My phone buzzed. I checked the screen. Unknown number. I answered. “Hello?”
“Susie Bean? Is that you, darlin’?”
I stammered for a moment.“Dad?”
“Too right it is. How are you, little bean? It’s been a while.”
Donovan, walking slowly next to me, raised an eyebrow. I grimaced at him. “Too long, Dad. It’s been too long. I guess you got my message.” I’d made a flurry of calls to both my mother and my father as soon as I realized that Donovan and his company weren’t hallucinations, but neither of them had answered. My mother was on a spiritual journey somewhere in Cambodia. I had no idea where my dad was.
“What message?”
“I left a voicemail for you.”
“You know me, darl. Can’t keep a phone on me to save my own life. What was the message about?”
“Er… where are you?”
“Still in Perth. We’re heading down the mines right now, in fact. Thought I better give you a quick call before I lose cell reception.”
“I had something to ask you, but now might not be a good time.” Not if he was on a bus filled with other miners.
“Now or never, Susie Bean,” my dad said cheerfully. “Once we get to the Pilbangabanga, we’re going to lose reception.”
I glanced at Donovan and realized he had tensed. No longer walking with me, he’d shifted into a new gait, stalking, eyes flashing, poised to strike, listening carefully.
“I wanted to ask you about your heritage,” I said into the phone, dropping my voice to a whisper.
Dad hesitated. The phone line crackled. “Oh.”
A high, reedy cry echoed through the night. The air around me prickled.
“Chosen.” Donovan put his hand on my arm, stopping me in my tracks. Every line in his body was taut and vibrating with tension. We were just inside the warded gates; the odd blue glow of the ward shimmered in front of me. “Stay here.”
I shifted uncomfortably, not wanting him to leave me, but I needed to speak to my dad right now. It might be months before I got hold of him again.Okay, I mouthed.
Donovan flexed his huge shoulders, shrugging off his jacket, and pulled an enormous sword out of nowhere. His eyes glinted emerald in the dim light. He froze for one moment, listening carefully, then stalked forward, out of the gates, past the ward, into the dark, leafy street outside.
“Okay, love,” my dad finally said. “What did you want to know?”
A sudden urge to throw a tantrum poked at me. “Were you ever going to tell me that you’re not exactly human?”
He chuckled nervously. “I did, love, I did. You remember what your mum used to call me? A devil, an imp, a wicked little pixie, a leprechaun, a yowie, a little bloodsucking vampire.”
“I thought most of them were cute nicknames,” I hissed. “I didn’t know you were being serious. How was I to know that she was listing yourancestors?”
“Well…” he hesitated. “Your mum didn’t want you dwelling on it all, so she never wanted to talk about it. She’s a little mix of things as well, just like me. Mostly from the Upper World, though, so she was always a little embarrassed about falling for a handsome rogue like me.”
I slapped myself in the forehead with my palm. Now I knew where I got my penchant for falling for untrustworthy heartbreakers. My own mother had done the same thing.
“Your mum was already uncomfortable about being a mix. Her granny and grandad were mixes, too, but they were a bit snobbier about it. Me, I couldn’t give two shits.”
“So, it’s all true, then? I’m a mix of every humanoid species in all three of the Worlds?”
“Huh. I suppose you are, little bean. I’d have to get the ol’ family tree out to take a look, but I think that on my side, we’ve got most of the Lower World and a good chunk of the Middle covered. Your mum is a mix of the Upper World, and some of the Middle. And don’t be fooled—her great-great-great grandmother was part succubus, so she’s got some of the Lower in her as well.”
I sighed. “Didn’t either of you think this would be important information at any point? I’m not human, dad.”
“One part is human. Maybe one-twenty-six-hundredth of you is human. But… little bean.” Dad’s voice suddenly turned so tender, it made me want to cry. “Neither of us wanted you to think that it mattered in any way, because in truth, it doesn’t. Fair dinkum,” he said firmly. “You’re you, baby. You’re the most perfect thing in all the universe. Me and your mum never wanted anyone to look down on you for being a mix, so we kept you in the dark in the first place. I mean, I never copped that kind of shit—well, I did, but I never really cared. But your mum did. That’s why she spent so much effort making sure you lived normally, as a human. The truth is, your mixed heritage is a good thing, not a bad thing. You got the best of all of us, Susie. You could negotiate a ceasefire in the Middle Eastanddrink a Russian miner under the table.”
