Fergus sighs, his head dropping back against his pillow. “Yes.”
Somehow that’s worse. If we can both see it, then this is real. I just saw a man turn into a wolf. A wolf who is scratching himself in the middle of the room like he has every right to be here.
“W-why aren’t you more surprised?” I ask with mounting suspicion.
Fergus looks tired. “Because I’m a witch.”
A bark of laughter escapes me, but my grandfather doesn’t return my humor.
Lifting a hand, he curls his finger as if he’s beckoning to me. I jump out of my skin when the faucet turns on all by itself. Before my eyes, a paper cup levitates right out of the stack, fills itself, then flies right into my grandfather’s waiting hand.
“Do you believe me now?”
I can’t speak. There has to be a logical explanation for this. Maybe there’s something in the water, or—
The wolf whines, making me jump. The huge beast lowers himself down to his belly. His green eyes are identical to Lyall’s, the only thing human in his beastly body. They’re mournful. Is he feeling sad? Why?
A shudder racks the wolf, and his fur pulls back from his body, revealing Lyall on his knees before me, still dressed in his streetwear as if he didn’t shift into a wolf at all. “I didn’t mean to frighten you.”
I can’t hold back my burst of hysterical laughter. “I’m sorry, you just turned into a fucking wolf! What else was I supposed to feel? Happy?”
Closing my eyes tightly, I suck in quick breaths. Magic is a thing. Werewolves are real. My grandfather is a fucking witch. Oh my god. Fergus knew. He knew all this time, and he kept this from me!
“Soren, it’s all right,” Fergus says, but his voice is far away, like I’m underwater, like I’m drowning.
“It’s not!” My voice fills the room, cracking under the strain. “You’re a witch! You can do magic! He just turned into a wolf! Nothing about this is all right!” I stumble, gripping onto the doorknob for support.
“No, I suppose it isn’t…”
Lyall clears his throat. “I didn’t show you what I am to upset you. I showed you because you deserve to know the truth.”
“Which is?” I snap, wiping sweat from my forehead. “What? That I’m crazy? That nothing I know is real? That you’ve kept this from me all my life?” I turn to my grandfather, who averts his gaze down to his hands, where they’re clenching the blanket. “What else did you lie about?”
Fergus flinches.
Oh fuck.
Is there more he hasn’t told me? I try to swallow, but my mouth has gone bone dry.
“Tell him,” Lyall says, making me look at him now. Somehow the two of them are in on this. It makes my stomach cramp with dread.
Fergus closes his eyes tight. When he opens them, they’re glassy with tears. “No matter what, Soren, I want you to know that the love I have for you has always been real.”
Silence descends upon the room, and I hold my breath, terrified of what I’ll learn when it finally breaks.
The paper cup of water shakes in Fergus’s grip. He takes a gulp, then lowers the cup into his lap. “It’s true. I am a witch. So was everyone in my family before me. Since the Viking age, witches have worshipped Freya. It’s through her blessing that we receive our magical gifts. Much like how Lyall’s people worship Fenrir and are rewarded with the ability to shift.”
I want to call bullshit, but I just saw this guy turn into a wolf and a cup fly into my granddad’s hand on command like a bird.
“Long ago my ancestors performed a magic ritual that allowed them to travel between the past, present, and future. There was chaos at first as the timelines clashed. My ancestors sealed the portals and created magical artifacts that would allow travel between realms without disturbing the balance of all three.”
“Wait. Stop. Why are we talking about time travel? That’s a thing too?” The doorknob isn’t doing a good job of keeping me on my feet anymore. I stumble to the nearest chair and collapse onto it.
“Aye,” Lyall answers, and something clicks into place in my brain. “We’re in your present world, but the time I’m from is long past.”
When I look at him, it’s like I’m seeing him for the first time. The antique clothes he wore the night we met… his archaic way of speaking…
“You’re a…” The words get trapped behind my teeth. Even after everything I’ve seen tonight, saying this out loud still feels wrong. Like saying the Earth is flat, or that the moon landing was fake. There are undeniable truths in this world. Time travel, magic, werewolves, witches… these are all things I believed could never exist.
