“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.”
“When you got the new job,” I say softly. “Oh my gosh.”
“You can’t tell your mother. Please.” He leans toward me, anguish in his eyes. “We were in debt, Daisy, and you were about to enter high school. I wanted to give you everything you needed, so you could have a good high school experience. And I wanted to be able to pay for your college, wherever you decided to go. I had the best intentions. I only used a little bit of my ability—the rest was legit. My accomplishments were real, my research was sound, but they were going to give the position to someone else, a friend of the director, and I couldn’t let that happen, not when I was so close. Not when I deserved it just as much, maybe more. We’d struggled financially for so long.”
I want to tell him I understand, but my heart is sinking like a scuttled ship, and my image of him is crumbling like the shattered figurehead on its prow. Is no one who they seem to be?
“I guess you forgot to check your privilege, huh?” I murmur.
“Daisy—”
“I get it, I do. I just thought things had unfolded differently, and it’s hard to mentally adjust to this. How much does Mom know?”
“She knows about your grandmother and our ancestry. But she thinks my gift is dormant.”
“And you want me to hide this from her. About your job, and how you got it.”
He sighs. “You make me sound like one of those awful parents in TV shows, forcing their kid to keep their secrets. I don’t want to put you in that position, so…I’ll tell your mother everything tomorrow.”
The slump of his shoulders hurts my heart. Mentally I try to imagine my dad, my rational, gentle, quiet father, living with this power, swearing never to use it—and then breaking that vow, just once, for us. For his family. And he’s going to confess to Mom, for my sake. Because he won’t be the person who lays that burden of silence on me.
I’m disappointed in him, and a little angry, but I love him. He’s the one who taught Jay how to be a decent man. Goodness knows there wasn’t anyone else around to be Jay’s role model.
Telling Mom is the right thing to do, but I ache for Dad, having to admit that to her. I ache for her, having to deal with it.
“What if she asks you to resign from your job? What if we lose everything and we have to leave here?”
“If that’s what your mom wants, that’s what I’ll do.”
“You’re going to put that decision on her? Is that really fair?”
Dad rubs the scruff along his jaw. His eyes are wrinkled at the corners, and he looks tired, so tired. “I messed up, Daisy. And there’s no perfect solution now. That’s what using your powers will do. It’ll put you in a no-win situation where every option is some shade of moral gray. I can’t go back and change what I did, so we have to find a way to move forward. If that means giving up my job to keep your mother, I’ll do it. If she thinks we should stay here, I’ll do that, too. And I’ll have to live with the unfairness of what I did to get where I am.”
I’m about to protest, but Jay and I talked about something similar recently—how we can’t go back. We have to move forward from where we are now.
As for me, I’ve already dipped my toes into the morally gray pool, unintentionally at first, and then as a test of my ability. I want to believe I won’t go any deeper, but who knows? Who am I to judge my father when I’m venturing into the same waters myself?
“Lots of people do questionable things to get ahead,” I tell him. “I’m not saying it’s right, and I don’t think you should ever do it again—but honestly, I don’t blame you. Though I think you should find a way to pay it forward.”
Dad’s eyes are glittering with tears, and that troubles me more than anything else he’s said tonight. “I hate that I haven’t been the best example to you.”
