When I said I wanted to find out about my dad, I thought at best he was the man that broke my mom’s heart, and at worst he was some backwoods swamp thing that she didn’t respect in the morning.. What I didn’t expect was that he was the grandson of an evil Celtic god and that being his daughter would bring me unwanted attention. I think I’ve got that taken care of. Hopefully. My dad proved himself to be unlike his nefarious grandfather, and since I have spent my entire life trying to be a good cop like my mom and actually fighting bad guys, you would think it would have been obvious that I wasn’t following in the footsteps of some psycho god I’d never heard of. Apparently it wasn’t obvious. These wizards pass judgement first and hold the trial later. I know cops like that. They’re not the good ones. But, like I say, hopefully that is taken care of and they can stop breathing down my neck. I am grateful for Molly, though, and informed Hunt he couldn’t have her back just because the White Council was cutting me some slack. Molly was in full BEAST mode at the time, so it’s no surprise she’s still with me. Hunt assured me that once given, Molly couldn’t be taken back. I’m mostly certain he would have said that even if she hadn’t been growling like a freight train.
I didn’t just inherit a bunch of paranoid wizards from my dad. I also got his magic spear, which is a little weird to say out loud, but mostly it’s just insanely cool. I’ve been practicing, and I’m nearly as good as I am with a gun, if I do say so myself. Which is good, because I thought the world was crazy enough when Hunt first told me about all this stuff, but since finding out about my dad? It’s just gotten crazier. So I’ve also been doing a lot of research. A. Lot. Sometimes with Hunt. Sometimes with Beaumont. (It’s still a little tense having both of them in the same room, so I try to keep them separate just so I don’t choke on all the testosterone. Two wizards in a pissing contest can get very interesting. And destructive. But it’s all good. I bought myself a new microwave and let them split the bill.) Anyway, I now know more about the Fomor, and other things that go bump in the night, than I’m sure I really want to. I just hope it’s enough.
Comments
That’s a sitcom I would watch: two rival wizards grudgingly teaming up to shop for a microwave—desperately trying not to blow up the entire JCPenney appliance department.