electrocuted Ryder!” The assault of the voice halted my breathing for a moment, my body tensing as I realized who was speaking.

Hunter.

“We can train her,” Mason told him softly. “We have time.” The gentle tone of Mason let the ache in my shoulders relax. His voice, I’ve noticed, was one I could fall asleep to. Calm and relaxing, Mason seemed to be the voice of reason between the brothers. The calming remedy they needed to keep the peace.

“I’m fine.” The deep growl of Ryder’s voice sent a jolt of electricity through me, alerting my senses and awakening my body. “I told you what’s going to happen, so shut. Up.” Once again, he took charge, and I’d bet a tooth and a nail, regardless of what gods they were the descendants of, he was the top dog between the three. “Both of her parents are dead, and she’s next in line. It’s how things work-- it’s how they’ve always worked.”

 I winced at the harshness of Ryder’s words. Remembering not too long ago his kindness, and how helpful he was. He was the rock that held me to the ground during my panic attack, and I wasn’t sure how I could repay him for that. He had told me more than my family ever did. 

 After his confession about Caligo and its expected arrival, Ryder excused himself to the next room. I waited for his return, but when he didn’t, I laid back down and drifted back to sleep. The only comfort I could find any solace in.

There was a moment of silence after Ryder spoke. Air that trickled from a vent somewhere in the room was the only source of sound for the few tense seconds that passed. Footsteps softly intruded on the stillness in the room, as they approached from out in a hall somewhere. They grew louder slowly, the soft slap of leather against the tile a clear indication of someone's approach, before they stopped altogether and a voice intruded on the thick tension in the room.

“Ryder is correct.” The man who spoke was obviously older than the rest of us, his voice sounded like textured wine. Old and wise. If I had to guess, I’d say early sixties. “Angelina isn’t much different from you three, but you must keep in mind that we’ve never known anything like her.”

There was an annoyed grumble from where they stood, then the ever annoying asshole chose to speak his peace. “She’s dangerous, and we’re running out of time. Caligo is coming, and we don’t even have her longsword, let alone the Amethyst.”

“Patience, Ventus. All will be as it should be.”

“Master Reginald,” Mason murmured. “What should we do?” 

I was turned away from them, but I felt all of their eyes latch on to my back, as if digging holes into my skin if it were possible. 

There was a small chuckle. “She’s awake, so I will tell you all at the same time.” Master Reginald's statement jolted me with surprise. I knew that the jig was up, and I was caught red handed. “Angelina?” He said my name with no anger or hostility-- even though I was totally listening in on their conversation --but rather with understanding, kindness, and patience. 

Something that Hunter seemed to sorely lack. 

A throat was cleared and I squeezed my eyes shut for a split second, wishing once again I could drown myself back in the comfort of sleep. I lifted the soft sheet from around my torso, and sat up to a sitting position. I kept my head down, avoiding everyone’s gaze. Especially Ryder’s. 

"Angelina," Master Reginald called, his voice warm and welcoming. 

My nose scrunched at his soft tone, hating the pity lining his tone, and acting as if I was so easily breakable. It bothered me, an odd discomfort I did not want to welcome, and I knew I really did not want to be here. Hell, I was pretty sure just abuot everyone in the room felt that way, too. They just didn’t voice it. The only one who agreed or openly acknowledged it, was Hunter. 

I wasn’t where I wanted to be, and I wanted to be at home. Instead here I was, and not with my father, celebrating my high school graduation with pizza, wings, and a stupid action movie with cheesy comedy scenes. I was angry, and hurt. Reginald, and the boys be damned; I had every right. 

Lifting my chin, I met Master Reginald’s eyes with my hard gaze. A flicker of sizzling energy spiked through me, and by the slight widening of Reginald's eyes, I knew he had seen something. Whatever it was, I welcomed it. “Yes?” My tone wasn’t harsh, but it didn’t exactly match the welcoming warmth he had just given me. It was difficult to mask the negative emotions that wanted to spill from every pore in my body, and impossible to close up every leak.

Reginald cusped his hands together. “How are you feeling?”

I gave him a blank stare, ignoring Hunter’s assessing stare and Mason’s pitying glances. “Fine.” It wasn’t a lie. 

