“Since you're sleeping with my daughter, you probably should have known that already,” my dad growled.
“Dad!” I snapped.
“It's a common mistake,” Mom hurried to say as she slapped her husband's arm reproachfully.
Dad hunched his thick shoulders as if he might tackle Verin. My mother slapped him again and kept slapping him until he grudgingly slanted his blue-green glare her way. She smoothed back his dark hair once she had his attention—like petting an angry pitbull.
“Robert,” Mom said gently, “you've been enchanted before, try to remember what it was like and be a little more sympathetic.”
My father grimaced.
“It's not their fault—neither of them,” Mom went on. “We need to help them, not lecture them.”
Dad let out a long sigh and nodded. Then he looked at me to say, “Your men came to see us. They told us about you running off with the dragon.” He waved a hand flippantly at Verin.
“Dad, you might also do well to remember that Verin helped me on several occasions and saved my life twice.”
“Fine,” Dad grumbled. “I'm sorry I've been brusque with you, Dragon.”
“It's no scales off my back, Witch,” Verin shot back, then grinned at my father's raised eyebrows.
Dad chuckled and gave Verin an approving nod.
“Did you really have to bring up the way Sirens kill their lovers?” I grumbled. “Talk about airing our family's dirty laundry, Dad.”
“Oh, please,” Dad huffed. “Everyone knows that a Siren's singing lures men to their deaths, even humans know that.”
“Why don't we sit down?” My mother waved a hand toward the curving couch that faced the balcony.
The balcony's multiple sliding glass doors were open—moved all the way to either side so that fresh, salt-laced air flowed in. The scent of feathers and sea air with a hint of wood smoke—that was what home smelled like to me. I took a deep breath as I settled on the couch between my father and Verin while my mother took the chair on Verin's right; it had a thin back to accommodate her wings.
“How are you feeling, sweetheart?” Mom asked me.
“A little upset that someone is trying to kill me but other than that, I'm good, Mom. I'm happy.”
“Someone is trying to kill you?” She snarled, her stare shooting to her husband, who suddenly looked sheepish. “Did you know about this, Robert?”
“It's why they're here,” Dad admitted. “They want me to analyze a potion Scylla used.”
“Scylla?!” My mother stood as she shrieked. “That monster is after my baby?”
“That monster is dead, Mom.” I grabbed her hand and pulled her back down. “I killed her.”
My mom sort of deflated onto her chair. “Then who's trying to kill you?”
“That's the problem.” I grimaced. “Scylla had an accomplice and we suspect that they're a witch. I'm hoping Dad can help us figure out who they are, or at least what elemental family they're from.”
“Another witch?” my mother whispered. Then she straightened and growled, “What is wrong with your people, Robert?!”
Dad's expression turned beleaguered. “We don't even know for certain that it's a witch yet.”
My mother crossed her arms and pressed her lips together.
“We need to finish our first conversation before we get into—,” my father tried to deflect.
“We know the first situation,” my mother interrupted. “Vivian put a spell on our baby—granted it was to save Elaria's life so I hold no ill will toward Viv—but now, this spell has gained more power than it should have. Elaria and Verin require magical assistance but they don't want it because they believe they're in love.”
“Wearein love,” I said firmly. “The spell doesn't matter anymore. If it's even still active.”
