The shock took a while to subside. I’d been carrying that memory around with me for so long, missing it by milliseconds in my dreams. Now what?

First, I made a mental note to buy Tobe the biggest drink on the planet. I owed him big time, as I’d just gotten a sliver of my life back. Second, I rushed into a pair of jeans and a shirt, and called Wade until he picked up. It was well after midnight, and he didn’t sound too happy to have actually heard the phone ring.

“Ugh, what do you want?” he grumbled.

“I have something to talk to you about. It’s urgent,” I said, with very little sympathy. He was probably exhausted, but I’d just remembered something about my past. He could sleep later. I briefly wondered why I’d thought of him first, before anyone else, but I refused to let my brain go down that particular rabbit hole.

“It took me forever to fall asleep,” he protested.

“I remembered something,” I replied. “About my father.”

There was silence on the line, followed by a shuffle and a zipper being pulled.

“Meet me by the magnolia trees downstairs,” he said, then hung up.

Less than five minutes later, he found me underneath the pink blossoms of magnolia trees, rooted firmly in the middle of the dome-shaped living quarters. His dark hair was tousled, his green eyes reduced to slits—he was struggling to stay awake. I felt sorry for about two seconds, until I decided to trust him with the knowledge of the dreamcatcher and my dream. By the time I was done, he was wide awake, two green gems cutting through the fabric of my soul.

“His name was Hiram,” I said. “That’s all I remember for now. I bet I’ll capture more with the dreamcatcher going forward.”

“Hiram,” he repeated absently.

“Where can I find him? Are there archives, records we could look into? I can’t wait till tomorrow, Wade. I can’t wait another second. Frankly, I would’ve let you sleep, but I don’t even know where to break in and start looking for answers.”

His forehead smoothed as he gave me a stern look. “You will do no such thing. I’m here, I’m up, I’ve got this. And stop telling me about your intentions to break rules, or I’ll have to report you.”

“Really, Mr. I-Snuck-Into-The-Bestiary?”

He blinked a couple of times, then exhaled. “Fair enough,” he replied, slightly amused. “Follow me.”

“Where?”

“I know where to look for Hiram,” Wade said, then dashed ahead through the main hallway leading toward the common areas.

My heart thudded nervously, and I could barely stay focused for more than a minute, before a million questions trickled through and loosened my grip on reality.

“Harley.” Wade’s voice pulled me back.

Only then did I realize we’d stopped in front of a set of double doors. There was a brass plate mounted at eye level: Lewis Rathbone Wing.

“What’s this?” I asked.

“It’s one of the coven’s archives,” Wade replied, then uttered a spell to open the doors. It wasn’t the Aperi Portam incantation, though. It sounded longer, more complicated, and it made the doorknobs light up red right before they turned on their own.

I followed him inside, trying my best not to gasp at what seemed like endless walls loaded with leather-bound books. The ceiling was dark, and it seemed as though the shelf-covered walls went on forever, disappearing into the shadows far above. Wade snapped his fingers, and his ten rings took on a soft, golden glow, creating a source of light in the enormous archive hall.

There were reading tables scattered along the sides, with the occasional ladder mounted here and there—for access to what looked like seven stories’ worth of books. So… many… books… If ever I needed to curl up with a book and a hot chocolate, this could easily be the perfect spot. A reading nook the size of freaking Grand Central Station.

Right in the middle of the hall was a small desk, with a very old computer on top—the ‘90s kind, with a blocky monitor and a processing unit that was literally the size of a large box. I’d only seen one in movies. They’d already become exhibits in science museums.

“We don’t keep electronic copies in this coven,” Wade continued. “There was a hacking incident a few years back, so we decided to hold on to the hard copies until a safer alternative is found.”

“How does this work, then?” I asked. “Wouldn’t you need electronic copies to search for anything? Like with keywords?”

“We do use keyword search. However, this old boy has a little magical upgrade.” Wade smirked, then playfully tapped the top of the computer monitor. “Here, let me show you. Let’s try a search term. Hiram.”

He typed my father’s name, and I watched the letters appear in green on the black screen. Wade then hit the enter key, and the text vanished. The cables coming out from the back glowed white, going right into the wooden floor. The light spread across the entire surface, bathing the entire hall in a phosphorescent warm white.

I held my breath, watching every single shelf and book gleaming, before it all died down and a single object remained bright—a large registry on a top shelf in front of us. “Wow,” I breathed.

“The computer is connected to the physical archives through a spell. Anything you need, just type the search terms in here,” Wade said, nodding at the computer, “and it will find references of it everywhere in this hall. Every note, every page, every mention of that word will light up. Can you get that?”