I’m spewing complete bullshit, even to myself. How pathetic.

Reginald cleared his throat, then motioned to the room. “How are you adjusting?”

My gaze flickered to Ryder before I could stop them. “Considering I woke up to a stranger wiping me down with a cloth,” I paused, attempting to ignore the way Ryder’s winced at the distaste in my tone. “Not so great.” Hunter faked a cough, attempting to cover the roll of his eyes. Unlike him, I didn’t attempt to cover the roll of mine, and a sudden slit of darkness settled somewhere deep within me.

When Ryder had left me to get some rest, however long ago that was, my head wouldn’t let me sleep for what felt like hours. The past seventeen years of my life flashed through my mind like a movie, the memories shifting through one after the other. All the laughter, the normal human life, and all the little hints here and there, that I wasn’t normal and I was being lied to about it.

Freshman year of high school, during the homecoming football game, a boy I had thought was cute was sitting in front of me on the bleachers. Sarah, my friend at the time, kept nudging me to talk to him. I was a bundle of nerves, my emotions on overdrive. I hadn’t noticed it then, but now that I have felt what that power felt like beneath my fingertips, I don’t understand how I could have missed it. 

The sizzle of electricity cracked and sparked through my fingerprints, etching along the edge of my skin as my nerves raged on. I had been biting my life, debating if I could work up the guts to talk to that boy. After Sarah’s constant prodding, I finally built up the courage to talk to him once it was halftime, and he was standing to leave.

I had reached forward, Sarah practically bouncing on her toes as we stood, and brushed my fingers along his shoulder. What I expected was a little jump, maybe a little jolt of surprise. What I did not expect was the boy to scream in agony, to drop to his knees and clutch his body in the fetal position. And that only made it worse. 

I felt panic, and the alarm that caused only raised my emotions to roll over into a fit of chaos. The stadium lights burst, car alarms blared as the head and tail lights shattered. Everyone around me busted into an eruption of madness. Bodies were shoved, thrown down and trampled over as they scrambled toward the exit. 

The homecoming game was discontinued for the rest of that night, and while I had just stood there, feeling nothing but the fear buzzing beneath my skin, everyone the following week had come to the conclusion I never could. I was a freak of nature, and they were right to be scared of me. 

My father never found out about it.

I blinked back the memory, focusing on the men before me. Their wide eyes, all except for Reginald, took me by surprise. That was, until I heard that familiar sizzle and crackle of electricity. I glanced down, swallowing the lump in my throat as I took in what their focus was glued to. 

My hands were engulfed into balls of lightning and electricity, crackling along my wrists and sizzling against my skin as if it belonged there. The bright purple bolts tickled my palm as I unclenched my fists, the electricity raising the hair on my arms. I watched as they grew smaller as my breathing evened, settling back into its source. Me.

Someone cleared their throat; I raised my gaze to Reginald with a pointed brow. "May I speak with you a moment?" He asked tentatively. His voice hinted that he was attempting to be patient, to let me adjust, not that he was scared. What surprised me though, was that I wanted him to be scared of me

"It's not like I have a choice," I replied, knowing it was harsh. I couldn’t find it within myself to care. Although they seemed to be the ones that had saved my life, and given me a bed to sleep in overnight, I had not once thanked them. But did they really care? From what I heard from Hunter, and even Ryder, they were just following orders, or didn’t care much at all what happened to me. So why was I still here? A question, along with several others, I was determined to get answered. 

"Boys," Master Reginald murmured. "Please leave us."

And why the actual fuck did they called this man 'master'? 

Hunter muttered something under his breath, stomping away like a child, and I had the urge to sock him in his child-like balls. 

The other two left without a sound, and just before the door clicked shut, I could have sworn there was a gaze lingering a little too long on me, before stepping through that door. 

Once the click sounded, I opened my mouth and asked the first question that came to mind. "Who are you?"

To my surprise, there was no hesitation. However, there was nothing more surprising than the answer he gave me. "I’m your grandfather. Your mother’s father."

