She's Twilit.
Finnian had to repeat the realization in his head a few times before it registered. Twilit. She was half Light Mage—she had Light Mage ancestors. A grandparent, a parent. Someone who may very well have gone by the name of Day.
This was no coincidence.
His hands shaking, he continued to scroll through the article, then opened the next, then the next. There was no information on her parents anywhere, only that she was Twilit. That part, at least, made sense. Light Mages who married or had families with Dark Mages were exiled so no Dark Mage blood entered the Light communities; and exile meant becoming an unperson. Any and all information concerning them had been magically locked away and erased, just like all other traces of their existence. If he wanted to find out if he had any connection to Mercury Day, he wouldn't find it here.
All he could go by, for now, were hints and guesses. The color of Mercury's eyes. The type of her magic. The suspicious lack of information on her family history. Maybe other ties, if he could find them.
Such as…
Still as a statue, he watched video after video, speech after speech. He listened to her choice of words, her mannerisms, the very way she moved and carried herself. But it was unfamiliar. Even her accent was different from Finnian's and his parents', although he couldn't fully place it.
And then he saw it.
Mercury's familiar. It wasn't just any creature. It was a white tiger.
A big cat. Great power then, enough to rival Finnian, scratch that, even his father. But more than that…
A big cat. Like everyone in the Day family had had for generations.
Abruptly a memory flashed through Finnian's head, and he jumped to his feet. Where had he put it again? That picture…
And then he had it. The photo of the man who looked both like and unlike his father was in his hands again, and now that he looked back and forth between him and Mercury, he couldn't believe he had never seen the resemblance. Mercury Day might be different from him in the color of her skin, the hue and texture of her hair, the shape of her face. But her expression, the way she looked at people, the way she smiled—it was a perfect copy of this man.
What was he, then? Her father? Would that make him a cousin to Finnian—or even an uncle?
His father had always told him he was an only child.
This is wrong.
Jumping to his feet, Finnian hid the photo safely in the inner pocket of his jacket and stormed down the stairs. "Dad!" he called as he ran. "Mom!"
The living room door opened to reveal his mother's worried face. "What's wrong, sweetheart?"
Finnian brushed past her with barely a glance. "Where's Dad?"
"In his office, why—"
Without another word he marched to his father's office and yanked the door open.
His father had been working at his desk again. When he caught sight of Finnian in the doorframe, he jumped to his feet and hastily shuffled his papers away. Again.
"Hey," he said, offering a hesitant smile. "I thought you were up in your room."
"Oh, really," Finnian drawled, taking deliberately slow steps towards his father's desk. "I thought you weren't lying to me, Dad."
His father raised his eyebrows, his expression unreadable. "Lying?" he repeated. "I've never lied to you, what on earth are you talking about—"
"Mercury Day is Twilit."
His father paused, but he didn't look fazed by this information. Only mildly puzzled. "So?"
"You knew, didn't you?" Finnian narrowed his eyes. "She has Light Mage ancestors. What is she to me, huh? An aunt? A cousin? I like to know who my family is, you know."
There was a long, heavy pause. Then his father gave a soft laugh. "Don't be silly," he said. "What proof do you have that her eyes and family name aren't a coincidence? She's not even the same race as us."
"She could be mixed," Finnian shot back. "And what about her familiar, hm? Another strange, funny little coincidence?"
Now his father actually paused. "What about her familiar?" he asked.
"It's a white tiger." Finnian crossed his arms. "A big cat. You know, the kind we've had in our family for goodness knows how many generations?" He sneered. "Are you telling me there's a girl running around—a Twilit Mage girl—who just happens to have our last name, eye color and familiar but has nothing to do with us?"
His father's eyes flashed, but he was silent for a long moment. Hesitating.
"Perhaps," he said at length, "now is not a good time to talk about this. You're clearly still upset—"
"Oh, that's where you're wrong," Finnian said grimly. "This is the perfect time to talk about this."
His father sighed. "Very well," he said. "Finnian, I think you're delusional. Besides, even on the…unlikely chance that you're right and she is related to us somehow—she is the child of an exile. I wouldn't be allowed to talk about her parents even if I wanted to."
Anger flashed through Finnian, anger and betrayal. "You're keeping secrets from your own heir? Your own family?"
"I never said I was! But even if I were, Finnian, you do understand it's illegal—"
"To acknowledge that person ever existed, right." A grim smile spread over Finnian's face. "Does that include pictures?"
"Of course, why—"
Finnian reached into his jacket to pull out the picture. "Then who is this man?"
His father blanched, and that was all he needed to know. "This photo," he said softly. "Where did you get it?"
"What does it matter?" Finnian shot back. "Any reason why it should be important to you?"
For a few heartbeats his father hesitated, then he tore his gaze from the picture, shaking his head. "No one. It's no one important," he said at length. "You wouldn't know his name even if I told you."
He was still lying. Finnian was holding the evidence right in his face, and he was still lying. To his son. Who he had always made a point of keeping no secrets from.
"All right," Finnian snapped. "Then maybe I should ask Mom."
"She won't know either." His father reached for the photo. "Give it back."
