Chapter - Twenty

When Felix left to have a shower and change his clothes, I snuck out to search the library just one more time. I slipped inside, my sneakers making no noise on the marble floor. I felt electric and powerful as I tucked myself in close to the shelving, trying to find the secret Hall of Accords. It has to be close, I thought. A strange prickle started at the nape of my neck the more I moved around the library.

Volker had told me the library would call to me. A sharp pain pierced my chest as I neared a bookshelf beside the statue of the founding council members. My hands fumbled with the spines of the books and I pulled out hundreds off the shelves as I tried to find some sort of key or opening mechanism, but nothing happened.

‘Stupid,' I muttered out loud. ‘Where is it?'

I tugged on an insignificant-looking novel about lycanthrope poets. There was a hiss of air escaping and the groan of a door opening, and a small gap appeared between two shelves. Light glistened from inside and I pushed on the shelving, which swung back and revealed what I'd been looking for. I slid through the opening.

The ancient hall was filled with a brilliant gold light. Its walls were made of exposed brick, and wooden beams ran across the ceiling where skylights displayed the midnight-ink sky, stars glittering from above. A cage contained a large raven with yellow eyes that followed my every move and a wooden desk, stacked high with books and papers, was pushed up against a bookshelf.

A staircase led me to a smaller upstairs area with a selection of seating and more bookshelves. I trailed my fingertips along the edges of the book spines nearby, finding them all in alphabetical order and intricately designed. The prickling feeling at the back of my neck told me this was the section I needed to read. Starting with the letter ‘A' section, I removed the first book and sank down into a chair. The book was a grimoire of spells for ancient beasts which I was quick to return to the shelf as the room felt colder when I read out loud from it.

The hours passed in a blur as I read my way through the sections, trying to find anything that related to youngbloods. By the time I reached the ‘H' section, I decided to skip ahead to ‘S', wondering if anything would come up under my surname. I flicked through most of these books but nothing about my name was contained in any of the literature.

I was so absorbed in my task that I didn't notice the sun had risen. It was only when it shone through the skylight, drenching the wooden floors in yellow that I realised how long I had been in the hall.

Sighing, I turned to another wall of shelves that was labelled ‘Warlock Journals' and my interest peaked. I remembered Felix telling me that journals were kept by warlocks to record spells but some contained stories and adventures beyond the wildest of imaginations. There were journals of all colours and sizes perched on the shelving, their spines glistening like teardrops. I guessed it was all part of the magic. My hands drifted over their bindings, hoping I would sense something. But where to even begin?

I wondered if Volker had written down the occasion of my glamouring. Raking through them all, I found a journal with his name printed on the spine. It was the same colour as his hair and twice as thick as any of the others surrounding it.

Shakily, I flipped through the years scribbled down in each entry, until I found the year I was born: 2000. Volker's handwriting was neat and elegant, and his entries were mildly interesting. In January, he'd attended a hog-squealing contest and in March he saw a live action remake of Grease. Everything was rather ordinary until I flipped over to June and spied my name etched into the paper. I zeroed in on the section a few days after my birth date and noticed something odd. On June 6th, Volker had written:

Today was not grand. First, my tea had been made with too much milk. Who thinks English tea requires that much dairy? Scoundrels, that's who. Secondly, I tried a fire spell and created a blaze too high to control, and burnt down the living room curtains. Not even slightly fantastical. I should have thought more realistically about doing magic in the least spacious living quarters. My guess is I was still upset about the tea. And thirdly, on this rather awful day, a pair of youngblood parents visited me with their newborn, named Tabitha. The parents had an incredibly peculiar request; one not lightly asked for.

They'd had their child for five days, but they needed to be rid of her. Said something about them having a stroke of bad luck and neither could keep her safe. Of course, being my charming self, I did try to squeeze more out of them, but neither parents were interested in sharing any further details. Youngbloods keep to themselves and fae guardians are always so secretive. Part of the job description, I suppose.

What the hell is a Fae Guardian? I wondered as I read on, wondering what other secrets were concealed in Volker's journal.

They asked me to glamour their child. I asked how tight the glamour should be. Tabitha's mother said she needed to be unrecognisable to an inhuman eye. Nobody could know she was not of human blood. They paid handsomely with gold and diamonds, so who was I to say no? And I turned that newborn's blood crimson, hid her pretty eyes, and smoothed out her features. The parents were very peculiar about the facial reconstruction and wanted the baby's face to look like a photograph they showed me; some mortal they'd chosen to bring up their baby. When I enquired who the human was, they simply poured more diamonds from their pockets. So I burned my seal into her chubby little baby leg and Tabitha cried so loud my windows shook.

What struck me most was the awful look in their eyes – desperate to keep their baby but knowing they couldn't.

