by Brea Viragh
She set Callie down on the kitchen floor and rose slowly. Brock caught the flash of pain that crossed her face and was gone in seconds. “I’ll leave you to it. I’m sure you have a lot to unpack. Don’t let me stop you. There’s dinner for you in the fridge. Set the oven to three-hundred-fifty degrees and leave it in for thirty minutes. I just wanted to be here when you got it. It’s better to come home to a house with lights on.”
“You could stay for a while if you like.” Even with everything he still needed to do, bags to bring inside and electric companies to call, cable to set up, he didn’t want her to leave. It had been so long since he’d seen a friendly face. Now he wanted it there. Always. A captive audience.
And maybe a bit of back up if he got bogged down.
“I won’t stand in your way. This is your house now. I downsized, remember?” The thought gave her a chuckle. “But if you ever need a babysitter, you let me know. These old bones have a few more rounds in them.”
Brock eyed the once more captivated toddler as she followed the bright shapes on a television screen set up on the counter. “I’m not sure I would want to put you through that.”
“It would be my pleasure. There are things you need to do without a baby on your hip. Mr. Mom.”
“Mr. Mom.” Brock nodded in agreement. Exactly right.
Odessa said her goodbyes and he bent to the press of whispery lips on his cheek. Watching her toddle down the steps, carefully navigating each one, Brock knew he was exactly where he needed to be.
CHAPTER 2
Nasira watched the clouds roll in, white and gray and undulating with energy. They blew gently over the hills and reflected on the landscape. The air held the promises of spring, the sweet scents drenched in dappled sunlight. Trees would soon begin to bloom in the season of birth and renewal. Old, dead things gave way to new life. Flowers shook off their stasis to show off in dazzling displays. Narcissus and tulips. Hyacinth and iris. Crocus and lily.
Tree limbs swayed gently in a soft, cool breeze.
She let the wind caress her face even as it stung her skin. This was the hour, she knew. The hour to be grateful for what she had. Through the stress breaking her body each day at a job she loved, she saw the beauty, and fought to hold onto the sensation of awakening.
But damn was it hard.
At least she loved where she lived, surrounded by mountains and trees. Madison was a small town where everyone knew each other and always seemed ready to lend a helping hand. It was better, she knew, to be away from the hustle and bustle of larger cities, where there were too many tourists. Crowds thick and existing with a heartbeat of their own.
Her mother’s family lived on the east coast outside of Boston. Visiting several times throughout her life had her appreciating her quaint country life even more. She felt like she could breathe here. She caught sight of the trees, the textures of the hills and the hues of the sun and knew there was no place else in the world she would rather be.
And lord knew her mother never objected to her decision to stay close. If anything, she was overjoyed. Neret Khepri raised her only child to know her own mind and in this instance, there was not a peep to the contrary.
Nasira prided herself on her ability to order her life. To know what she wanted and to go after it with the tenacity of a bull with a waving red cloth. She had it laid out on paper in neat typeface, detailing how she wanted her future to unroll. Goals and dreams were not nebulous concepts she hoped to accomplish one day. They were fact. They were checks on her list after she accomplished each thing she set out to do.
Yes, she was still single, but she knew from experience she didn’t need a man to make her life complete. On the verge of turning twenty-five, she paved her own way and accomplished her goals on her own terms. Lived her own life. Her skill set learned from her single parent mother since conception.
She glanced down at the rabbit huddled in her lap, nuzzling lightly against her palm.
Those were things Nasira understood. Things she brought to the table once she opened her own veterinary clinic.
She pushed her curling hair into a messy bun at the top of her head and tied it tight. Too often it went in her eyes, in her mouth, swallowed and choked back up before she realized what was happening.
She’d needed this quiet time, she realized. To return to homeostasis, where her body felt the best. Where her mind stilled. There had been too many strange things happening lately. Animals coming in with anomalous conditions. People acting sane one moment and flying off the handle the next.
When her mother extended the invitation for lunch, saying there were things the two of them had to discuss, Nasira was leery and prepared for the worst. It was just a feeling, oddly enough, a curling sensation in her stomach like she expected to get slapped at any moment.
This was a time for strange things, her intuition told her.
A sharp zing cut through her senses and she glanced down. The rabbit had bitten her! The pain registered after the shock, her eyes widening.
“Ouch,” she said, more out of habit than genuine hurt. “Jack.” Jack Rabbit, the cute nickname she’d given him when she’d first found him as an orphaned baby. “What are you doing?”
The bunny, one she’d held and coddled hundreds of times over the past year, hopped off her lap and darted across the lawn with wide eyes, disappearing into a field of waving grasses bending in the breeze. Like he couldn’t get away from her fast enough. Sure, he was wild. She understood the risks. But his behavior was out of the ordinary.
Yes, definitely a time for strange things.
Neret leaned against the screen door with one eyebrow quirked, her lean, dusky frame wrapped in a dress the color of summer squash. “Naz, you better get in here before I have to tell you a second time. Or do you think this lunch is going to stay warm on its own?”
“I know, I’m coming.”
