10/10/2017- 3,666

Chapter 3

The Ugly Truth

June 20, 2007

I tripped once on a large rock, and cursed the forming bruise on my knee. I wiped the rest of my tears away steeling myself.

I better get there before it's too late, because if I didn't then Aline Penhallow would never survive to see her next Saint Peter's Festival.

"Dad!" I screamed crossing the front gate.

I passed the glamour easily. My father's magic had never harmed me. I cost too much to be harmed by a simple protection spell.

The glamour only worked for people who he didn't want to see. Which was most certainly not me, I am his little girl. Everyone knows that, and he uses it to his advantage.

He would meet me in his PJ's, "Get me something from the Market."

"Okay."

He would sit to read a book, a black coffee in the other hand, "Go get me some feed for Herman, Sera, go get me some trinket, Sera, go to the Justice Department, Sera, will you mail-blah!"

"Why don't you just do it yourself?"

He would make his face, drinking a big gulp, and I knew the answer.

Glamours. He was good at those, good as his job as the resident Warlock of Idris. People needed him, but he did not need them. Lately he was tired of people in general. I was stuck in the between place. I was his buffer, and this was my repayment of his charity of raising my spoiled butt.

For instance, Glamours are magical illusions put up to elude others to seeing something else, when the actual place is concealed. It is usually used for mundanes for not seeing Downworlders, and Demons inches away from their face, or humongous cities that are not supposed to exist...Coughs…Idris...cough. If only actors and actresses, mob bosses, Brad Pitt, knew about using the cloaking spells, we would be rich.

"Dad!" I called for him, "you are watering the grass!"

The grass was exceptionally green today, and the August sun had not scorched it as bad as last year, but dad had been doing something because it looked amazing today. I felt a little dizzy, walking up the porch steps, my eyes drifting over the stoned slabs father had stacked with powerful magic. A big red sign welcomed me, the one I told him to take down ages ago.

Go away, no service, Will Be Killed on Sight, was blotted in big red coloring, his writing, his warning.

Speak to Sera, was right below it. I touched it remembering my childhood here. My father could be a grouch sometimes, but once you wiggled into his heart he was a sucker for cuddling.

I knocked repeatedly on the door, "Dad! DAAAAAAD!" I heard the creaking of the floor as someone opened the peep-hole.

"It's me," I repeat, "Open up, please." He was a stickler on manners, and to be honest I needed to be on my best terms if he was going to hear what I had to say.

"Sera? What are you doing here at this unholy hour?" He started undoing the bolts.

He opened the door and I saw him in his morning glory. He was still wearing one matching set of the Christmas pajama clothes I bought last year, the Ho Ho Ho, one. He wore them the whole year when he was working around the house. Not the same one, but different pairs of course. He called them his comfortable clothes. I called him lazy. Two ivory horns peeped out of his sleeping cap, "I'm kind of busy right now."

He was groggy and looked like he still wanted to get some hours of sleep in. His cheeks were a bit flushed which was a contrast to his familiar symmetrical green face. I felt like a three year old. I wanted to hid my face in his shirt and bawl my eyes out.

I bit my nails anxiously, "I know, but I really need to speak to you."

"This isn't the best time, Sera," A noise came from inside, he checked something behind him, "I still have to groom the Alicorn, and Magnus has me busy on some recent developments."

"Allie can wait Dad. This is important, life and death here."

He pinched his nose, "What is it this time? You haven't broken anything have you? I still haven't paid back the last one." I shook my head, "No wait, you set the Accords Hall on fire. Please tell me you didn't do it again."

"But you thought it was funny last time!"

He couldn't help but smile, "Not when I have to pay for it," he leaned against the door, "I knew I should have been stricter with you. I babied you too much."

I leaned against him playfully, "Don't worry Amatis is strict enough for the both of us."

"That's true, she is."

He waved me in, and I ran victoriously inside sitting on the plush red chair near the burning fireplace. It was my favorite one. I finally felt safe, my muscles melting against the soft barrier of chair fluff.