I tried to find out where they were going and what would become of the infant, but the father paid me extra to keep quiet. I helped them portal to Lady Koren Hospital in exchange for a sapphire the size of my fist. And I was sworn to secrecy about their visit to my house. But I just can't help jot things down in here, can I? It'll be our little secret, dear diary. Just like my secret desire to visit the little one, Tabitha, later on. Just to see what becomes of the child – the youngblood whose gold blood is as impure as her mother's heart is black and her father's eyes are vengeful.

What a world to be brought into.

I looked up from the journal, my eyes glossy with unshed tears. Volker had remembered my parents. He had remembered their visit and my glamouring. Was there more? Did he find out what happened to them? I scrambled through the book, finding another entry a few years afterwards. On September 24th, 2010, Volker had made another entry:

I just cannot help myself can I? Really Volker, you must get a grip. See! Talking to myself! A wonder I have any social skills left. Anyway, I checked on that infant, Tabitha. It has been many moons since I last saw the glamoured youngblood with the unusual mark around her finger and my seal on her leg. She's now ten years old and she's wonderful. Her features have matured and she looks like a real human these days. I almost forgot about her true origins when I saw her skin a knee and crimson welled from the wound.

Well, she's a gem. What a pretty child she is. Flourishes in the mortal world like she was born into it. Her mother is the woman from the photograph Tabitha's real parents had shown me. I recognise her easily, especially as I was the one who altered Tabitha's face to resemble hers. The human is kind and she gives Tabitha a home, a bed, food and love. I wonder whether she thinks Tabitha is hers. Had the Fae Guardian tricked the mortal into thinking she was with child?

Speaking of Tabitha's birth mother, I've seen her, just once, outside a bar in Switzerland a couple of years ago. She had hair white like snow and wore powerful red lipstick. Almost like she was in a renaissance painting. I remember her so vividly. I wonder if she thinks about her child.

As for that scoundrel of a father, I've never even heard his name whispered in the bars I searched.. He seemingly disappeared off our world's radar since the birth of his infant. Nobody even knew who he was when I asked, even the people I'd researched and found out had known him well. What a weird world.

I leaned back into the bookshelf behind me, a bit wobbly in the knees. There was more. My hands were barely my own as I flicked to another entry, seven years later:

Tabitha exceeds in school. She does well in her studies and flourishes beneath the pressures of her final exams. I saw her hunched over in the library mere days ago, looking flustered as she studied biology. No whingeing or crying like the other students, she just put her head down and focused. And today she stood on that stage and earned her high school diploma, a testament to her hard work. The young woman she has become owned the stage with so much fierceness that I thought she'd find her magic right there and then. I waited for the fire to burst from her fingertips. But she was so happy, so fulfilled, the tears leaking from her eyes in a display of love.

I spoke briefly with her teachers. (They were very complimentary of my cherry red robes.) They all said what I had always thought. Tabitha is a leader. But I wonder if a life of leading is what's best for her. Perhaps she needs a push to find her parents and learn who she really is. To seek what I cannot find out for her.

I fear I have left it too long to introduce her to this world. Her mother and father have not been seen in years, although I hear of her mother occasionally. But none of that today, journal, today is a celebration of the life Tabitha has led so far. The life she had always deserved.

She is happy. And she is kind. Darkness does not follow her. I hope it never does. Although she may be older, she is still the child I remember. The child I sought to protect. I wonder what will become of her. What the world will give her.

I flipped through the remainder of the pages as tears dripped down my face. I scoured the pages for my name. Finally, the journal was almost at an end; just one page remained. There, I saw my name. It was a recent entry; only written a few months ago and it absolutely broke me.

I saw her mother again, journal. And I know of her. She watched Tabitha, hidden in a glamour so fierce, even I had trouble spotting her. We made eye contact and she dared to nod, but I did not approach nor reciprocate the gesture. Neither of us asked why we were both watching Tabitha. Her father wasn't there. I suspect he is long gone to somewhere else.

She watched Tabitha for a whole hour as she drank hard liquor in an underground bar with a gaggle of hilarious mortals. But why not approach her daughter? Why stay away? I never did learn why they chose to send their daughter away from them. But I think I understand it now. Looking at the mother, I don't think she was ready to have a child; not ready to stop the fight and succumb to her maternal duties. And she knew she would put that baby through hell if she raised Tabitha herself.

But hear this, journal, she loves that child. It takes great strength to give up a baby you want more than the sun, sky, moon and stars put together. So I understand why she did it. I understand her pain. She can never fix the wound she will inflict when Tabitha finds out who her parents are. I'm not sure I'm even ready to speak of them to you, journal, and you are just a collection of my own thoughts.

So I vow, if ever the situation comes up, I will lie. If I ever meet Tabitha in any other context, I won't tell her. I know eventually the glamour will kill her, unless it is removed. But she can't know. If she knew who they truly were – what they were – she would hate herself. So, I keep her hidden from them now. Her mother called me to ask about Tabitha's whereabouts but I dared not answer. She made her choice, as I made mine, and I live with the hell every day.

So there you have it. One day can change everything. A terrible tea, hurricane fire in the living room, and glamouring an infant all makes for a lifetime of lying.