Nasira shot her mother a warm smile before pushing past her into the kitchen. Trying to forget her throbbing finger. “You sure know how to ruin a daydream. A person is allowed to relax on their day off. I’d say I more than earned it.”
“Not when their mother goes to the trouble of cooking.”
Neret managed to keep the old-school charm of their retro style kitchen even after a renovation. She’d been smart with her money, shopping second hand, thrift stores, and yard sales for the essentials. The tiles had been purchased as surplus from a man in the back of a truck. While Nasira did not agree with the ways her mother had cut costs, she had to admit: the kitchen had turned out like a dream.
“You should thank me.” Neret moved to the slightly blue-cast stove and took a pan off the burner. “I cooked a nice meal—”
“So you could butter me up. Don’t think I’m unaware of your tactics, Mom. Whatever you have to tell me must be pretty bad.”
“Okay, I didn’t call you over for pleasantries. Or killing daydreams.”
“Yes, you were suitably vague on the phone.” Nasira walked to the sink and lathered her hands, scrubbing thoroughly for a full fifteen seconds. The bite stung. “Have you finally decided you’re going to turn my room into a gym and you’re working up the courage to admit it? I know I was against the idea at first, but now it has merit. It would save on membership fees.”
Neret put her hands on her hips. “Why would you say that?”
“No reason in particular. You’re always complaining about how you have to jog four miles a day in foul weather and I figure it would do you good to have a place at home you can work out. Although why you find it necessary to jog is beyond me.”
Nasira took in her mother’s long athletic frame, kept slender by a combination of daily activity and healthy eating habits. Though she pushed forty-two, one would never know by the way she carried herself, or the picture she presented. Neret could have been her twin.
“This is not about a home gym,” Neret said firmly. “Sit and eat. You’ll want to have a full stomach for what I have to tell you.”
If she d
idn’t know any better, she’d say her mother was nervous. Neret kept touching her face. Rolling locks of hair between her fingers.
“Jeez, you make it sound so bad.” Nasira did what she was told. She pulled a chair out from beneath the table and careful not to let it scratch.
Neret doled out slices of chicken sausage atop a bed of freshly sautéed spinach. “It’s not bad, but it’s something I want to prepare you for. Thus, the need for food. It greases the wheels.” She set the plate down and chose a seat at the opposite end of the table. “Do you want the bad stuff first? Or the really bad stuff?”
Nasira took a bite of sausage and allowed herself a moment to let the flavors burst in her mouth. There was nothing in the world as good as her mother’s cooking. She swallowed. “I guess I’ll go with the bad, although you aren’t leaving me much choice.” Her eyes widened. “Is this about grandpa? Is he okay? Are you about to drop a bad news bomb?”
Neret sighed. “Your grandfather is fine. That’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”
“Spit it out! You’re making me nervous.” Nasira gestured in the air with her spoon. “I’m not going to be able to enjoy this if you keep stringing me along much further.”
“If you would stop interrupting then I would be able to get a word in edgewise. Brock Lockhart is back in town”
That last bite of food had been a bad idea. It lodged in her throat, threatening to cut off her air supply. Nasira hacked and cough until the food popped loose and landed on the table in a half-chewed mass.
“What?” she croaked. “Come again?”
“Brock. He’s in town for good this time. He moved from Los Angeles, from what I heard.”
Her mother didn’t have to look so happy about it.
Nasira reached for her water and downed the glass in a single breath. She gulped, wiping her mouth with her sleeve. “How…how did you hear this? When?” And why didn’t you tell me immediately?
“From Esmerelda at the bank. She was full of nice things to say. The first of which was how good he looks. He came in to open up an account a couple of days ago. She says he’s grown into quite a handsome young man.” Neret watched her daughter with a secret smile.
“I’m sure I don’t care.” Nasira had lost her appetite and eyed the rest of her meal with disdain. “Brock Lockard does not concern me.”
“I thought it would be better for you to hear it coming from me.”
“Ugh, I hate that you feel you have to tell me. Where is he living, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“His grandmother’s old house over on Broadleaf Lane. She moved into an assisted living facility a few years ago, and the house has been empty.”
Nasira crossed her arms over her chest. Shook her head. “What a typical smarmy jerk.” It took her a moment longer to answer. “I don’t care about him.”
Neret reached across the table and let her hands open, palms up. “I know you don’t. It’s me trying to make conversation with you before having to tell you the really bad stuff. I’m working up to it.”
“If that was the bad news then I hate to hear what you saved for the rest.” Nasira pushed away from the chair, her appetite disintegrating by the second. She leaned against the counter and stared at the cloudless sky. The hints of spring visible in the buds of nearby dogwood trees. Suddenly she didn’t feel carefree. She didn’t feel grateful. She felt out of control.
Brock Lockhart was back in town, and it seemed her mother enjoyed every inch of her discomfort. He was the one man who’d managed to capture Nasira’s heart with the passion of a teenager, the sweetness of a first love. And then break it in two the moment he left.
“Well, it’s more of a serious matter,” Neret began.
“You better tell me now while I’m only on the edge of palpitations.” Nasira leaned against the counter. “But I warn you, this could send me into a full-blown spasm. Have the adrenaline ready in case you need to slam a needle into my heart. I can’t take much more of this.”
