TW: Violence and death. 

I hastily wiped my stained cheek. "I could have gone with you," I muttered. "You could have taught me magic and I know how to control the spirits in my head." I never liked running but if it meant I could stay by my father's side, I would have run across the world for him.

"No." He said sternly. "If you came with me and if they found you, they would have killed you. And I would have—I would have—" He shakes his head as if he is trying to get rid of a nightmare.

A silence passes over us until I finally say, "Teach me magic." It feels as though I'm a little girl asking how to ride a bike.

My father looks surprised but he recovers quickly. "You said your first word before you could crawl but the moment you crawled, you wanted to walk. You have always been eager. Always wanting to take the world by a reckoning force. You're a lot like your mother in that way." His eyes brimmed. "You're a fast learner. I could teach you."

I brushed off the comment about Mom because I could never grasp the world or anything revolving inside of it. "My magic is..." My mind scattered as I tried to settle for the right word to describe it. "Erratic?" I said full of doubt.

I know how magic is supposed to look. Whenever Dilara performs her magic, it's like a river flowing. Calm and natural. She moves her hands and her fingers in perfect strokes of a brush. The world is her canvas and she is painting it. She has control. But whenever I use my magic and cast a spell it works fine until it decides it feels like I'm being threatened. It surges like suffocating armor but it fits my body. I'm struggling for control.

My father's smile widens. The old man's look crumbles a bit as the weight on his shoulders eases. His eyes shimmer but I can't tell if they're threatening tears or a hopeful gleam. "Your magic is not erratic but I'm partly to blame for your magic. My tia Elvira cloaked your magic and made it dormant. Magic such as yours should never be put to sleep for so long. It only festers inside, growing but it's not as strong because you haven't used it. All witches and warlocks, their magic is tied to their being. It is like another part of you that needs to breathe." Is that why it's so hard to breathe? "True magic, real magic should never be controlled. Magic should be grown even with its rotten parts. But what courses through your veins is all dark magic and that is untethered power. You're limitless."

I frowned. "I don't feel limitless—"

"No, you're limitless. When I perform dark magic I feel limitless like a drug I can't get enough of but imagine yourself born with the drug in your system." Still, I asked, "But how? How is that possible? Shouldn't dark magic corrupt my soul? How is your soul not corrupted?"

He nods his head, agreeing. "Dark magic does have its consequences but they're subgenres in the dark arts that do not completely poison your soul. Demonology is one of them. Evil spirits invade human souls and to counter it, you must use dark magic. Abomination versus abomination has an equal footing. The basics of magic when performing a spell is all about intent. Even the simplest ones can cause disasters and harm. Dark magic is stronger because the intent of it is set. When dealing with evil spirits in the human body it's about separation. Detach the intent of hurting the human, banish the evil."

I guess it sort of made sense but he didn't mention the consequence of using this art form. "What's the price you paid for using dark magic?" I asked.

"The moon can't shine without the dark. But I need her light to keep me from succumbing into the darkness." 

He then explained. "I'm sure you know the significance of what a quinceanera means in our culture but my family had a different approach to this tradition. We call it 'La Noche del Quince'. It is a night celebration and ritual for a warlock or witch who is turning fifteen. We usually do it on a full moon as the warlock or witch prepares themselves to be merged with the Moon. It's an oath that needs to be bound from the moment we are born. In the ritual, our magic becomes tied to the Moon. It's how we can travel through the night without fear. My vow to the Moon sometimes protects me from the full viciousness of dark magic."

He still didn't want to tell me whether dark magic had poisoned him, but I lingered over his family tradition. 'La Noche del Quince' sounded nostalgic and memorable. I wonder what it would be like but I am past the age of fifteen and they would be no one to celebrate it with.

"We could do it." My father said, receiving my full attention. "You could bind yourself to the Moon. It could help you balance your magic."

"Wouldn't it be too late? I'm not fifteen." I asked with a hint of hope.

He shakes his head. "You wear the mark of the Moon, you're her child. She'll embrace you."

Nervousness chewed my inside but maybe there was a bit of giddiness swimming and it didn't feel nauseating. I wanted this, I needed this, and more importantly, I could have it. I looked at my father as I was about to speak when a sharp cry punctured my head. I clutched my head.

A bell is a bell. It must be rung. They cried in a chorus.

