Fletcher stalked through the hallway, simmering in his rage and ignoring the two soldiers who stood guard outside the door. Probably the body guards for the oh-so-mighty General Anders.

  Who did Hazel think she was to order him around and send him off to become a soldier? It angered him to no end to think that she felt she had that kind of control over his life. His usual ability to find the good in any situation eluded him this time around. Having been bullied by Vi’le and the Unhumans into the Bren’it’p job had used up the last of his optimism for a while.

  He shoved his hands in his pockets, stewing in his emotions and refusing to admit his own screw up in leaving in such a fuss without considering that he had no idea where anything in this base was—like his room.

  But he wasn’t about to stop and ask for directions, so he kept walking, trusting that eventually he’d find his way there. As long as he stayed on this same floor, he couldn’t get that lost.

  Fletcher hadn’t made it very far before a hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him to a stop.

  “Fletcher, where are you even going?” his dad asked.

  He shook the hand off. “What do you want?”

  “I understand you’re upset, but can’t we forget about it for a while and just enjoy the rest of the day? Let's worry about this tomorrow.”

  Fletcher rolled his eyes and started back up on his march to nowhere. As much as part of him wanted to do just that and enjoy the time with his friends and family, he was too wound up to be anywhere near Hazel, and he didn’t think she was going to up and leave just for his sake.

  “Fine. Let’s talk about it now,” his dad offered. “But can we at least do it somewhere private?”

  He stopped and turned back with a glare. “Here to do her dirty work again, like a faithful little lap dog?”

  Sebastian’s hazel eyes narrowed. “Don’t you start that with me, boy.”

  “Or what? You’ll ground me? Hello. I’m twenty-six years old, Dad.” Fletcher threw his hands in the air in exasperation.

  Sebastian grabbed his arm. “You can be angry all you want, Fletcher, but that’s not going to change anything. Now will you please let me explain things to you?”

  He flared his nostrils out, but in the end he ducked his head in agreement and followed his father back the way he’d come. It’s not like he had anywhere else to go. While not an official prisoner, he couldn’t exactly come and go as he pleased, and with his additional Hexing conversion, he could never rejoin regular society anyway.

  They passed the room where they’d had dinner and continued down the hallway to the quarters. His father led him into their shared room and gestured to the bed. Fletcher sat at the head and his father at the foot. It reminded him all too much of when he and his dad would have their “talks” back during his upbringing.

  “That lapdog comment was uncalled for. I’m sorry,” Fletcher started off, leaning back against the pillow and headboard.

  “Given the stress of the past few days, we’ll let that one pass.” His father smiled, and Fletcher’s heart ached a bit as he realized just how old his dad was getting. “About training…”

  He sighed and set his head in his hands. “I’m not a fighter, Dad. You pointed that out yourself. You can’t expect me to go through with it.”

  Sebastian set a comforting hand on his arm. “I understand where you’re coming from, but things are different here. Everyone is expected to serve in the Mixed military at some point. Their—our—entire society is based around such things. The fact of the matter is that you don’t really have another option.”

  “I didn’t choose to join the Mixed, remember. That wasn’t my decision.” Fletcher looked up enough to glance at his father.

  “I know that, and I’m sorry this is how it worked out, but all you can do now is make the best of the situation you’re in.”

  Typical fatherly wisdom, a piece Fletcher had heard many times growing up.

  “I can’t fight, Dad. I can’t… kill. That isn’t me. These people are terrorists.”

  Sebastian blew a long breath out. “They’re just fighting for their right to live. Your right to live, even, Fletcher. You’re a Mixhuman too.”

  “It’s not the same. They randomly kill just because they can. I don’t even want to be at this base but I have no choice in that. I do have a choice in my actions, and I am not going to join a group that’s so violent and evil.”

  “There’s so much you don’t know, but now is not the time to get into it. I have a lot to explain, but we’re going to do it tomorrow when you’re in a better headspace for it,” his father said.

  “Fine.” He then recalled a matter that’d been weighing on him all day. “Dad, why didn’t you want anyone to know I’m part [Demanlic]? And why was Hazel so weird about it?”