He pointed at the glowing object with mentions of Hiram. I climbed up one of the ladders and retrieved the book. Its shimmer faded once I opened it on top of one of the reading tables nearby. Its title made my stomach churn: Undesirables of the 20^th Century.

As I flipped through the pages, I caught glimpses of various headlines. Newspaper clippings dating as far back as the early 1900s had been glued onto the old, yellowed paper, each showing magicals who had been accused and convicted of various crimes against other magicals and, in many cases, humanity.

Most of the names didn’t ring a bell. Others were known as serial killers and convicted war criminals. My throat closed up tighter with every page. My father was mentioned here, according to the search system.

Wade joined me, watching quietly as I flipped through, my gaze scanning the clippings for Hiram. “Undesirables,” he said thoughtfully, and his furrowed brow didn’t ease my worry one bit.

“Oh, man,” I managed, my fingers trembling over a heart-wrenching headline, which I read out loud, my voice raw. “‘Hiram Merlin, 28, Killer of Own Wife in NYC Murder Spree Was Executed’… Oh, God.”

I leaned onto the table, my knees turning to sand. My insides burned, threatening to send back the little I’d managed to eat during the day. I broke into a cold sweat as I read through the article. Wade said nothing, his gaze following the text, as well.

The article was dated sixteen years ago, and it had been published in the New York Coven Journal, a local newspaper. Hiram Merlin, aged twenty-eight at the time, had murdered his wife, Hester Merlin, née Shipton. I recognized the man in the black-and-white photo—his hair was shorter, but his devilish smile, his handsome features, his sharp cheeks… they were all there.

According to the report, he’d burned her alive, while she was presumably still pregnant with their first child. Me? Had to be me, and she was no longer pregnant with me when he killed her.

“He then went on a murderous spree and vanished for three years, despite consistent efforts to track him down,” Wade murmured. “Hiram Merlin was the former director of the New York Coven, and a descendant of the great Merlin himself. Hester Merlin’s sister, Katherine Shipton, is also missing, and a suspect in five other murders on top of the above. According to a slew of rumors, Hiram and Katherine were having an affair and conspired to kill Hester, in order to cash out on her life insurance and hefty inheritance. The lesser able of two sisters, Katherine was cut from the Shiptons’ will at an early age, after she was caught embezzling Boston Coven funds, where she’d been assigned a couple of years back. Nobody knows when and how Hiram and Katherine planned this horror, but one thing is certain—”

“While Katherine Shipton is still missing, Hiram Merlin has been given his just desserts yesterday at 16:01 hours…” I kept reading, despite the tears glazing my eyes and the tremor in my voice. “Hiram willingly surrendered early last week, but denied all charges brought against him, claiming that it was all Katherine Shipton’s doing. Persistent in declaring his undying love for Hester Shipton, Hiram refused to acknowledge his involvement in her murder, along with the gruesome deaths of six other magicals and humans. Among his victims were Telford Brown and Sharon Oxford, members of the New York Mage Council, and beloved magicals best known for their extensive research into the preservation of Esprits and magical powers upon the magical’s death. However, the evidence against Hiram Merlin was undeniable, leaving the jury no other choice but to sentence him to death.”

My legs abandoned me completely. I simply collapsed, but Wade was quick to catch me, his arms pulling me back up. He sat me on top of the table, and I could sense he felt my pain, his gaze soft and full of pity. I could barely breathe at that point, sobbing between hiccups.

My father was Hiram Merlin. And he was a murderer. My father… killed my mother. He had an affair with her sister and… Good grief… Weren’t couples supposed to love and protect each other? What the hell happened?!

“I never should’ve looked into this,” I cried out.

Wade placed a hand on my shoulder, his deep green eyes almost soothing me. “Don’t be silly. You deserve to know the truth, no matter how bad it is,” he said gently. “I’m sorry, Harley. I really am.”

“He… He killed my mom,” I said, shuddering. “My father… It’s him. I recognize him in the photo. He’s the man holding me in his arms… telling me how much he loves me. He… He killed his wife, my mom… He abandoned me at an orphanage… Left me that damn note and… What do I do, Wade? How… What can I make of this?”

I was at a loss. I’d gotten my hopes up. It hadn’t occurred to me that my father might not be the hero I’d daydreamed him to be over the years. I’d put him in the boots of a knight in shining armor, lost somewhere in a daring quest, hoping that one day, maybe, he’d find me. I’d thought about it so many times, imagining where he was, what he was doing…

The truth was a horror show. Blood, murder, and betrayal. I’d lost my mother because of him and Katherine Shipton. I’d lost my chance at a magical upbringing because of them. I’d lost my family. My life.

Threads of red-hot anger intertwined with my gut-wrenching sorrow. His note was what, then? His way of making himself look good to his daughter? A façade? A lie? He had no other choice, he’d said. He could’ve not murdered my mother, for starters!

