“Well, um, I got pregnant. Pretty quickly actually, and, well, I know you know about it from the letter, but it’s still hard to say. He had three daughters already. They were all so precious to him. I mean he worshipped them. Their mother was his Protector. You know how they are, they get that one person who is sort of like a mate to them and they stay together forever. He loved her. They don’t have to love their Protector but he did—so much.”

Abbigail turned her head to stare at a green metal shelf that held cardboard boxes, stacks of printer paper, more paperwork, and a bunch of her mother’s witchcraft knickknacks. She tried to focus on the paper she saw and to read the words there, but it didn’t distract her enough. She couldn’t remove herself from this situation because she needed to hear this. She just didn’t want to, not really.

“I was afraid. I knew that I could never compete with that. He never actually said it but we spent many years together, and he never asked for us to move in. He never asked to see you. He never wanted to marry me. After his wife went missing, he never stopped looking for her. I’m sorry Abby, but we were always the outsiders.”

Abbigail finally turned to look at her mother. She had her head buried in two hands and her shoulders were sagging forward. She looked much older at that moment. Her mother looked at her with wet, sad eyes, and a frown.

“I was always second. I had no choice but to be that. I didn’t...I couldn’t...” she scrubbed her hands over her face and shook her head as if to get rid of a bad thought. “I’m sure I was wrong, but it’s like...he was holding back something from me so I...so I...”

Oh my god. So that was it, Abby thought. “He held back part of himself from you, so you kept me from him. Talk about petty, mom.”

Anger sliced in her mother’s eyes. “It wasn’t quite like that. He never pushed to see you at all. I’m not the only one who’s petty, or who’s made mistakes. At least I sent him pictures.”

Her mother’s words hit home just as she wanted to. She’d never become a practicing witch like her mother wanted her to. She’d never carry on her mother’s legacy, and yes she actually had a bit of one. And yes she did it just to spite her mother.

“Yeah, I guess we’re both petty, mom.”

Abby stood up, but couldn’t meet her mother’s eyes. Her mother started to say something, but the phone in Abby’s pocked buzzed.

She took it out and answered it.

“Yeah?” she said. “Got it.” She closed the phone and pocketed it. “I gotta go. A case.”

She left her mother in silence and rushed out to her car. That was good. For the best. She loved her mom no matter what and all of this would have been different if only her mom had told her who her father was. She didn’t deserve to find out in a fancy letter written by a dead man.

Warm air had gathered in the car, and it suffocated her in its heat. She started the engine then rolled down the windows to let in some cooler air. The breeze made her sigh as the tight muscles in her back relax. But no matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t keep from crying.

Night set by the time Abby got home from the lab. The dead shapeshifter case was going to be a hard one for detectives since they had no witnesses. Either that or anyone who witnessed the crime wasn’t coming forward. Some people get scared in situations like this and don’t want to come forward. It could be to their benefit or demise in cases where they recognized the killer. The knife used to commit the murder still hadn’t been found and until all the blood and evidence was processed, nothing could be done. It was a waiting game until they got another hit.

“What a day,” Abby said as she unlocked her front door and stepped into her house. It wasn’t really her house; just a rental but she loved it all the same. It had three bedrooms, two baths, and a single-car garage to boot. Going from college dorms to the small apartment she shared with her friend Jenna after college to this was like hitting the lottery.

Her stomach growled. She hadn’t eaten since breakfast that morning but her body was so tired she just wanted to pass out and not wake up for a week. She couldn’t do that though, nope. She had to face her problems. She needed to contact her step-sisters.

She wondered: what would they think of her? Would they like her, accept her? She doubted it. She couldn’t say she’d be so agreeable to accept a step-sibling that she didn’t know about until now. Still, she had to try. As soon as she got some sleep she’d do some research and find some addresses. A spark of hope filled her that maybe, just maybe, they’d be wonderful. She’d only ever had her mom and no one else. She’d had friends but that wasn’t the same as family. Jenna was always there if she needed her, but they weren’t as close as they’d been while in college.

Abby set her lab bag on the kitchen table, snagged a yogurt out of the fridge and spoon from the kitchen drawer, and then headed to the bedroom. She needed to get a pet, a cat or maybe a dog. Something so the house wouldn’t feel so empty every time she got home.

She scrubbed her face and changed into her pajamas as she finished her yogurt and tossed it into the trash bin. She’d just pulled down the comforter, ready to let her exhausted bones rest, when a bang came at a door.

Not a knock, a bang.

She jumped, her heart starting a fierce pounding beat in her chest. Her hand went to her chest, and her eyes flew wide open. She checked the clock: ten o’clock. Who the hell would be banging on her door like that? That sounded like the knocking SWAT officers used before breaking down the door when they had a search warrant.

Getting control of herself, Abby opened her nightstand drawer and pulled out her gun. She had a permit for it and she knew how to shoot. The banging persisted. BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! It never relented, never paused.

Abby crept down the hall on the balls of her feet as her heart thundered in time to the knocking. She kept her thumb over the safety on her gun, ready at a moment’s notice to flick it off and use it.

Just as she reached the door, the banging stopped. She froze, straining to hear something. No whisper of breath, no sound of movement; she only heard the cacophonous thud of her own heartbeat. She breathed as quietly as she could as she tried to slow her racing heart. She was glad the lights were off in the house. Maybe whoever was there would assume she wasn’t home and leave.

Then the banging came again, this time even harder. She flinched, her hand tightening around her gun warming the cool metal as the door shook in its sturdy frame. God, whoever it was must be strong. She wished like hell she had a peephole or even a window at the door but she had neither. The nearest front window only showed as much as the driveway. The front of the house blocked the doorway from view.

Only a door stood between her and the person knocking.

BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM! BAM!

Finally finding her voice, she called out in a hard voice, “Who’s there?” Well, she’d tried for a stern voice but it still came out sounding scared, alert.

The knocking stopped as if it never happened. Only a resounding echo and her racing heart showed she wasn’t crazy.

She heard a muffled voice, deep, unintelligible.

“What?” she said, yelling louder through the door. She wasn’t stupid enough to open it. Hell no. Her thumb traced over the small safety lever on the gun, itching to release it.

“Abbigail Krenshaw,” the deep voice said.

Her stomach fell to her knees. Fuck, what did she do now? Somehow this man, it was definitely a masculine voice, knew her name and that scared the shit out of her. She looked around, feeling as if dozens of eyes were watching her but she didn’t find any. Only her empty dark house stared back at her. The green clock from the kitchen stove still lit the kitchen up in a dim glow and nightlights in the hallway and living room were dim but showed enough light to see that no one waited to jump her.