  His father bit his lip and paused to think for a moment. “I’ve been with the Mixed a long time, Fletcher, and so were my parents before me. If there’s one thing I know, it’s that there’s never been a mix-[Demanlic].”

  “So? [Demanlics] are exceptionally rare among Unhumans too.”

  “It’s not that it’s rare, Fletcher. It’s unheard of, and if it weren’t for you, I’d say it was impossible. I don’t think you understand what [Demanlics] are, what they’re fabled to be able to do. If people knew about you…”

  Sebastian shook his head. “I’m afraid of what they would do to you, what they’d try to make you do. If people knew the truth, they would do everything they could to control you and turn you into a weapon. That’s not a life I ever wanted for you, and it’s why I hid your Hexing, even when protocol stated I should have returned both of us to the Mixed. You are and always will be the most important thing in my life.”

  “Alongside Nora, right?” Fletcher half-heartedly smiled. Hearing his father express those kinds of fears set his mind on keeping the secret, and it even made him regret that he’d so openly told others. If only they’d had the chance for this conversation before then, he would have done a whole lot more to safeguard it. Then again, it seemed his father was an expert at explaining things too late.

  “Yes. Of course.” His father smiled. “Assuming she ever gets around to forgiving me, I’d like to spend a little more time as a family. We’ve missed out on a lot.”

  “Do you have to invite Hazel?”

  “She’s your mother, Fletcher.”

  “She doesn’t seem too pleased to hold that role.” Fletcher swung his legs off the bed. “Alright. I guess that’s enough sulking for me. Wanna head back?”

  “Yes. I worked hard on that meal, you know.”

  “And it’s delicious. Thank you.”

  The pair of them returned to the temporary dining room to find things more or less as they’d left it. Everyone was still eating, and no one said anything upon their return to Fletcher’s relief. He knew what they were probably all thinking, and he wasn’t in the mood to hear about how much of a disappointment he was again.

  “Thank deities you guys are back. Addy was threatening to retell the story of hers and Jeric’s first date.” Nora smiled, her plate almost empty.

  “Well I haven’t heard it yet so…” Fletcher sat back down at his seat.

  “Why don’t you tell us your story first?”

  All eyes turned to the speaker, Hazel, and Fletcher got a sinking feeling in his stomach that this was going to go poorly.

  “I’d love to hear about how you met your Unhuman girlfriend,” she continued.

  “U-unhuman girlfriend?” Sebastian turned an inquisitive glance to his son.

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You dated an Unhuman? Like… a relationship? As in… sex?” Nora’s eyes were wide, and it was clear she was excited by the revelation of yet another of Fletcher’s “failings.”

  “I’m not sure we need to get into that,” Fletcher offered a tight smile as he dug his fork back into his now cold food.

  “Lots of sex, right, Fletcher? You seemed quite proud of it too when you told me.” Hazel’s face held no evil glint like what he expected from someone intentionally doing this to him, but he suspected that on the inside his mother was laughing maniacally.

  The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

  “Well, at least you got around to losing your virginity. Maybe there is hope for grandkids someday.” Sebastian took a sip of his drink, visibly upset despite the cool exterior he was trying to present.

  “Dad,” Fletcher groaned as he placed his face in his hands. Just when he thought things couldn’t get worse.

  “Really putting the ‘lover’ in freak-lover, eh Fletch?” Jeric said.

  “I think there was mention of cake earlier?” He glanced around, eager for any excuse to forget this conversation ever happened.

  Nora crossed her arms. “Why do you think only Fletcher can give you grandkids, Dad? Or do the ones I might produce not count?”

  Sebastian pointed his fork at her. “Emphasis on might. I’m getting old. You can’t blame me for wanting a new baby to chase around, one I don’t have to change the diapers for.”

  “That’s what Amy’s for.” Fletcher smiled as he remembered the little girl who almost felt like his own niece with how close he felt to all the Ortegas.

  “Amy?” Hazel glanced at him with curious eyes.

  “Yeah. My best friend’s older sister’s daughter, but we’re close with the whole Ortega family,” he answered. It hurt to think that he’d never see any of them again. They were such large parts of his life. He’d been writing to both Javier and his mom semi-frequently while in Bren’it’p, and he disliked thinking that they would never know what really happened to him.