“Are you sure it’s him?” Wade asked, as if hoping I’d gotten the wrong Hiram.

I couldn’t blame him. I’d thought about that, too, for a split second. But the man smiling back at me from the newspaper clipping was definitely the man I’d seen kissing my forehead, calling me by my name, telling me how much he loved me.

“It’s him. I just… I just don’t get it,” I replied between sniffles. “He had me for three years. This article says they couldn’t find him. That he surrendered… Why would he surrender, if no one could find him? Why leave me behind at an orphanage?”

“My guess is he wanted to keep you away from the magical world,” Wade said, then shrugged. “Though, that doesn’t make much sense. You would’ve been much safer at least knowing what you were from an early age, not left to struggle the way you probably did.”

I looked up at him, surprised by his sympathy. He was so kind, so gentle. I almost didn’t recognize him. A part of me wanted the hard-ass Wade back—that guy didn’t leave any room for me to wallow in self-pity. He nudged and kicked until I reacted, until I hit back. This Wade, however, as warm as he made me feel on the inside… also made me sad. He showered me with pity, and that just made everything feel worse, and real.

The doors opened, startling us both. Alton came in, carrying a large book under his arm. “What are you two doing here at this hour?” he asked, frowning.

Wade and I looked at each other for a moment. I swallowed another wave of tears, then pointed at the newspaper clipping. “I remembered something from my dreams. A lost memory. The name Hiram came up. My dad…”

Alton eyed me carefully, then joined us at the table and looked at the article. A couple of minutes later, he let out a flat, soft hum. “Yeah, the thought did cross my mind.”

“What?” I blurted.

“Harley, I’ll be honest,” Alton said. “From the moment we shook hands, I felt there was something special, different about you. Looking at this now, I’m not all that surprised. You do remind me of Hiram Merlin, in a way.”

“You knew him?” Wade replied. He was as stunned as I was.

Alton shook his head. “Not personally. I mean, we never really met. I saw him, more than once. But we never spoke.”

Silence settled, while my blood started to simmer. What else had he neglected to mention?

“By all means, keep going, I’m on the edge of my damn seat, here,” I said, gritting my teeth.

Guilt poured through, in heavy, gut-twisting waves that made it hard for me to move. Luckily, I was still sitting on the table, and not at risk of collapsing again. Alton’s pained expression felt like a hundred daggers poking at my heart.

“A jury was convened for your father’s trial,” Alton replied, his voice shaking slightly. “I was part of that jury. I did my duty as the New York Coven commanded at the time.”

“You were on the jury that sentenced my father to death?”

I could barely hear myself at that point.

“I didn’t know you were related, Harley,” Alton said. “And even if I knew, that wouldn’t change how I feel about you being here. My decision hasn’t, and cannot, change. You belong here, with us, whether you see it yet or not.”

“You… You sentenced my father to death,” I repeated, feeling as though my consciousness had somehow left my body.

“I was on the jury, Harley. We submitted it to a vote. It was eight against three for the death penalty, but I am bound by law to keep my vote a secret. I am sorry for your loss.”

My father was a convicted murderer. And Alton had sat on the jury that brought him to his death. It wasn’t the latter that really hurt me. Alton had simply done his job. It would’ve been unfair to hold it against him.

“I’m sorry, too,” I murmured.

“What happened, Alton? What made you think Harley was related to Hiram?” Wade asked, crossing his arms.

“Well, a number of things, actually. First, the eyes. Harley, you have your father’s eyes, a perfect copy. I’ve got a photographic memory; I remember every single detail. It took me a while to connect the dots, though, until tonight.”

He dropped the large book he’d brought in on top of the newspaper clipping album, and flipped through its pages. Various magicals were listed there as full Elementals, from what I could see at first glance. “What’s this?” I asked.

“I’ve been looking through records of full Elementals,” Alton replied. “This was the second thing that pointed me to Hiram Merlin as your father, and less of a long shot, compared to your physical similarities.”

He pointed at a section dedicated entirely to my father. Hiram Merlin was a full Elemental. And a murderer.

“It was only a vague idea, to be fair, just my instinct tugging at my sleeve,” Alton continued. “Until just now. What did you remember about Hiram?”

“Nothing much, really. Just his name. I was three, maybe… And there was a woman telling him that he had no other choice, that he had to give me up. I guess he was still on the run and I was holding him back. I don’t know.”

“What did the woman look like?” Alton asked, scratching his stubbled chin.

“A lot like him, actually. In her early forties. Maybe his sister?”

“Isadora Merlin. His elder sister, yes. She’s off the grid. She vanished shortly after Hiram was executed,” Alton confirmed.

“Good grief, I have so many questions.”

