Wicked Truth

It was past ten pm on the clock and Marcus Cahill had just dropped a bombshell in their family's arsenal. He sat there watching his children watch him like they did not know who he was anymore.

Marcus wished more than anything that he could turn back time. He hadn't told them everything yet. The truth had many layers to it and this was just the cherry on top.

"My mother passed away and before the next month, you were walking down the aisle with Lisa's mom. I was only six, but the memory of it is crystal clear in my head. You can't sit here and tell me it never happened," Damien said with an edge to his voice. Lisa could feel the weight of his stare the whole time.

Her father's gaze never left hers. They were of the same earthy colour as Damien's and he also had thick brows hanging over an aquiline nose. In another life, they would pass off as twins.

"There were decisions needed to be made that no one else could handle. It was never true, Damien. Everything you witnessed that day was a lie."

Damien felt like he could self-destruct any minute. Searching hard into his mind for memories that seemed too perfect that they were fake. He knew that for him, this Saturday night would be one of those crazy moments that shaped a person's entire life forever.

Lisa Cahill didn't know what to think anymore. She had no words. Hearing her step father now, the pang of clarity in her chest came too soon.

"Are you saying that my mother, the woman that gave birth to me, was a witch?"

Marcus worked his jaw and stared off.

"Yes, but your mother wasn't just any witch. Gemma was a Bishop witch." He breathed a pause. "The most powerful magical bloodline had its roots in our city and Lisa, you are one of them."

With that, Damien jumped to his feet like a rocket launched and came around to where Lisa sat. He held the arms of her seat and roughly steered it away from the table towards him.

Lisa jerked to a stop from the force and said, "Have you lost your mind?"

"Not really, but I'm almost at it." He cracked a smile that lacked mirth. His arms caged her in the seat, where he raged down at her with his gaze.

"I'm serious as a heart-attack, Damien. You'd better move because I will not sit here and watch you throw one of your shit fits. I have had enough."

"You lied. You're the real liar here. A witch's descendant? You have been deceiving us all along."

"Oh, I think you are there now. You've finally lost it, brother." She rolled her eyes.

Damien picked up an arm without care, then the other, then he tugged the skin under her greys.

He said in between as she struggled to fight him off, "Come on, humour us. Do the whole voodoo thingy with your hands, witch."

Her hackles rose. Steam poured from her ears like a kettle falling over a hundred degrees.

In the background, Rule returned from the dispenser by a corner. He brought his father the cup of water he had requested and dropped it at his front. He didn't bother walking back to his seat. Marcus swiped the disposable cup up and took a short drag, eyes tied to the scene playing out. He observed the energy flowing between his two kids like a hawk and realized another truth.

Marcus cleared his throat softly. "Damien, that's enough. Your sister can't do what you want because she doesn't have that kind of power."

"Magic is something a person is born with. You can't tell me she never knew she was special," Damien said, never letting go.

"They are called Barren, son."

In seconds, Rule had grasped the idea. "You mean like someone without a child...she is without power?"

Marcus nodded and said, "Yes, but a barren witch isn't only one without magic. The book of all evils describes a barren witch as a cursed creature belonging to doom. The old law had once decreed that no Barren should live."

Lisa shoved away from a dumbstruck Damien and stood on wobbly legs, pulling tight. "Yet...here I am."

Sympathy lined the face of Marcus and her younger brother. Rule's gaze had met hers once and that passing second soothed her in the little way it could. Rule didn't judge her like Damien had done, and she was grateful...

All focus was on Marcus Cahill. They were on the verge of learning another truth. He was finally going to hit the nail on its head.

"Gemma Bishop couldn't let her clan know of what she had birthed. She was to become the next high priestess. Such a private scandal would have dealt a huge blow."

"So her best option was to bring her outcast to a hunter and strike a bargain?" Damien rushed in with a derisive tone and Lisa had clearly heard him from where he stood so close behind. She cringed at his word choice.

It felt like her heart was being rubbed against an uneven ground multiple times, but she'd pulled herself even tighter, battling with the tears.

"A massacre had just happened in the city and everyone was desperate to move on. I saw my chance in Gemma's offer and I took it."

She couldn't stand it anymore. She had to stop them before it was too late. Lisa drew the line first.

"We can discuss family ties some other time. Tell us about the veil instead. What does it have to do with the witch Queen and her mark?" Lisa found her voice and surprised herself with the strength she displayed. Living the last while in her place would leave anyone buried in tears and feeling lost.

Marcus motioned for the big book to be brought to him. His cup had run dry.

"For centuries, the Cahill generations hunted shapeshifters called werewolves. We kept the peace in this city and overstepped our boundaries in special cases; like in that of a rogue witch or with demons and persistent ghosts."

Rule, as the youngest, carried out his additional request without being told. When he got the book, Marcus flipped to the page that had caught Damien's eye earlier.

"The massacre made the wolves and all changelings an even greater threat. I had to find a permanent remedy, and when Gemma brought Lisa to me in exchange for a magical veil that would lock them out, I couldn't refuse."

A growing bubble of silence wrapped through until Damien popped it.

"Why do I feel like there's more to what you are saying?"

He wasn't alone. They were all on the same boat. That silent 'but' blared in their ears like a burglar alarm would.

"In our history books, we learned enough about the witch's realm, but never got the chance to encounter them. If my mother struck a bargain with you, what then had she struck with the high priestess? The only one powerful enough to perform such a complex spell," Lisa said, pinching her eyes in deep thought.

Rule then chipped in like the natural born investigator he was.

"A lifetime of peace," he said, murmuring at first, becoming more confident. "It has to be the ability to join hands and no longer be among the hunted. To have the immunity that no other supernatural could have."

"That still doesn't explain the mark." Harshing their mellows, Damien gave their father room to speak.

Marcus heaved a sigh and ran his fingers along the profile of Lycaon's stunning red glare. He was going to do it.

"Your brother is right. Katrina wanted peace, but she'd also made me promise that our lineage will defend the veil with our lives."

That was it. The truth and it was scarier than hell.

Lisa looked at the man speaking as dread brewed in her mind. She gulped down the lump in her throat.

"Is it possible? Can the veil actually be broken?"

Marcus looked her way.

With a slow bob of his head, he said, "Yes. It can be. In fact, it was broken twenty-two hours ago."

Damien had felt for the nearest chair with the back of his leg and slumped into it. His head ached and burned badly. The image of his terrible fight with the demons in the alley flooded back. His narrow escape, the visit from the woman in a dark regalia, and his entire life; everything flashed before his eyes in that moment. This was crap, he thought.

"Queen Snow delivered her verdict. We have a hundred days left to capture the trespassers and return things back to normal."

"O-or else?" Rule's voice quivered like currents.

Marcus stared him in the eye.

"We all die."