"Why?"
"Just…do it."
Finnian didn't know why, but he didn't want to give this picture away. Not until he knew who this man was, until he had found him, whatever. He refused to drop this mystery here, refused to abandon his precious evidence of a relative he'd never even known he had.
"I don't understand," he said with his best fake-innocent face. "If it doesn't show anyone important, why should you care if I keep it?"
His father had no response to that except for an exhausted wave of his hand. Half triumphant, half frustrated, Finnian turned to leave before pausing and turning back around in the doorframe.
"You really should get better at keeping secrets, Dad," he said bitterly. "The way you've been hiding your paperwork lately is not suspicious at all."
Damn it. Damn it all to hell.
If his father wouldn't give him answers, he could always get them elsewhere.
~ ~ ~
He had said that, but he was still none the wiser when he returned to school on Monday, and his mood was appropriately terrible.
"You look like you've been run over by a truck," Elaine remarked unhelpfully as they gathered in front of their lockers in the morning. "Whatever happened to you? Is this still the—"
"Lainey!" Cassander interrupted her, shooting a warning glare. "Don't."
"No, this is not about the helpless Dark Mages who got brutally beaten up by a group of security guards," Finnian snapped. "What stories have you heard about that? Did they tell you I got captured by a bunch of fully-armed terrorists and barely escaped with my life?"
Cassander lifted a pacifying hand. "Finnian, it's not like that," he said. "It's just, it's…we heard there was a fight, and that somebody tried to shoot someone else, and we got worried. You could've at least texted us back to let us know you were okay."
"Oh right, gunshots." Finnian rolled his eyes. "Gee, if only there was a way to block them without getting a hole blown into you. Like, I don't know…magic or something. Oh wait!"
"What is wrong with you?"
He paused at the sight of Elaine's green eyes flashing. "We heard you got caught up in something with the Dark Mages, and then you went MIA for the whole weekend," she said. "All we did was ask you about it. What the hell are you snapping at us for? Is it wrong for your friends to be worried?"
She had a point, Finnian realized, much to his own chagrin. "Right, sorry, didn't mean it like that," he said, holding up his hands. "I'm just sick of people assuming I was in any danger. I've had it up to here with people worrying over me and refusing to listen when I tell them what actually happened!"
"Finnian—"
"No. I don't want to hear it again." With his hands still up, he gestured irritably. "I am fine, I wasn't hurt, I wasn't threatened, the Dark Mages were random teenagers and not the dangerous terrorists you people think they were, and the guards had no right to treat them like that. Is that it, or do I have to correct any more misconceptions?"
Cassander was quiet, frowning, his expression unreadable. Elaine, however, sighed. "That's what you saw," she said. "What if—"
"No! No, damn it!" Finnian's voice was loud enough to make people turn around and stare at him, but he didn't give a damn. "I was not fooled, there was no illusion, it wasn't some kind of propaganda stunt, and before you start on it, no, they did nothing to deserve getting handled like that! I'm not having this discussion all over again! Now or ever!"
Elaine was quiet, but Cassander let out a soft sigh. "We're just worried about you, man," he said. "You understand that, right?"
Finnian let out a slow breath.
"I know," he said. "Don't think I'm not grateful. But…"
Do you also think they deserved the treatment they got? The question lay on his tongue, but he couldn't spit it out. Not after…his parents. He couldn't do it; he couldn't face the possibility that his two best friends might also support the brutality against innocent teenagers, as long as said teenagers were on the wrong side of this conflict.
Was it really so strange for him to have a problem with that? He didn't want to be alone with this feeling. It wasn't right. It couldn't be.
He didn't want to know.
All he knew was that he excused himself and stormed off to his next classroom, hoping to hide there until the teacher arrived—
—and nearly collided with someone.
Hikaru goddamn Hiyama, appearing in his path at the worst possible time and still wearing his stupid, inevitable headphones.
That was the last straw.
"Hey, Hiyama," he said. "What cloud are you floating on? Is it nice, having your headphones on and not listening to the stupid sounds of the human world?"
Hikaru paused, regarding him with impassive dark eyes. It was impossible to tell what he was thinking, and somehow that only made Finnian more furious.
"There you go again!" he snapped. "Staring at me all blank-faced, like—like—I don't know. Like a soulless piece of stone!" An idea shot through him, a low, cruel, horrible blow, but at the moment the only thing he could muster was a grim smile. "I wonder what would upset you," he said, circling him slowly. "Make you show some emotion."
Hikaru only continued to look at him. There was no telling if he could hear what Finnian was saying at all.
Those stupid headphones.
With a quick, precise move Finnian snatched them off Hikaru's head and snapped them in his hands.
There was a moment's silence. Hikaru's eyes widened as they rested on the broken headphones, but he said nothing. The only thing betraying the rising panic in his mind was the trembling of his hands.
Then he clenched his fists and slashed his hand through the air, and Finnian felt the telltale buzz of magic creeping into him. An enchantment.
But it was not until after Hikaru had snatched the broken headphones from his hands and walked off that he realized what the exchange student had done.
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