I looked around. Everything was just the way I had seen it three days ago. The dishes were still dirty, the floor needed a good mop, and in the majority of the room there were gadgets, potions in various points in the brewing process, and a cage with a hairy looking creature inside. It made a vulgar gesture at me.

"What's that?"

"It is a Mormo."

He levitated up the dishes on the table moving them to the sink still continuing the conversation, a spell made them clean themselves, and I forgot how easy chores were here, "is he a pet or a person?"

The Mormo growled at the word pet, "Neither. They are vampiristic breed in nature, and famous in some mythological tales for frightening individuals into behaving. Though they are a myth like you and me, and known to be quite treacherous," that get's the little furball's attention, "In definition it is a malevolent spirit that enjoys biting bad children."

"You're just saying that," I gave a weak laugh.

"Juju-nica-pau!" The creature was reaching towards me with greedy green hands, and it's bright butterscotch eyes became slithers of something far more mischievous than I ever could be, "Juju, Juju!"

It bared its sharpened yellow canines, "Juuuuujuuu!"

I jumped back in my chair, "creeper."

"Ignore him," dad said, "he has horrible manners," I didn't really want to know what had warranted such behavior, but I hoped he would brew the nastiness out of that little ugly thing.

Dad disappeared into the back room where he kept the more dangerous of his works. He was always working, and partially I blamed it on immortality. People went a little crazy with too much time. My father is a warlock, which means he was born from a human mother and a demon father. The offspring of such parents are said to have peculiar physical appearances, which can be seen in Dad's green skin, horned head, and extra finger which I call his "tea finger".

Other warlock and witches have had have cases of antlers, lizard skin, black wings, webbed hands, and extra digits. Though I have never met someone with all of those that would be frightening and a little badass if I do say so myself. Catarina Loss, my Aunty, was basically the most beautiful woman in the world, her blue-skin being a very appealing feature to me. If I could, I would die my skin black, and my hair blue.

Father kept me from doing alot of things, "what is wrong with you," my father came out of the kitchen, "you look- oh I forgot to go get the pliers, and I really should-" he took a turn into the kitchen literally disappearing, and reappearing near the front door. He was avoiding me, "Dad, I have something to tell you."

"I do too," I was taken aback by his need, "but you go first," he came back with two cups of hot tea. It was a bit late for tea, but I refrained from commenting. He was up to something.

I blew on my tea; "No, no, you go first," my curiosity beat my need for preservation for the moment. The Clave couldn't really find me when I was in a place they couldn't even see. When I left however, possibly for good with Jon, now that is where the problem lay. I couldn't make the Clave our enemy, but more importantly I needed my father as an ally. Jon and I would need all the help we could get.

"Lemon?"

"Yes, please," I loved how he always asked, and never assumed.

He sat in front of me, the coffee table separating us.

He took a sip, eyeing the fire, and then his black eyes locked with my grey ones.

"Magnus contacted me with some news," he said lightly.

"You want to talk about Magnus? Our Magnus? The High Warlock of Brooklyn?"

"Of course not, but nevertheless he has seemed to meddle into this conversation it would seem, and he was the herald of something…important," his Adam apple was bobbing like he was chocking on his tea, but I knew that was not the case. He looked so much older than his twenty year old appearance, and never had I seen his gaze so knowing before.

"Dad? Is everything okay?"

His head snapped up, "That, There is the problem, Sera. You can't say that," he put down the tea cup on the blood oak table separating us.

"Is there something wrong with saying everything's okay? Are you angry with me?"

"No, it's not that. Sera I am," he chocked again.

I sat patiently which was a push for me. I had never been still for anything in my life. But today was the exception, partially because I was so dreadfully afraid, and had never felt this way before. I never felt this, not on my first demon hunt, not when Aline embarrassed me on Adam's name-day, and not even if the Clave razed the house this very moment.

I was afraid of his wariness to tell me something, because he being afraid of something, scared me.

He looked pained, and I set my teacup down. I hadn't even taken a sip.

"Tell me," I whispered.

He opened his mouth but no words came out, my fist beat against the sides of the cushion.