My father quickly came over to my side and touched my hands. "Let them speak." He said gently, "No pasa nada, pequeña. Don't think of them as enemies. This is a flaw, it's your flaw and a human one. They make you feel."

I met his gaze, he looked worried but he wasn't afraid. If Refugio was here, she would give me distance until I calmed down. Although it pained her it was for the best. My father kept a steady gaze on me and his warmth was too much, my heart squeezed. Is this what he had done for my mother?

I closed my eyes, "Mind. Body. Soul." I said in Irish. "I am one," I repeated until the spirits felt like a ghostly presence, invisible but watchful.

"A bell is a bell. It must be rung." I finally told him.

All easiness was erased from him as the gears inside his mind began to work. His gaze looked back and forth from wall to wall until they landed on the curtain we entered. He looked at it for a minute until he turned to me, "Take the duffle bag. You need to leave now." I blinked as my father stood up and shoved the dagger into the duffle bag and zipped it. I got up from the chair as my heart started to beat frantically.

"What? What do you mean? It could probably be a customer outside." I said as he dropped the duffle bag into my arms. I staggered a bit as the heaviness set in. "What's in here? Rocks?"

"Books." He responded as he tossed the books on the floor to the side as if he was searching for something. "If there was a customer. The bell would've rung. When we entered the store, the bell should have rung, but it didn't." Anger crept into his voice.

I slung the duffle bag over my body. My father found the book he was searching for, so he handed it to me. I glanced down at the title 'Espiritus en La Noche.' My brows furrowed.

"Keep it safe for me. Come on, let's go." He said as he calmly pushed through the curtain. I trailed after him. I saw Dilara actively having a conversation with Don Emmanuel, she had a bundle of items in her hands. She wasn't hurt or scared. She was fine, a relief washed through me.

Don Emmanuel's gaze turned to my father, "Finished? I have a big bill for you." He chuckled.

Dilara's eyes widened. "Oh no, I can pay you." She shifted her body as she tried to reach into her pocket. I stepped away from my father, watching his hands clenched and unclenched. "Dilara, mija could you..." He raised two fingers. Dilara looked between my father and me until I tilted my chin to my side. She immediately moved her feet, still trying to balance the bottles of medicine in her arms.

I unzipped the duffle bag as she stood next to me. "What the hell is going on?" She whispered, dumping all the goods.

"Nicolás, what is this? Que pasa?" Don Emmanuel calmly said but I saw the sweat above his brow.

My father took a step forward. "What happened to your bell?" Don Emmanuel's gaze turned to his door and then back to him. "It broke." He replied, but even he couldn't believe his own words.

Another step forward. "I gave you that bell in Mexico and you brought it here with you because you believe it was good fortune. Little did you know I enchanted that bell to never break but it can break if another witch disarms it." My father said coldly.

Don Emmanuel fumbled pushing his glasses upwards and pushing himself away from the glass cabinet. "They came here yesterday. They know you're here. They said if I don't tell them where you are they'll kill my family. Nosotros no somos brujos como tú. Family over friendship, you understand."

My father's steps came to a halt. "I understand except you've now endangered my family. My daughter." He spread his arms as a sudden brute force of a phantom wind rattled the store. The lights flickered and statues on shelves dropped. Dilara and I exchanged a quick look. We moved away from my father. She grabs my hand and I squeeze hers.

"Say it with me. Tegere." Dilara said, and I did. And a surge of power pumps in my veins and bursts out but connects with another, I know it's Dilara magic. They weave themselves together creating a strong enough barrier to block my father's destructive magic.

I could still hear him and Don Emmanuel from this bubble of protection. Don Emmanuel has fear in his eyes. "You have no family. You told me your family was dead! What's the point of saving your child if she is already dead? She won't live long. You know that you know that." He cries.

"Callate o te arranco la lengua!" I'm slightly startled by the harshness in his voice. My father's shoulders rise up and down, he lifts his hands turning his palms upwards and I hear him chanting a few Latin words. The room brings out the hidden sigils and symbols from the walls. I could feel the power radiating from them and him. (Shut up or I'll tear your tongue out.)

Don Emmaunel's jaw unhinges. "You—you—Embrujaste mi—"

"Una precaución. But I never thought you would betray me." The vengeful warlock I heard about was now present. "I will be quick." Don Emmaunel's clawed for anything behind him but they would be useless against my father. He was a dead man in my father's eyes. Don Emmanuel braced himself for what was coming.

