“I don’t have much time,” said Mal, “but I do want to know something. Why did you abandon my mother when you found out she was pregnant?”
His father’s eyes were wide.
“I don’t suppose you have an answer that would please me or change my mind about killing you.”
The woman began sobbing, clutching onto the older man. “It’s alright, Cherie,” said the man, his French accent thick.
Mal laughed in an unsettling way. “I desired to know you for so long. I blamed you for so long,” said Mal. “Now, I want nothing except your human existence erased.”
He pointed a slender finger at the woman, and then at his grandfather. They fell to the floor, limp, smashing their heads on the glass table in the process.
This was the first time Maeve had ever seen magic kill. It was illegal, deemed so by the Orator’s Office, to use any Magic to kill, let alone a dark spell designed just for that. That was ancient and feared Dread Magic. They were redacted from the curriculum at Vaukore long before Maeve’s time, but maybe Mal found the killing curse in one of their stolen Library books.
Maybe Magic was more instinctual.
Maybe Mal wanted to kill. And his Magic obeyed.
Mal’s father looked at his parent’s dead bodies in disbelief. His skin turned pale. His voice was broken and shaking as he turned back to Mal.
“You’re my son.”
In a flash of red light, Malachite Sr.’s face sliced open, spewing blood across Mal’s own face and robes. His father’s face contorted in agony.
Maeve’s stomach twisted. Her hands flew to her face, covering her mouth.
His Father lifted off the floor with the slightest movement of Mal’s fingers. His body tight against Mal’s magic.
“Did you know she was pregnant?” Mal’s voice was unsettlingly calm.
Blood spewed from his father’s mouth.
“No,” he cried.
Mal watched him for a moment. “Maeve.”
Maeve’s heart kicked. Her breathing was quick. She stepped towards Mal. Her hands shook at her sides.
“This is Maeve,” he said. His father’s bloodshot eyes moved to her. They begged her for help.
She swallowed hard.
“She’s going to enter your mind. And see if you are lying.”
Malachite Sr. began sobbing, choking on his own air.
“Unless you’ve had a change of heart?” Asked Mal. “And have found the truth?”
His Father nodded. Mal’s hand fell to his side and his father to the floor.
“Did you know?” Mal repeated.
His Father nodded. “I-left-her. . .in,” he heaved, “London. I couldn’t- I shouldn’t have been with her-”
Maeve’s eyes were burning. Her throat was tight.
“And you didn’t care if I lived or died?” Asked Mal.
His Father bowed his head. “I was-a- child-”