My body stilled; Ryder had definitely failed to mention that. "Come again?!" I blurted. My brain wanted to implode from all the things I was just now learning about my own life. I probably looked like an idiot, but there was no one to blame but my family. Except they were dead, so now who took the blame? The grandfather I never knew existed? Sure, why not.

The old man nodded as he stood still on the other side of the room. He reminded me of Professor Dumbledore, from Harry Potter, I noted as I studied his aging features. He wore a body length grey robe that skimmed the tile he stood on. Silver metal framed glasses hugged his pointed nose, his bright green eyes identifiable even from where I sat. His white beard reached the center of his chest in thin strands, curling at the ends. 

The wrinkles lining his hands and eyes stretched as he moved, gesturing for me to stand. "Please," he requested softly. "Come. I would like to discuss an important matter." Why wasn't I ever told about having a grandfather? 

“Where were you?” I blurted. Reginald halted, parted his mouth to speak, but I didn’t give him the chance to make up excuses. “Where were you, when she died-- no, when she was murdered?! Where were you when we had a funeral for her? Where were you when my father was being murdered right in front of my eyes?!” My voice rose with each question, my anger reaching new heights as a new wave of energy cracked through a hidden veil it seemed caged beneath. 

My vision blurred as I thought of my late parents, and then of the stranger before me. I thought I was all alone, and as I continued to think about it, I was. This man was no family of mine, and the term “grandfather”, was just an empty title that meant nothing to me. “Where were you then?” My voice softened, cracking at the end as emotion clogged my throat. I swallowed the lump lodged there, and blinked away the tears. This man would not see me cry; he did not deserve to see me cry.

Reginald did not move a muscle, only blinking when necessary. The air was thick and tense, one waiting for the other to start where I had left off, but I didn’t have the patience. 

I stood to my feet, taking my time to make my way across the room. I studied the man who claimed to be my grandfather intently, gazing into his eyes to find any sign of falsehood. I was three feet from him when I stopped, crossing my arms over my chest as ribbons of crackling energy wrapped around my skin. To say I was pissed would be an understatement. I was overwhelmingly livid, burning red hot like the fire I had seen glow within Ryder’s eyes however long ago. 

Reginald’s eyes reminded me of my mother’s. I don’t remember much from when she was alive, but I’d catch myself staring at old photographs from time to time. One of my favorite features was her eyes. Bright grey like the full moon, with wisps of purple like a garden of violets. 

My father used to tell me that my eyes changed color whenever my moods were heightened. Excitement, rage, sadness, happiness. He’d often joke around how he wondered what my teen years would bring, being a hormonal teenager and all. 

At school while I was younger, I never really made that many friends. Most kept away from me, my eyes would often freak everyone out, even my teachers. As I grew, so did my strength and athletic ability. Apparently benching my weight wasn’t considered ‘normal’ at such a young age. 

My parents were all I had, and now I had nothing, and no one but myself to trust.

I must have stared at the old man for a decent amount of time before either one of us budged from our stilled positions. Finally, I managed to choke through the rage and ask a question with at least some civility. “Why didn’t I know about you until now?”

Just another symptom of being a freak, I suppose.

Dad would always offer to homeschool me, but I turned him down each time he brought it up. I loved my dad, but I didn’t need another reason added to the growing “freak list”. The town strayed from me enough during those times enough already. Sometimes I wondered how I even made it through those years, though I remembered sports being a high level of distraction. Some of the facility, however, made it difficult when the rumors fell to their ears-- but they had no proof, and I was deemed innocent. After all, how could a fifteen year old child cause such chaos with a flick of her wrist? 

“To keep you ignorant of the world you really live in.” Reginald’s answer came as a surprise. I wasn’t expecting the response he gave me. I opened my mouth to reply, or ask about what Ryder had said, but I was quickly cut off.  “What all weird or strange things did you hear that night?” 

 I attempted to swallow down my anxiety, but it didn’t work. “Which night?” 

 Reginald raised a brow. “The night of your graduation.” I was surprised he didn’t say something along the lines of, ‘the night your dad was murdered and I did nothing about it’. It would have been a more accurate statement. 