  “Sebastian, Sebastian, Sebastian. When did you get so sloppy?” Hazel shook her head.

  “Nice one, Fletcher,” his father muttered.

  “I don’t understand.” Fletcher looked between his parents, and from what he could tell, the others in the room were equally confused.

  “Getting personally involved with one’s intel sources is considered poor taste and reckless,” his mother said.

  “Intel sources? Deities, Dad. Did you really use the Ortegas like that?” Fletcher internally cursed himself for not putting that together sooner. His father was a spy, and Jorge Ortega worked at the colony’s security office, giving him access to all the latest updates on skirmishes and attacks happening throughout the world.

  “I had a job to do. I did it, and I did it well.” Sebastian’s voice held no remorse, but Fletcher wasn’t really surprised by that.

  It seemed he didn’t know his father as well as he thought. He wanted to be upset by the change in his dad, but his father was also the only thing he had from his previous life, so he held back his hurt to keep the relationship afloat.

  Nothing else was said as everyone else returned to their food, an awkward tension in the air. Fletcher decided he was going to have to ask his dad for a list of approved conversation topics after this given how many secrets he’d accidentally spilled over the past few days.

  “So, Fletcher, do you have any [Skills] yet? Or have you thought about which ones you want to cultivate?” Addy’s charming, musical voice spoke up, taking some of the tension from the air.

  “I only have two. [Dark Vision] and [Read Thoughts].”

  The notification popped up the moment the words left his mouth.

  [Activating: Read Thoughts]

  Fletcher gasped and grabbed his head as conflicting voices filled his mind, all speaking different words but mingling together in such a way he couldn’t make anything out. Try as he might, he couldn’t tune any of them out, and anytime he tried to focus on just one voice, the others would swarm him, making it impossible to discern anything but chattering. Loud chattering that wouldn’t shut up, no matter how hard he thought about dismissing it.

  Someone grabbed his shoulder, gently shaking him.

  There were more words, but these ones were physical and in his ears instead of his mind, allowing him to latch on to them.

  “Fletcher, turn it off.” That was his father’s voice.

  He shook his head, his fingers digging into his hair as he begged the universe for an outlet. The words in his brain became more distinct, and he picked out a few phrases, though none of it was pleasant or helpful.

  “This freaking idiot…”

  “A walking disaster…”

  “At least I know I’m the favorite child now…”

  The brief clarity allowed Fletcher the chance to compose his own cohesive thought and press all his effort into the words: deactivate [Read Thoughts].

  [Deactivating: Read Thoughts]

  Fletcher moaned and leaned his head on the table, a pounding headache encompassing his entire skull. At least his mind was empty of all the other thoughts except his own.

  “How stupid are you? What were you thinking, turning it on like that?” Jeric snarled. “Talk about invasion of privacy.”

  “I didn’t actually learn anything,” Fletcher muttered, sitting back up. “But deities, that sucked. How was I supposed to know that saying the name would trigger it?”

  “Well, it’s also about your thought process, Fletcher. You must have been thinking about activating it. [Skills] don’t just turn on by themselves.” Addy offered a small smile in comfort. “But it’s okay. Learning to control [Skills] is part of the process.”

  Fletcher furled his eyebrows as he recalled the experience. He didn’t remember distinctly thinking about activating [Read Thoughts], but he supposed it was possible he had a stray thought about it.

  “How much [Mana] did that use up? It’s not like you have much if you’re only at six-percent conversion,” Addy said.

  He shrugged. “I don’t know. How would I tell?”

  “It tells you after you deactivate the [Skill]. Didn’t you get Hexed sixteen years ago? Shouldn’t you have been able to figure some of this out on your own?” Jeric said, his crimson hair gleaming in the light.

  “I only ever had [Dark Vision], and that activated by itself if I was in the dark. I’ve never seen anything about [Mana].” Fletcher crossed his arms, disliking the way the others expected him to be an expert in something he’d been hiding for over a decade and a half.

  “Pull up your status.” Addy’s voice was curious but not accusing.

