Autumn Storm (The Witchling #2)(6)

Decker couldn’t imagine fathering children and sharing his curse with them. He’d figured out how to use his magick to act as a contraceptive. The women he took to bed had no names or faces he’d recognize the next morning, not with the Darkness and drugs in his system. They definitely weren’t going to produce his children. If only Summer …

He pushed the thought away. No, producing twins to takeover Light and Dark duties when they turned eighteen was something Beck would have to do. Decker didn’t doubt his brother would.

“I’m guessing Dawn’s kid isn’t Beck’s,” he murmured. “I shouldn’t have walked away from that.”

“It’s probably his kid,” his father replied. “Not twins, though, or you’d be dead.” Always calm, Michael was gazing at him.

Decker stared at the table. “I take it that whole … issue isn’t going away.”

“They dropped the restraining order when we threatened to press charges for statutory rape. She was nineteen and he was seventeen at the time of conception.” Michael shook his head. “He’s back in school. They’re playing hardball, though. If the DNA test comes back with him as the father, I’ll have to agree to set up a trust fund to keep them from taking Beck to court.”

“Beck, you fool,” Decker said with a sigh. As much as he worked to divorce himself from the rest of his world, he couldn’t help mentally lecturing his brother one more time. Knowing his twin was probably in distress about the whole Dawn issue brought out the instincts of a reluctantly protective brother.

“He’s learning,” Grandpa Louis said. “He’s grown up a lot this fall.”

“They both have,” Michael agreed. “We’ll get through it.”

“How are you holding up, Decker?” Grandpa Louis asked.

“Still alive,” Decker replied wryly.

“I lost your grandmother seven years ago. I don’t know how you’re handling it alone.” There was sorrow in Grandpa Louis’s old voice. “That’s why I follow your mother around the world. I lost my wife. One of our children remains missing. I’ll take care of the family I have left.”

Decker studied him. He didn’t want to end up like Grandpa Louis, mourning for the rest of his life. He didn’t want to be like his mother, either, who caused so much pain to those she loved. Grandpa Louis had no idea his own daughter was the source of half his pain, for she’d killed her twin, Nora. She’d hidden what she was from her father and children for eighteen years.

Decker couldn’t bear to keep such secrets from those he loved. He didn’t know how his mother spent every day with her father and let him believe Nora was missing, not dead. Decker wanted nothing to do with hurting Beck or his parents. Once the Darkness took him, he’d never have to worry about hurting anyone.

You will save your family this kind of pain. Bartholomew said in approval.

Feeling his father’s gaze again, Decker sensed Michael knew about Nora’s death, too. It was the nature of the bond between his parents, the ability for the mates of a Dark Mistress or Master to accept the truth about their mates. He’d never have a mate, now that Summer was dead.

“How do you get through it?” he asked Grandpa Louis.

His grandfather set the cards he held on the table and reached into the pocket of his robe. He pulled out an ancient, yellowing photograph with dog-eared corners and held it out. Decker took it.

“You never really do,” his grandfather said. “I look at that a few times a day to remember the good times.”

The picture was of Grandpa Louis, his wife and twin girls. Decker’s mother was a teenager around sixteen with her arms wrapped around her sister’s shoulders. They both wore bathing suits and cheesy smiles, standing on the beach in front of their parents. Grandma Aziza was enigmatic, radiating the dark allure that characterized the Masters and Mistresses of Dark. Of Egyptian descent, her daughters inherited her straight hair and large eyes, while their dark skin came from their African-American father.

I’m a mutt, Decker thought, mind going to his father, a full-blood Native American. Decker’s amusement faded. The sight of his mother before she became the Mistress of Dark was painful for him. She was happy, innocent, free. When the picture was taken, she had no idea she’d kill her sister in a couple of years.

“At some point, you will understand,” Grandpa Louis said. The skin around his eyes was soft as he gazed tenderly at the photograph. “You’ll tell yourself: Summer is dead. You are not. You have a tomorrow to think about and people who love you. You’ll start to live for them at first and eventually, you heal and live for yourself.”

Decker’s throat tightened at the honest words. He wished it was true for him. Would Grandpa Louis feel the same if he knew the fate of Nora?

No, there was no such healing for a Master of Dark. The Darkness was too strong, the secrets too painful. He was a hazard to those he loved. If he couldn’t heal, his family would, when he was gone.

It was best for all of them.

Keep feeding the Dark, Bartholomew advised.

The mental slap of a soul going bad hit him. Decker had never been so relieved at the thought of running off to kill someone. After Summer’s death, he’d decided no one got a second chance, if she didn’t. He handed the photo back.