 I feigned indifference as I settled my features into a mask of nothing. Truth was, I really didn’t want to remember anything about that night. I found myself wishing I could erase the memory entirely, then disappear completely, and maybe have a chance at being a normal teen. Yet I knew that was a life I could never have, not after all of the lies and deceit. Not after what I’ve learned, and what I’ve seen. However, whatever was going on here, I realized, was nothing I wanted to be a part of.

 Furrowing my brow, I pretended to think really hard. “I’m not sure, something about some radioactive metal…?” I drifted off, turning my statement into a question. That metal had been Polonium, and it had killed the only person in my life that I truly cared about, besides my mother. 

Blood relative or not, Reginald wasn’t my family, and I didn’t trust him. Those boys may have saved my life, but how did I know they wouldn’t stab me in the back when I wasn’t looking? I didn’t, and that was not something I was willing to risk, not after what I’ve witnessed. I refused to go down how my parents did, and that meant staying away from whatever this was. 

 Reginald’s eyes widened a touch, just enough for me to notice before they relaxed again. “I see,” he murmured. “What else?” His eyes were distant then, staring off into space with nothing but his thoughts to keep him company. 

 “Gods, mages, and Alexandrite seemed to all be important words, but I didn’t understand them.” It wasn’t a lie, up until Ryder had informed me prior, but now it was different, and it seems Ryder had kept our little conversation, all besides my panic attack, to himself. I wondered what exactly had he told them had caused it.

 Reginald nodded slowly, then cleared his throat, as if shaking the daze he was in away. “Angelina,” he started, his focus and full attention now resting upon me. “I’m going to tell you everything you want to know, but first, you have to make a choice.”

 I snorted inside of my head. I already had the information I felt that I needed. I may not want anything to do with Reginald and his boy band, but that didn’t mean I wasn’t willing to figure out who I was and get revenge for what he did to my father. That night had been the weakest point of my life, and I vowed to never let someone bring me to my knees again. 

“Okay,” I prodded. “What’s this choice I have to make?” I’ll play your game, old man, but you have to play mine first.

 Reginald gestured with his hand to the bed behind me, motioning for me to take a seat. “Please,” he said. “Sit.” My feet didn’t move from their position on the floor. Reginald let out a slow breath of air, and I was wondering if I was testing his level of patience. That feeling was mutual. “Okay,” he exhaled. “I’ll give you the short version.” I nodded, eagerly waiting. “You have two choices. You can either stay here with us, question everything there is to know about your entire family, and help us get revenge for your father. Or, you can leave.”

 “And go where?” The thought bubbled to the surface without intention, but it was a need-to-know answer regardless. I had nowhere to go if I left here, and that realization struck hard. I had no one, and as much as I didn’t want to admit it, Reginald was the only family I had. I hated being alone, yet I’ve been alone my entire life.

 “Wherever you want,” was his answer. My eyebrows raised, and doubt crept through me. 

Bullshit.

I bobbed my head, as if contemplating the options he gave me. But what he didn’t realize, was that my mind was already made up. Reginald might be the only family I had left, but previous questions bubbled back to the surface: where was he when my mom was murdered nine years ago? My birthdays? Christmas? The answer was not with our family, with me. One thing my father had taught me was to survive, and to trust no one I was suspicious of. If I was certain of one thing, it was that my survival instinct was kicking in and these people didn’t sit right with me. After all, it was these people-their kind- that got my parents killed. 

“Okay, I know what I want to do,” I told him honestly.

“Already?” Reginald’s eyes bulged. “You’ve made up your mind?” 

I nodded, not really understanding why that was so hard to grasp. How old was this man, really? I knew Dumbledore was old, but could Reginald really compare? Were we immortal or something? I halted the absurd questions and cleared my head. “Yes…”

Reginald composed himself, clearing his throat. “Okay, then what have you decided?”

My fingers twitched as my back grew heavy, as if this decision was really that big of a deal. It felt like it was, but my decision was made the second he uttered the word ‘grandfather’. I didn’t want anything to do with some secret society bullshit. Let alone with someone who shows up out of nowhere, claims to be your grandparent, then refuses to answer your questions without something in return.

Fuck. That. 

Raising my chin, I managed to tell Reginald to fuck off in the nicest way possible. “I’m going home.”