  He shook his head. “I don’t know how to do that.”

  Jeric rolled his eyes. “Just think about it, dude. It’s not rocket science.”

  Fletcher gave him a glare but then did as he said, thinking really hard, status.

  Something inside responded, and white text appeared over his vision.

  [Species: Demanlic]

  [Conversion Percentage: 6%]

  [Skills:]

  [Read Thoughts, Level 1]

  [Dark Vision, Level 2]

  “Okay. I have it. Nothing about [Mana],” Fletcher informed the others.

  “It should be right under your conversion percentage. Use your eyes.” Jeric’s voice was terse.

  “It skips straight to [Skills].” He shrugged once again. “My conversion percentage must be too low.”

  “That’s not how it works.” Addy tapped her fingers on the table. “Conversion percentage sets a cap on total levels in [Skills] and your [Mana] potential. A low conversion percentage just means limited access to [Skills] and using them. How can you not have [Mana]?”

  Fletcher swallowed against the lump in his throat. “I guess it must be a species thing.”

  The conversation died there, everyone becoming uncomfortable, but no one commenting on him being [Demanlic]. That was a topic that would likely never be reopened again unless something drastic changed.

  His father clapped his hands together. “I believe it’s time for cake. And we did manage to pull together some kind of gift to celebrate.”

  Nora handed him a box with an annoyed look. Fletcher opened it, and his lips twitched into a smile.

  Books.

  His own, of course, but physical books nonetheless. Some of his favorites too, and at the bottom was the photo album his father had given him at Christmas that he’d left behind in his haste to pack the morning he left. A small card was signed by his father, Nora, Jeric, and Addy. Unsurprisingly, his mother’s signature was distinctly lacking.

  “I’m excited to have something to keep me busy for the next few days. Thank you.” Fletcher set the box aside, keeping the appreciation on his face. He knew this had all come from his father’s efforts.

  “I wouldn’t worry too much about that. You’ll need to spend a lot of time working out and learning some basic combat skills before training,” Hazel said.

  “I’m not going,” Fletcher declared once again. “I don’t care what you say. My mind’s made up.”

  Nora had a smirk on her face as Addy looked elsewhere in the room. Jeric was shaking his head and rolling his eyes.

  “You said you would talk to him, Sebastian,” Hazel said.

  “We’re going to talk about it tomorrow, Hazel. Just have a little patience.” His father ran a hand over his face.

  The anger Fletcher thought had dissipated came back in full force as he turned to face his dad. “Are you kidding me? You’re just going to manipulate me into doing what she wants? I’m so sick of this.”

  “That’s not what this is, Fletcher. If you could just control your temper and calm down—”

  “No. I’m done with this. I didn’t ask to have terrorists for parents, and you can’t make me into one of your brainwashed soldiers.” He stood up once again. “Screw you all.”

  His father also stood up, but Hazel motioned him down. “I’ll handle this Sebastian. It’s pretty clear that you’re not capable of it.”

  “As if I want to hear anything you have to say.” Fletcher walked to the door.

  His mother came after him at a leisurely pace, but that was fine with him. He’d easily outpace her and be free of all this nonsense. It didn’t matter that he didn’t have any place to go. He’d rather go freeze to death outside or deal with the Unhumans than join up with an active terrorist organization.

  Fletcher passed by the two guards outside the door, one who looked to be almost entirely [Sylph] with his colored hair and translucent skin while the other had the height of an [Ogre] and the mane, but otherwise appeared Human.

  They ignored him as he started down the hall, but he was only a few steps past them when Hazel appeared in the doorway.

  “Sergeants, arrest Fletcher,” she ordered.

  Before he could react, the half-[Ogre] had him pushed up against the wall with his arms behind his back while the other soldier cuffed his wrists together. He managed to turn his head enough to see his mother standing there, disappointment on her face.

  “You really like to make things difficult on yourself,” Hazel said. She then looked to his captors. “Take him to his cell to cool off for the night. I’ll deal with this in the morning.”

  They both gave a “yes, ma’am” as the [Ogre] peeled Fletcher from the metal walls. Each soldier grabbed an arm and hauled him away, back to imprisonment.