"Just tell me Ragnor," I hadn't said his name in a long time.

It sounded so foreign to me.

"I am not your father."

Well that wasn't so hard, wait? What?

Now I was lost for words, and was hurt with the relieved expression on his face. He looked like a deflated balloon, one second high with anticipation, and the next BAM! Deflated.

"It had been bothering me for a long time. I am not your father, Sera, I am not your birth father," he chuckled a little, his eyes far away, not knowing that he was breaking my heart even more.

"That is not a joking matter," I felt my muscles go limp.

"You think I would want to joke about this. Sera, my little girl," I stepped over the coffee table, picking up speed, crashing, and weeping into his shirt. It came all out, the worry, the depression, the anxiety. He opened his arms wide, and like a big seventeen year old baby I sat in his lap holding onto his pajama shirt for dear life and wept. Wept until I was miserably talking into his shirt like there was no tomorrow. I didn't care if it was childish, or I was too old, and I would look downright ugly after. I needed my dad, and a healthy strong sob session.

I cried for a while. It could have been a few minutes, or hours but I didn't care I held on like he was the only thing important in my life, and in the moment yeah he was.

He cradled me even though we were nearly the same height now, "what are you thinking," he said.

"That," I sniffled, "In the back of my head I always knew. I was more Shadowhunter than Downworlder. Even when the children," I hiccupped, "would call me half-breed, witch-child, warlock bastard," he flinched, but I did not hold back, "I knew they were wrong, because I knew what I was. I was your daughter no matter what."

"I'm sorry they said those things," he petted my curly head which would have been awkward, but not when it came to him because he so rarely bonded with others. He was one of those people that put up fronts because it was easier that way. I wished I was more like him. I would be strong.

"Now, I wish I was wrong. I am so angry at you," my hand fisted his shirt, "why didn't you tell me? I had so many questions," especially younger, I had wanted to know everything and he had hoarded it all to himself. Selfish, and so much like me.

"I wanted to," he justified, "I really I did, but the truth is an ugly thing, and those who know it, should be weary with giving it out freely," I gulped down the last of my sobs.

"Don't talk in riddles," I wanted to add Dad, but I couldn't and it hurt, "speak plainly. Why didn't you tell me? Were you afraid?"

"Not afraid, I was wary of revealing such truths, because your innocence," he touched my cheek, "is a blessing, and I would have been taking that away from you. If I placed the past on your shoulders would you have become the person you are today? Could you live with the truth?"

I remembered Amatis words this morning.

I cleared my throat, "I don't know."

"I never was supposed to be a father, Sera. I never knew my father. My mother…" his mouth quirked up, "was a hero to me, and my father was a demon. My parenting experiencing was off the radar, and I was not a marrying man, so children were altogether nonexistent possibility. I didn't even know the wails outside my house were a babes. But there you were."

He had my rapt attention, "Little bundle squirming, and I didn't pick you up at first. I looked around to find whoever put you there, and tell them to choose another house," he was teasing, but I knew there was some truth in it, "so I had to bring you inside. The wolves would have got you, or some other creature."

"Shame on you stealing monster food," I chuckled.

His eyes glittered, "I almost left you, but there was something about you. I suddenly felt so sure examining your pale hair," I touched his equally paled hair, "and those green eyes," I touched my eyes, "you captivated me Sera, and I couldn't give you up. Even when the Clave came to claim you, I couldn't let you out of my arms. You were so small, and no one had wanted you," his eyes shimmered and I wondered if this was the first time I would see him cry.

"I spoke strongly as if it was the truth. She is mine, I said," he was holding his imaginary baby; "She is my little girl."

"The rest is history," I said, "I was destined for greatness, the Chosen One, Seraphina Fell," I grinned at him not used to seeing him so solemn. He had little reason to be sad.

"It was all history," he repeated.

I felt more tired, but lighter. I returned to my seat wiping my eyes feeling surprisingly more at ease than I had ever been in a while. Father was already his normal self, no tears shed at all.

"What a day," I said, "First Amatis in the morning, then the Clave, and now this," I gave an exasperated breath.