“More of what?” Neret blinked innocently. “This is a friendly conversation between two adult women. So what if it happens to involve your ex-boyfriend’s return to town and the degradation of magic as we know it?”
Nasira sputtered. “Wait, what? What the hell are you talking about?”
“The goddess spoke to me.”
“Of course she did. Of course.” Nasira let her hands fly in the air.
Of the women in their line, Neret had the closest connection to Bast, the Egyptian goddess most of the Khepri line still prayed to. Once, they’d been her priests and priestesses. Now her mother heard voices.
Nasira had never once heard the goddess speak. Or felt her presence. She maintained her light magic and considered it the best she was capable of doing.
Neret turned in her chair and kept her eyes locked on her daughter. “She said it was time to tell you about your father.”
“My father?” If Nasira hadn’t been leaning against the counter she would have dropped to the floor.
Her father was the one great mystery of her life. The first and only item on her check list she hadn’t been able to cross off. Most young girls grew up with at least a vague idea of their dad, the story of how their parents met, or a photograph to carry with them.
She had none of those. The subject had been the one thing her mom kept mum about. There were no mementos in the house, no copy of Nasira’s birth certificate with a name. Or none Neret would let her see, in any case.
The man was a ghost.
Nasira stared at the floor until her eyes dried. “Any, I don’t know, particular reason he has to come into the picture now? When you’ve hidden his identity from me for the last twenty-five years!” she burst out.
Neret didn’t back down from the scrutiny. She hardly reacted at all. “I didn’t think it was necessary.”
“You didn’t think it was necessary for me to know who my father is? The excuse is really getting old, Mom. But I suppose it’s okay, because Bast told you it’s time.”
“Nasira, watch your tone,” Neret cautioned. “I don’t make the rules. It is the whim of the universe.”
“Don’t blame the universe for you not telling me about my parentage. What a cop out.” Nasira found it hard to believe. Her lunch turned sour in her stomach as she thought about the bombshell her mother prepared to drop.
Hadn’t she had enough surprises for one day?
“I’m not blaming the universe for anything! My god, you are an infuriating child.” Neret grimaced, her face dropping as though she’d sucked on a lemon. “I forgot how stubborn you can be when things don’t go your way.”
“Well, I’m sorry. I don’t know what you want me to say.”
“Try thank you?”
“I’ve begged you enough.”
“It’s time for you to take your place. Accept your birthright.”
Nasira moaned, cleared her throat, and blinked her eyes. “I know who I am. I know my birthright. I see it every day when I go to the office and do my job. Nothing you say will change that.” She pulled her vision from the floor and turned to look at the person who raised her. The woman who was there every day to keep her on the right path. And wondered why she suddenly looked like a stranger.
Neret rose with a sigh and crossed the room. “Sweetie, I know you’re upset.” She wrapped her arms around taught shoulders. “I’m sorry. Please take a second to breathe and let me tell you something I’ve been keeping for a long time. Too long.”
“It’s overdue.” Nasira pouted and despite her best efforts, leaned into the contact.
Her mother. Her best friend. The one person in the world with the knowledge she desired. No matter how many times she’d poked, prodded, and begged, she had never been able to get a real answer on the subject. Neret’s mouth was always locked up tighter than a miser’s purse.
“Yes, it is,” Neret agreed. “Sit and we can try to talk like adults. I made a pecan pie for dessert. Come on.”
She wished she could
push the pity pie away and tell her mother she was leaving. “I guess I can manage a piece or two,” came out instead.
Neret smiled and doled out two identical slices of the homemade delight. “Yes, the goddess told me it was time. Which only assured me that the decision I had been considering on my own was correct. This is something I’ve wanted to do.”
Nasira spoke through her food. “You were going to tell me anyway?”
“I think you’re old enough.”
“I think I’m past the point of being old enough.”
The two stared at each other without speaking and Nasira felt a weight settle on her shoulders. She thought about the consequences of a name. A single name and a wealth of possibilities.
“How do we do this?” she asked. “It seems like a momentous occasion. Like maybe we should celebrate with balloons and a giant banner?”
Neret sighed and held out her hands until Nasira crossed the distance, linked their fingers together. She’d been preparing for this moment for years, knowing it would eventually come. Wishing she could hold out longer and enjoy her time alone with Nasira. Better to think about their life together than brood over her own shame for past actions. No, no shame. No regret, either. Only memories.
But Nasira deserved to know. Her beautiful and loving daughter who had never been anything but a joy. If she could, she would spare her any hurt. Any pain over knowing the circumstances of her birth and what happened years ago. She wished there was a way to come back from it whole.
“Your father,” Neret began, her face heavy with memories, “was a force to be reckoned with. A bear of a man with a strong bearing and impossible-to-match charisma.”
Nasira couldn’t help her smile “Yeah? That sounds nice.”
“I left Boston to travel, because I was determined to explore what the rest of the United States had to offer.” Neret settled into her story, dark cat eyes glazing over. “I was seventeen at the time and ready to make my own way. I went to Chicago on a whim and connected with a few magic users in the area I already knew. I was free for the first time in my life. Then I met him.”
