Free Hush (Witches & Warlocks Book 2) by R. M. Webb Page B

why’s and the how’s of it, you know get to the root of the matter. Just ignoring it, pushing it down, all that does it let it fester and grow. Like giving anti-depressants to someone who just needs to talk about what’s bothering them. I swear, I only did it in an attempt to try to get better. To try to be the kind of witch you want me to be.” Daya’s got all kinds of thoughts flashing across her face and I think I’m saying things that make sense to her. “I wonder, if you brought a dark witch in to teach me, if it might not make this whole thing easier.”
    A big wall slides down over her face, hiding all her thoughts. “No. We’ve tried something like that before,” she can’t help but let her eyes flick over to Noah and I know she’s talking about the ranch, “and it didn’t work out well.”
    I take a breath. “Daya, if the people who raised me aren’t my birth parents, then who are my real parents?” She’s stunned by the question, as is Noah, judging by his sharp intake of breath. “And what are you guys doing to find out who had me all hidden and locked up inside myself? Am I just supposed to take all of this at face value and move forward without ever knowing why?”
    Daya shakes her head. “I’m afraid you can’t know the answers to those questions.”
    “You mean the answers to questions about me ? I don’t get to know where I came from or why I’m important enough to be part of some crazy conspiracy? Cause that’s what this is. If I wasn’t important, whoever had me hidden would have just had me killed instead.”
    Daya leans forward and crosses her elbows on the desk in front of her. Do I tell her that I know about the ranch? How it went horribly wrong? Would Noah get in trouble if I know? I’m so tired of games I just don’t know what to do. I just want to be out with it and done with it and call it a day so we can all move on and I can figure out what the hell I am.
    “Something tells me that you already know the answers to some of those questions.” Daya sits back into her chair and it creaks under her weight. I start to stammer a reply but Daya continues. “It’s ok. Noah won’t get in any trouble for telling you. If I really wanted him silent on the matter, he would have been silent on the matter.” She flares her fingers and stares down at the space between her hands, her mouth open and her breath held as if she’s considering her next words very seriously. “Your mother was Tara Archer, a white witch,” her eyes go distant “maybe the strongest white witch I’ve had the pleasure of meeting. You father was Malichi Dalton, with a very strange blend of dark magic. They were both quick witted and had the strange complexity of being in love despite their many differences. When Tara became pregnant with you, that’s when we had the idea to try to raise children who could cast both light and dark magic. Tara and Malichi disappeared before your birth and we assumed they were dead, and you with them. The implications of your,” she waves her hands through the air, looking for a word, “...captivity?” She nods, satisfied. “The implications are troubling to say the least. And no. You can’t know any more than that because I don’t know any more than that.”
    My lower lip is quivering and tears are blurring Daya into one great colorful mass. My parents are Tara and Malichi and yes, they were in love. I don’t know why the information has hit me this hard, so I swipe the tears from my eyes, trying to ignore the fact that they ever existed. My hands are gripping the arms of the chair, the knuckles turning white, tingling under the strain. That I can’t do anything about and leave them there until Noah reaches out and places his hand on top of mine. The contact, after weeks of nothing, sends a jolt through my system and I stare at him. He’s still withdrawn, but there’s a bit of the old warmth in his smile. I flip my hand up and grasp his, thankful when he gives me