"What did you say about the Clave?"

I winced, he knew me too well, "About that," I went into depth about what Adam had told me, about Aline revealing me meeting with a supposed mundane which I made clear was not, the Clave knowing, and the very possibility they were at the doorstep this very moment. For better or less words he was pissed.

"Why would you converse with a mundane? Why would you even want to?"

Wow, dad a little racist, "Hey, he is my friend. First of all he is not a mundane he has markings which make him Nephilium, and the reason he isn't recorded in the Archives is because he keeps to himself because he likes it that way."

He was fuming, "It's a boy?"

"No, you got a girl, remember," he did not think it was funny, "Dad, I have been meeting him for a while. Since I was eleven actually, and it is perfectly fine. He already knew about Shadowhunters, and Alicante, and he is actually a really good listener." Look at me sticking up for Jon, he would be so proud. He would be furious that I was telling someone about him, when I swore to keep my mouth shut for eternity.

Oh please Jon, have mercy on me.

"Is that supposed to make it better?"

"No, but it was innocent dad. We are friends." I was lying through my teeth, and he was too furious to get over the fact that it was a boy, which surprised me since I thought he would be more worried about the Clave knowing.

Apparently it only mattered if he knew.

"Why have you been keeping this from me? I could have stopped this dire situation before it ever took hold in our lives. How can you keep this a secret for so long?"

Is he kidding me, "Why were you keeping this from me," I pointed between me and him, and his forehead creased, "you are sounding a little hypocritical to me."

"I was doing it to protect you," he said.

"From what?"

"From everyone," he shouted.

He was standing now his green skin hued with red, and I couldn't help but go on the defensive.

"I can take care of myself," my voice rose, "I am of age now."

He crossed his arms, "Then why do you insistently choose acts that prove otherwise. Going against the Clave, vandalism, breaking and entering, brawling with Aline Penhallow, secret rendezvous with that Ravenkey boy, and to top it all off you are meeting with some secret Nephilium boy," I smirked at that, "that has jeopardized your safety in a way that I cannot protect you from, or pay for. Do I need to go on?"

I smacked my lips, "you are just like Amatis! Stop controlling me!"

"She is trying to protect you too. What will she do when she hears this. I should call her."

"No," that would only make it worse, way worse, "I never asked you both to protect me. I can take care of myself now if it is such a huge problem," I could even tell how childish I sounded, but my pride was wounded.

"Have some sense Sera; you wouldn't last two days alone in the mundane world."

I indicated to Duma, "As I said, I can take care of it."

He gave a brief laugh, "You can't protect yourself when you are the perpetrator to your own troubles. You have the emotional stability of someone half your age, and your selfish antics rule your every decision. How can someone have trust in that?" he breathed deeply, "There may come a day when you change, but I highly doubt it would be any day soon."

"Then I will be out of your hair," I pushed off the chair stalking towards the door, "I would hate to cause you any more trouble with my selfishness," the door was already in reach when his voice rose louder than I had ever heard.

"SERAPHINA!" I flinched at the sound.

"Stop right there Seraphina," he used my full name. He was furious for sure.

I turned around, and he pointed at my seat, "sit down, we aren't done."

I stomped my feet back to my seat, and sat down like a petulant child. There was a part of me that wished this would happen, and my cheeks flushed in shame for my manipulative nature. At the back of my mind I knew he was right, though I would never say it outright.

I was tired of fighting or arguing. Instead of making this even worse, I sat in silence hoping that he would get on it, so that I could deal with the Clave, and then maybe go for an extended vacation, indefinitely. If the Clave didn't banish me, that is.

He put his face in his hands, "Do the sins of our fathers have to affect us, and follow us wherever we go?"

"I wouldn't know," I murmured feeling hateful, "I never knew my real father," this all felt too surreal, maybe tomorrow I would understand this, but now I felt numb.

His voice was tentative, "Do you want to?"

My breath caught in my throat.

DUn...Dun...dun...dun!

Cliffhanger!

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from the sunny beaches,

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