Suzanne McLeod - The Bitter Seed of Magic

‘When were you going to tell me about your child, Finn?’ I said, forcing my voice into calmness. ‘The one you fathered with Helen? After all, it’s not like we’ve known each other very long, right? I mean it’s only been—what? Ten fucking months?’ Okay, so maybe I wasn’t as calm as I could be. ‘And it’s not like we don’t work together on a daily basis or anything, is it, Finn? Or that we didn’t talk about you having kids with Helen only yesterday, did we ?’

He let out a breath and pushed his hands through his hair, his moss-green eyes sombre and, oddly, filled with something that looked more like relief than guilt at being caught out.

‘I’m sorry, Gen. I really didn’t want you to find out from someone else,’ he said quietly.

‘Then why didn’t you tell me yourself?’ I demanded. ‘Or did you think maybe you’d just wait until I gave birth before introducing me to my future child’s brother?’

‘Sister,’ he said.

‘ What? ’

‘Helen and I have a daughter. Her name is Nicola.’

I stared at him in disbelief, my anger momentarily forgotten in the face of something that went against everything about fae ‘facts of life’ I’d had drummed into me by Grianne. ‘That’s just not possible. Witches always have sons—faelings—if the dad is a lesser fae. That’s the way the magic works.’

‘Why do you think I was chosen to court you, Gen?’ Finn said, an old note of resignation in his voice. ‘My daughter might be faeling, but she’s the nearest to a full-blood fae born in the last century. If I didn’t know different, even I’d say she was satyr, and that Helen couldn’t possibly be her mother. But I know she is. I watched Nicky being born. I know it’s not supposed to happen. Hell’s thorns, Helen shouldn’t have been able to get pregnant anyway! Most ninth-generation witches never have more than one child, and we weren’t even taking part in the fertility rite proper; we just ended up fooling around nearby.’ Faint colour stained his angular cheekbones. ‘The witches’ rites get a bit wild at times,’ he said more quietly. ‘You know how it is.’

I didn’t, never having been to one. I wasn’t sure I wanted to, either.

‘Of course, once we both realised, we were thrilled. We jumped the broom.’ He paused. ‘We broke up when Nicky was nine, but we’ve always stayed friends.’ Because of Nicky. He didn’t say it, but it was as obvious as the worried look on his face. And, of course he was too much of a good guy not to stay friends with his daughter’s mother— that explained why Helen was his number one speed-dial . My heart did its little leap again. Even if his comment about ‘fooling around’ meant Nicky’s advent hadn’t been planned. Although, if it wasn’t for what he’d said about Helen being a ninth-generation witch, I’d have bet money she’d trapped him. The thoughts kept a lid on my anger.

‘Why didn’t you tell me about Nicky?’ I asked.

He gave me a rueful look. ‘I couldn’t, Gen.’ He shook his head as he saw my questioning look. ‘No, not a magical gag, but I gave my word to Helen that I wouldn’t speak of Nicky to you unless you specifically asked me if she and I had kids. This was before I met you.’

He’d given his word. Fae don’t give or break their word lightly; the magic demands too great a price. My anger redirected itself at Helen. She’d been determined to put a spoke in mine and Finn’s relationship wheel from the beginning … except she hadn’t known me.

I frowned at him. ‘Why would she make you promise something like that?’

‘Helen’s always been … conflicted about the sidhe,’ he said, leaning forwards. ‘It stems from a problem with her father. For some reason he visited. Most of them don’t.’

Right. Witches were the ultimate single parents by necessity. Sidhe dads don’t stick around much after the fertility rites, which isn’t such a wonderful endorsement for the male of my species, but it’s not like the covens haven’t been encouraging the sidhe to keep coming back for centuries, so it wasn’t all one-sided. But it sounded like Helen’s sidhe father was an exception and, sadly, not a good one. I sighed. I so didn’t want to start feeling sorry for her again.

‘She had a good relationship with him,’ Finn said, as if he’d heard my thoughts, ‘but then when Helen was eight, her mother fostered a little girl: a relative of her father’s.’ He paused. ‘A sidhe. The two girls were the same age and became great friends, even thought of each other as sisters most of the time, except whenever Helen’s father visited after that, he was more concerned with the sidhe, and’—his mouth tightened with disgust—‘he virtually ignored Helen, his own daughter.’

I stared at him, remembering the family tree and the horrific story the Librarian and Sylvia had told me, and pieces of the puzzle dropped into the bigger picture. ‘Helen’s foster sister was Brigitta, wasn’t she? The one whose mother’—Angel—‘was kidnapped and raped by the Old Donn? And you all insisted on keeping Brigitta in London when her mother was sent back to the Fair Lands because you all wanted to breed from her to break the curse, just like you do me,’ I added accusingly. ‘Brigitta’s father was the fossegrim. Her daughter is a faeling called Ana’—I waved at the privacy screen between us and the front of the limo—‘and she’s married to my solicitor’s son.’

He stilled, and scrubbed a hand over his face. ‘Yeah, that’s her, but I didn’t think you knew the story.’

I laughed: it wasn’t happy. ‘Seems like everyone I talk to just now has something new to tell me about the curse.’

‘But then, you haven’t really talked to anyone about it before, have you, Gen?’ he said, a hint of reproach in his words. ‘So it’s only natural now you’re asking, that you’re going to hear about all the sordid stuff that no one usually mentions.’

He could say that again. I pursed my lips. ‘So Helen doesn’t like any sidhe because her father ignored her when she was a kid, and I’m the one who ends up as her whipping girl.’

‘It wasn’t just that. The sidhe took Helen’s son for a changeling, remember. When that happened, her feelings understandably worsened. Then things got difficult when Tavish’s list came out. When Nicky found out that I was going to be courting you, she got really excited and was desperate to meet you. Helen was … well, she got very upset about it all. I think she was frightened that after the sidhe took her son, you would try and steal her other child from her.’

I had this vision of a miniature Helen, only with cute little horns and pigtails, jumping up and down on her tiny hooves, then being sent to her room. Poor Nicky. It didn’t sound like having Helen as a mum was much fun. But then, maybe I was biased. Not to mention, ‘very upset’ sounded more like paranoia.

‘I know it’s irrational,’ Finn said, again in tune with my own thoughts, ‘but Helen can be very insecure at times. So in the end I promised not to tell you anything about Nicky unless you asked. I always thought you would, but you never did.’

It had never crossed my mind … which in itself was kind of odd, now I thought about it, but then other people’s family were hard to chat about when you were trying to keep your own family a secret. I stared blindly at the rest of the traffic inching along out of the blacked-out window. Finn had given his word, so he couldn’t have broken it, but there were ways round that (now I thought about it, Ricou and Sylvia’s little act in my kitchen had been exactly that). But having met Helen and been on the sharp end of her jealousy, and now knowing her background, I could see why Finn had kept his daughter a secret—well, not so much a secret, just not mentioned her up until now. My initial anger and shock was dampened by a mix of reluctant pity and sadness for Helen, and sympathy for both Finn and his daughter.