Adventures in an alternate dimension Book 2

Chapter 41 - Whispers in the Dark

Ashlynn's POV

The phone vibrated on the nightstand, the caller ID flashing with Jackson's name. It wasn't unusual for him to call, but the late hour sent a jolt through me. At 23, I didn't technically age, a perk – or maybe a curse – of being a witch-vampire hybrid. Jackson, however, was a solid 29 now, flecks of gray already invading his temples.

"Hey, Jack," I answered, pushing myself up in bed.

"Ash," his voice was strained, a hitch in his usually easygoing tone. "Can we talk?"

There was something off. The playful banter we usually fell into was missing, replaced by a heavy silence that stretched between us.

"Sure," I said, the playful lilt gone from my voice to match his. "What's up?"

"This might be a lot to unpack," he started, then stopped. I could practically hear him running a hand through his hair, a nervous habit from childhood.

"Just spit it out, Jackson," I urged gently. We'd always been close, an unspoken pact formed in the face of our parents' volatile relationship. After their messy divorce when I was 19, that closeness had become a lifeline, our late-night calls a source of comfort in the storm.

He took a shaky breath. "It's about mom and dad."

My stomach clenched. It had been four years since I'd spoken to either of them. The last call, a tirade of accusations hurled at me for being a freak, an abomination, still echoed in my nightmares.

"What about them?" I forced the words out, my voice tight.

"There's something they never told you," Jackson continued, his voice low. "Something they kept hidden."

A cold dread seeped into my bones. Secrets were the landmines of our family, buried just beneath the surface of seemingly normal lives.

"What kind of secret, Jackson?"

There was another long pause, then a choked sob escaped the phone. My breath hitched. I'd never heard Jackson cry.

"Ash," he finally managed, his voice thick with emotion, "they didn't disown you because you're different."

Confusion bloomed in my chest, tangled with a sliver of hope. "Then why? You said they hated what I was."

"No, Ash, no," he said fiercely. "They loved you. They were scared, Ash. Terrified."

"Scared of what?" My voice trembled slightly.

"Of who your father really was," he whispered.

The world seemed to tilt on its axis. My father, the man who used to bring home stale jokes and burnt toast after long shifts as a mechanic, who was who?

"What do you mean?" The question came out a strangled gasp.

"He wasn't human, Ashlynn," Jackson said, his voice barely a whisper. "He was..." He trailed off.

"Was what?" I demanded the need to know clawing at me.

Another pause, heavy with unspoken words. "A Shadowmancer," he finally choked out.

"A Shadowmancer?" My voice echoed in the empty room, the unfamiliar word bouncing off the walls. It sounded like something out of a fantasy novel, not a description of my father.

"Yeah," Jackson sighed, the sound heavy with years of unspoken truth. "They weren't wrong to be scared, Ash. Shadowmancers are powerful beings, feared by witches and humans alike. They manipulate shadows, darkness itself. It's... not exactly a walk in the park."

My mind raced, trying to reconcile the gentle, slightly clumsy man I remembered with this terrifying image. "But why wouldn't they tell me? Why keep it a secret all these years?"