I threw the journal away, letting it fly from my hands in sheer agony. My heart was aching inside my chest. How could he keep this from me? He knew my parents. He'd checked on me my whole life. He'd lied about everything since the moment we met. Pretending not to know me, acting as if he was unaware of who my parents were, what they were. Everything hurt like I was being de-glamoured all over again, my skin prickling as though it was beneath a flame and I snapped.

I scrambled to my feet, collected the journal and ran all the way to my bedroom, knowing Volker would be waiting for me after our talk yesterday. I almost broke the doorknob as I slammed into the room. Volker was sitting in the living room, cup of tea in hand as usual, as I stalked inside, eyes ablaze.

‘Good morning little one,' he said, sounding chirpy. ‘Good to see you.'

‘Volker,' I yelled. ‘You are a liar.'

He stopped in his tracks at the sight of me, eyes wide with shock. I rolled my neck, narrowed my eyes at him and bellowed out a cry to the ancients. Tears blurred my vision as I spat out the chant. Volker's teacup clattered to the floor as he swallowed with fear and raised his hands.

I seethed rage, feeling fire spurt from my fingertips. Volker took a hesitant step backwards, trying to calm me, but it didn't work. The darkness bled into the room through the call to the ancients and he shivered when the lights flickered.

‘How could you?' I said, snarling.

‘Tabitha—'

‘How could you!'

He fumbled, searching for words. ‘I don't know what you're—'

‘You liar!' I screeched, distantly hearing Felix call my name from somewhere outside the door. But I was much too mad to listen. ‘You lied! The whole time! About everything!'

‘What?'

‘I trusted you!' came my shrill answer, cutting him off once more. ‘I let you in. Do you know what that meant? To trust you? I feel stupid.'

‘Tabitha—'

‘You hid me!' I cried at him, pointing an accusatory finger at him. Volker's eyes widened as my voice broke. ‘You knew my parents! And you kept them from me and kept me from knowing them for two whole decades! How could you?'

‘I had to,' he snapped back quickly. ‘Please, let me explain.'

‘You're just going to make something else up, feed me another lie! No way in hell am I listening to you.'

The lights flickered again. His face was ghostly pale, eyes shifting from me to his surroundings. Faintly I heard Felix calling my name a second time, the doorknob rattling. I ignored it.

‘I need you to listen, Tabitha. You're calling on something dark, something dead, something not of this world.'

‘I hate you,' I answered, ignoring his words.

‘Stop believing in the darkness and thinking it is good for you!' he cried. ‘What do you want from me? Yes, alright, yes. I hid you. I hid you for nineteen years and I did a damn good job of keeping your parents from you. But don't you dare tell me I was doing the wrong thing for you. It has always been about you, Tabitha, and I did what I had to so you were protected.'

‘Where are they?' I cried.

‘Who cares!' he threw back at me. ‘Your mother wasn't ready to be a parent and your father was much too spineless to try. Neither of them are the heroes you wish them to be, and there are no happy endings with either of them. All they would ever do is bring you misery!'

‘Why couldn't you just tell me this? Why did you have to lie to me?' I said more quietly, feeling the ancient drum beat in the room still.

‘Because you were not ready for the truth,' he said. ‘And I need you to stop calling on a spirit far darker than you can control. Do not listen to it Tabitha. Do not let it in.'

The panic wound round my throat like a snake.‘Stop trying to distract me.'

‘I'm not. You're losing control. Regain it. You are strong enough to make the right decision.'

‘But you kept me from them.'

‘And I will never be sorry for my actions, nor the decisions I have made from then on.' His voice was like thunder now. ‘What do you want of them? A family? You have that. There are so many people who love you. Who would do anything for you. But you want the pathetic bloodline that abandoned you like a weak calf and left you to be raised by someone else. They didn't do anything to help you. I did! I got you into the best schools, I made sure you always had enough to eat and a bed to sleep in. Me! I made sure you were loved. You think if they had raised you in their dark and twisted world, you'd have the life you have now?

‘I'd know who I am!' I screeched. ‘I'd have been the youngblood I was born to be!'

‘You were never supposed to be anything but Tabitha,' he said, looking forlorn.

‘I wanted to be more, you could have let me be more,' I snapped back.

‘Tabitha …'

‘I hate you.'

‘I know.'

‘Tell me,' I said, almost choking as I spoke. ‘Tell me why you did it.'

‘I can't.'

‘Volker, I will—'

‘You will do nothing to harm anyone, including yourself.'

He raised his voice to the same level as mine. His shiny hair looked ready to ignite. But then he did something strange. Something unexpected. He softened his stance, breathing hard when he met my watery gaze.

‘I will tell you everything I know. Every single detail of my knowledge and my research. But only if you stop calling on the ancient demons from other worlds and kill us all.'

I felt my anger dissipate. I nodded, agreeing to his terms. Volker relaxed. It was very quiet until Felix spoke from behind us both.

‘So, anyone for tea?'