“Me too, but I doubt you’d have answers,” he replied, giving me a sad smile. “Nobody knew you were born. With what happened to Hester… We had no idea at the time.”

“Yeah, I gathered that from the article,” I said. “Who could possibly know what happened, besides my dad?”

“Katherine Shipton, but she vanished shortly after your mother’s murder. The details surrounding that tragedy are still quite murky. Your father maintained his innocence until he gave his last breath, despite the evidence pointing right at him. With no one to vouch for him or provide him with an alibi, he didn’t stand a chance.”

“You sound as though you think he was innocent,” I replied, frowning.

Alton shrugged. “I never excluded the possibility. Everyone who knew him personally was shocked when the news of Hester’s murder came out. Many didn’t believe it. To this day, some continue to claim he’s innocent. But he was tried and convicted, deemed irredeemable, and executed. We cannot change the past.”

“At least now you know who your parents were,” Wade said, trying to look for a bright side.

“Yeah. My dad allegedly killed my mom, lugged me around for three years, then dumped me at an orphanage. Oh, and apparently, he had an affair with my aunt. I think that about sums it up,” I said.

Now there were two magicals in the hall who were feeling sorry for me. That just added to my inner broil, giving me the urge to just blow this joint and run off somewhere quiet, where I didn’t have to deal with any of it.

But who was I kidding? I wanted to know more now. I needed to understand the relationship between my parents. I had to find out more about my mother. To understand why my father had done such a horrible thing.

“What about the other magicals he killed?” I asked.

“Their families never really recovered. Shortly after Hester’s death, five others were killed, and all the signs pointed to him. The evidence was overwhelming, hence the verdict.” Alton sighed. “Listen, I’ve kept something of his. I brought it here with me from New York. I actually had it stored here, in the archive. Come.”

He motioned for Wade and me to follow as he took us deeper into the archive hall. At the very end, on a bottom shelf, stuffed behind a pile of old notebooks and journals, was a small, silver-plated box. H.A. Shipton was engraved on the lid, I noticed, as Alton took the box out and gave it to me.

I slowly leaned into Wade, once again feeling my legs turn to jelly. The box had belonged to my mother.

“Hester Anne Shipton,” Alton said slowly. “Hiram had this box in his possession when he surrendered. It’s still considered evidence, even after his execution, but we’ve never been able to look inside. I was entrusted with it, in hopes that I’d eventually find a way to open it. The lock is charmed with some kind of spell, but I’ve yet to identify what it is.”

“Oh,” I breathed. The image of a woman—my mother—burning to death was something I’d never get out of my head, even though I’d never seen her. “So, you don’t know what’s in here?”

“No. But I think it belongs to you. I’ve had no luck in getting it opened, and maybe you will. I hope,” Alton replied. “The Shiptons passed away a long time ago, and Isadora was the last of the Merlins. I guess now you’re the last of the Merlins.”

We slowly walked back to the door leading back into the hallway, as I held the box close to my chest. Wade kept himself close, probably in case I collapsed again. I couldn’t exclude the possibility—I felt weak, almost lifeless, as grief clawed at my insides and reopened old wounds.

Clearly, I’m not getting any sleep tonight.

“For what it’s worth, Harley,” Alton said after some time, “whatever happened with your parents and your aunt is in the past. They’re all gone. At least you have some kind of closure, and you know where you come from.”

“Yeah, my dad killed my mom and six other people, but hey, I have a fancy box now,” I said, unable to keep my bitterness to myself. It hurt too much. I had to let some of it out.

We put the books away, then headed outside. I caught movement ahead, just by the door, and lifted my gaze. I could’ve sworn I saw Garrett just then, but by the time we reached the hallway, there was no one around. With the thought of Garrett and that botched date from earlier, it wasn’t a surprise that he was, in some form, still on my mind. I could’ve just imagined it, anyway, especially since the main hallways and the adjacent ones were all empty.

“But you’re you, Harley,” Wade replied, his tone firm and strangely comforting. I had a feeling my hard-ass Wade was coming back. Great timing, too, because I was crumbling on the inside. “And Merlin sounds better than Smith as a last name.”

“Your parents were nowhere near Mediocre, though,” Alton mused. “They were both fearsome and extremely capable magicals. I’ll put together some records for you regarding your parents’ abilities, and send them over next week, for you to read.”

“Thanks,” I said, following up with a heavy sigh.

Alton’s sympathetic expression was supposed to make me feel better, but I had a hard time looking at him and seeing the same magical I’d met the other day. This magical had known my father. He had been part of the jury that ended his life.

And I couldn’t hate him. I couldn’t even be angry with him.

According to the evidence, my father had killed a lot of people, including my mother.

And he ruined my life in the process.