Page 134 of De-Witched

She grinned up at him. “That’s a nice sound. I’ve heard it more since she’s been around.” She slid her hand over the railing so she brushed his fingers. “You love her, don’t you?”

He exhaled. Saying nothing, he faced the gardens, too. When he spoke, his voice was low, but strong as spelled steel. “Yes.”

Melly’s whoop made him start. “I’m so happy for you,” she crowed. “And me. Leah’s cool.”

“For a human?”

“For anyone. Better than the legacy lovers that always primp when you walk into a room.”

He ignored that, focusing on the more important point. “You’ve never had an issue with humans,” he said. “The opposite, in fact. Why?”

“Why did you?”

He hesitated.

“Gabriel.” Melly angled her body toward his, eyes suddenly serious in her young face. “I’m fourteen, almost fifteen. I can handle it.”

She really was growing up on him. “Because of how Mother and Father died,” he admitted. “And not just...the rebels.” His shoulders rode a discomforted wave as he stumbled for words. “I felt like they’d chosen them. The humans.”

“Over us?” Her voice was soft.

He moved his head in a small nod.

Sunlight dappled over features that spoke of both of their parents as his sister drew her bottom lip between her teeth, darting him a glance. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t remember them.” She didn’t look at him now, focused on the gardens. “I feel guilty that I don’t, and a little sad. But I don’t have that connection with them. Everything you’ve told me, everything I’ve read or heard, it makes me proud to be their daughter. They dedicated their lives to helping others. But...” Her mouth pinched. “I just don’t feel it.”

He had no idea what to say. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t want to tell you in case you, I don’t know, thought less of me.”

He covered her hand. “I would never think less of you.”

“Not even when I blew the roof off with that potion?”

“Maybe then.”

They both smiled.

Something churned inside him, an ocean he’d worked to keep inside. But as he looked at his sister, at the young adult she was becoming, Gabriel realized it was time to let it out. “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Always.”

She meant that. He held the brilliance of that to him as he removed his hand from hers, gripped the railing. “I’m so damn mad at them.”

“Mother and Father?”

“They were never around. They chose to leave you, to help other people instead of spending even a fraction of time with you.”

“With us.”

He shook that away. “And even worse—” His voice caught as the truth he’d tried to bury stuck in his throat. He felt Melly’s hand slide onto his, drew strength from it. “Even worse,” he continued, gruff, “was that they chose not to risk exposure and live for us.” The words left him after a lifetime in the dark, leaving him raw and open. Somehow free.

A flock of birds passed overhead, their calls the only sound for several heartbeats. “You grew up alone, Gabriel,” were his sister’s first words, surprising him. “I had you, Uncle August.” Her hand tightened on his. “You grew up alone, and with their disapproval when you tried to get their attention. Please,” she said as he glanced at her, “you don’t think Mrs. Q tells stories?”

He winced.

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