“He did college online, I think. As for his major, I’m not sure. Why don’t you ask him? We could have him over sometime.”

“Absolutely.” Dad sets a mug of hot chocolate in front of me. “Talk to your mother about it. She knows which nights are free.”

“Speaking of which, I’ll be going to his party tomorrow night.”

Dad raises his eyebrows. “Another one?”

“He has them every weekend.”

“Hmm.” He blows on the steaming surface of the liquid. “Sounds like he’s turned into a party hound.”

I choke on my sip of hot chocolate. “What the hell is a party hound?”

“Someone who parties a lot? Chases parties? Has a nose for parties?” Dad smiles placidly. “A buddy of mine used to make a drink he called the Party Hound, but I think the correct name is the Racing Greyhound. I believe it is also a drink composed of Red Bull, grapefruit juice, and vodka.”

I fake a gagging sound. “That sounds like literally the worst drink ever.”

“You’re not wrong.” He chuckles, but then his eyes turn sober. “Does Jay drink a lot at these parties?”

“No. Not at all.”

“Good. I’m glad that hasn’t changed. Addiction can have a genetic element, and I’d hate to see him slip into the same bad habits his parents had. Letting any substance control your life is a recipe for disaster.”

His words trigger a twist of guilt and worry inside me. What would Dad think about what I can do? The way I can control Jay and others? He always expressed such disgust over Gran’s “powers.” I could tell he despised the people who would allow themselves to be manipulated that way, whether in reality or pretense.

“Dad.” I wrap my fingers around my mug, drawing courage from its warmth. “Remember the stories you used to tell about Gran?”

“Yep. I’m the one who told them, so…”

“Was there anything else?”

Am I imagining the tension of his shoulders? He clears his throat. “Anything else?”

“Yeah, anything…” God, why is this so hard to say? Why does it sound so ridiculous when I verbalize it?

“Was there something different about her? Something that made her especially good at what she did? You know, the hypnotism stuff?”

“Don’t tell me you believe in that crap now.” His voice is tighter, almost annoyed.

“Okay, I’m just going to come out and say it. Could she control people with her voice? And could that kind of skill be passed on to a relative?”

The panicked dart of his eyes to my face reveals volumes. Everything freezes inside me, and for a second, he and I just look at each other. He has assumed his usual placid expression, but it’s too late, and he knows it.

“There was something supernatural involved, wasn’t there?” I say quietly.

“Daisy.” He shakes his head. “Let’s not go there.”

“Too late. You already gave it away. And now you have to tell me everything.”

“Nope, I don’t, because I’m the dad. Good night.”

“Dad, please.” Desperation slips through my tone, and he turns back to me, frowning.

“Why are you asking about this, Daisy?”

“Because…I’ve been noticing some things about myself.”

“That’s not possible.”

“Why not?”

“I just… I was told… Ah, screw it.” He massages his forehead with his fingertips, then returns to the island, seating himself on a bar stool. “The gift gets weaker with each generation. You shouldn’t be able to notice anything.”

The gift.

So he’s admitting it, acknowledging that this thing is real. I knew it was real, but hearing my dad speak those words aloud—it shifts everything, changes my perspective of him, like a colored lens snapping into place.

“I didn’t realize it for a long time,” I say slowly. “When I use a certain tone, people pay attention, and sometimes they’re more easily persuaded, but it’s barely noticeable. And then with other people, the effect is really dramatic and obvious. They’re completely under my control.”

“How completely?”

“Like, I can make them do whatever I want. They stay under my sway or whatever until I change my tone, and that snaps them out of it.” What I can’t tell him is that the people most vulnerable to my sway are actually vampires, with ultra-sensitive hearing that renders them powerless to my voice. That’s not my secret to share, not yet. Besides, a vindictive part of me is pissed Dad kept this from me and doesn’t mind keeping something from him in return.

“I don’t believe it,” Dad murmurs. “They said as long as I married a human, like your grandmother did, the gift would die out within a couple generations. That’s why I didn’t tell you about it. I didn’t think we’d have to worry.”

It’s the bombshell I’ve been psyching myself up for since I did the mythology research with Nick. I’ve seen this moment in dozens of movies—the moment when a person discovers they are something beyond human, or other than human. I’ve played it out in my head a few times, ever since I compelled Cody. But none of that was enough preparation for the cataclysmic earthquake of my father’s answer and the giant ravine he cleaved through my worldview in just seven words.

As long as I married a human…

I try my best to speak calmly, evenly. To not freak out. I handled Jay being a vampire; I can handle this. “Married a human? So we’re not human then? What the hell are we?”

“Breathe, Daisy.” He releases a long, slow sigh, taking his own advice, and maybe giving himself extra seconds to form a response. “You’re mostly human, all right? So don’t worry about that. But we’re more than human, I guess. That’s the best way I know how to say it. On my side of the family, we’re descended from an ancient bloodline—the result of intermarriage between two mythical races from Irish lore—the merrows and the leannán sídhe.”

“The who what now?”

He sighs. “It sounds dumb, I know. In Celtic myth, the merrows were the sirens of the sea.”

“So I’m descended from mermaids. Am I going to sprout a tail?”

“No, nothing like that. The ability to shift into aquatic form has long since been lost.”

“Is that because the merrows slept with the—the leaning shee?”

“Leannán sídhe,” he corrects. “And yeah, that’s why. Many generations ago, a group of merrows and leannán sídhe lived in the same coastal town for a while, and there was some intermarriage. The mixing of the lines caused interesting effects in the offspring. Both merrows and leannán sídhe have a vocal element to their magic, so their children and grandchildren ended up with hybrid abilities that enabled them to influence humans with their words. Those descendants have all but died out now, and the gift decreases in potency with each generation.”

“So you have it, too. Have you used it on Mom? On me?” With fresh, painful clarity I realize what an invasive power it is. How could Jay react so graciously to it? He must have felt violated when I used it on him, even with his permission.

“I have never used it on you or your mother,” Dad says. “Not that I haven’t been tempted. But I swore I’d never use it to influence anyone, and I’ve stuck by that vow—except…except once, almost nine years ago.”