My father raised his hands. "Fuiste mi amigo por tantos años. Te traje a este país sin aceptar tu dinero. Te ayude como si fueras un hermano." The sigils and symbols dulled. "Let's meet again without our burdens."

Tears streaked down Don Emmanuel's cheek. "My family—" He croaked.

"Out of harm." My father promised and Don Emmanuel accepted his fate as he closed his eyes. My father twisted his hands as the sound of a snapped bone echoed inside the store. Dilara flinched and tightly held my hand. Don Emmanuel's body collapsed to the ground. My father lowered his hands and hung his head in shame.

I brought my hand up, letting the barrier fall. My hand reaches for my father's shoulder but he must have sensed me because he said, "Leave. They're coming. You have seen enough. I don't want you to see me like this. Please, go."

Dilara gently tugged my hand. "We need to go. It's not safe here anymore." She said shakily.

I looked at my father's back one more time. "When will I see you again?"

"The next full moon. We'll do the ritual then." I didn't know from the top of my head when the next full moon was but I just hoped he was telling the truth. Please, don't lie to me. Please, don't let me be alone anymore.

Dilara pulled my hand toward the door. I forcibly dragged my feet across the room but I couldn't leave my father. Not without saying one more thing.

"Por favor," I met his brown eyes. "Cuidate." (Please, take care of yourself.)

He forced a smile. "Tú también."

And I looked away as Dilara pushed us through the door and we set off running through the ghost street. Tears flowed out of my eyes as the image of my father and Don Emmanuel seared my mind. I needed to do better, I have to do better. For him, for Mom, for Matias, for my family.

For myself.

Dilara cut across the street and set us in the direction of an alley, but as came to the end of the alley there was a black sleek car parked. The car door opened and Dilara slammed her heels on the cement. She brought her hands and murmured the spell for fire as two spheres of blazing fire danced at her palms. I try to catch my breath, preparing myself for a scream.

Only it was Ivy with her skull belt sitting in the middle of her black coat and tight ponytail. Her gaze narrowed until she glanced over toward Dilara, raising a brow at her fire. "Put it out or you might burn yourself first."

But the fire in Dilara's palm grew bigger. I touched her shoulder. "I know her." Dilara's brows pinched together and then Ivy changed the color of her eyes. Dilara fused the fire as her hands formed a clenched fist.

"What are you doing here?" I said still out of breath.

Ivy marched forward like a soldier. "You're no longer safe in your apartment. A group of witches and warlocks found you where you live. You must get the car so I can take you somewhere safe." I didn't miss the bitterness or disgust when she said 'witches and warlocks'. She looked over at Dilara. "It's best if you come along too. If you're with her then you're not safe either."

I tugged the duffle bag. "What are you talking about? I can't just leave my apartment. I have things—"

"We recovered what we could." She said monotonously.

"Recovered?" I questioned.

Her jaw tightened. "Get in the car, Crier. I don't have time to explain. I have other business to attend to." It's been a long day and I couldn't deal with her dislikement toward me. Where the hell was Grimm?

"Where is he?" I demanded.

Ivy's crimson eyes become more vivid. "The King has other priorities. He has responsibilities unlike some. He has other invaluable assets." I was getting tired of her glare and her stupidly red-glowing eyes. 

I took a step forward and leveled her gaze. "I am the King's most invaluable asset right now. You bring him to me before I call him." I lowered my chin speaking to her, and only her. "Fire might not kill you but I can make you the first deaf demon." Her eyes widened.

She took a step forward. "Witch." She bared her teeth. "You might be invaluable today but one day he won't need you anymore." Her dislikement toward me had nothing to do with Grimm, I knew it but I just couldn't find it in me to care what her problem was with me. I also didn't have time for her bullshit.

Dilara grasped my arm before I could do anything. "Let's just get in the car. Save this argument for another day. We are not safe out in the open." Her honey eyes pleaded with mine.

I narrowed my gaze at Ivy. "Fine." I could ignore her and pretend she is my chauffeur. Yes, I like that much better. I moved past her and Ivy inhaled sharply. Dilara and I reluctantly got in the car. I leaned into the headrest as I thought about the things I needed to do. I also wanted to talk to Dilara and tell her everything because I didn't trust Ivy. She was loyal to her King and I didn't want Grimm to hear what I wanted to tell him from her. Were all demons loyal to him? I brushed the thought away.

The first thing I was going to do once we reached a safe house was get rid of my poltergeist.