My identity was revealed. The question I was dying to know was answered. What I was, who I am; I finally knew the truth.

Being a witch explained how my dad was able to speak and move just before he died. I eased his pain by squeezing his hand. And it also explained the bookshelf entrance to the secret library and the chains around my wrists vanishing just by thinking it.

But being a werewolf didn't explain anything, except that I could hear and smell things from far away or close by, something a normal person can't do. But what about the full moon? I never turned on the full moon.

Pansy must have heard my heart beating like a drum as she said, "Now don't get your undies in a twist. We told you what you are, but don't expect us to give you the details."

I was completely baffled and thrown off balance. My heart was racing with excitement, making it hard to sit still. But when Deacon's cold and very pale hand landed on my lap, it sent icy waves of tenderness through my body.

"But how? How can I be both werewolf and witch?"

I saw Pansy roll her eyes, probably mad that I asked a question. But I wanted to know more, more about who I am...what I am.

"It seems impossible," answered Deacon. "Actually, it is. Nobody can be two different species, but your parents managed to pull it off with their DNA."

Then Pansy added, "Your mom was a witch and your dad was a werewolf, creating what you turned out to be...a werewitch."

"But he just said it was impossible? How can I be both and not just one?" My thoughts immediately turned to Alex. "Wait! Does that mean my brother...? Is he...?"

"A werewitch? No, he's human," he replied. "You are the only werewitch that exists, because in the supernatural world, no one can be both. But when you were born, the forces of nature tried to kill you to prevent a threat. But your father...he wouldn't let that happen. So your parents created a dark spell that assured your survival. But the price they both paid was deadly. Your mother lost her powers and your father lost his werewolf abilities and was forced to turn every night, even when there wasn't a full moon."

I never knew the sacrifice they made for me and I felt sorrowful. They deserved much better than death to save me.

But Alex, still in my thoughts, only brought more questions. "Is that why my brother isn't supernatural? Because of the consequences my parents faced?"

"Ding, ding, ding!" Pansy said, "One point for the fur witch!"

"Don't call me that." I was calm and stern towards her. You would think that Pansy got under my skin by now, but I only found her insults amusing.

"Would you rather me call you a werebitch?"

Deacon stepped in. "Stop it, Pansy!"

"Oh, don't lie. You thought it was funny." Pansy chuckled and her chest pounded to the rhythm of her laughs.
 
"Forget about nicknames. I want to know more about me." In all honesty, I was trying to stop the playful fighting. However, knowing more about myself was a priority as well.

Deacon replied, "That's all we can tell you right now."

And I could only hold so much patience in to keep myself from exploding with frustration. I just wanted to know more, more than what they gave me. It was only a small part to a much bigger story. I needed answers. I needed the whole story.

...

It was late. Almost 1 A.M. in the morning. I couldn't sleep. My thoughts were scattered everywhere and I had too many unsolved questions that it was hard to think straight.

I could only imagine the kind of spells I could cast and what I would look like as a werewolf. But knowing what I am only caused more thoughts to scatter.

My parents did so much for me. If only they were here. If only I could talk to them about it. Maybe they could give me answers. Like what does being a werewitch have to do with Bones? Is there others after me? What if they find me? I could only hope for the best, which was impossible.

I woke up before the sun once again. It was still dark. Too dark. Turning on my bedroom lamp, I pulled on a pair of skinny jeans and a black tank top and grabbed all the candles I could find.

After grabbing at least seven candles, I placed them in a circle around me. With my heart aching to the idea of witchcraft, I took a seat and closed my eyes; praying, hoping, wishing for this to work.

Light the candles, I said in my head.

When nothing happened, I immediately wanted to give up. But giving up would mean the worst about me, the worst about witches. Giving up would mean that I'm a coward and I couldn't let that define me.

I closed my eyes again; praying, hoping, wishing for another chance.

Light the candles, I repeated again in my head.

My eyes widened to shimmering bright yellow flames. I felt relief flow through me as serenity and calmness settled in.

I felt at ease for just a brief moment until the window flew open behind me, allowing a strong wind to reach my neck. Tingles on my spine caused me to jerk to my feet.

I turned around, feeling my heart pounding against my chest. The dark skies entered and a crescent moon shed light on my room. I looked down at my feet, feeling the warmth from the fuzzy rug between my toes, and noticed the candles go out.

I raced to the window to stop the cold wind. But something wouldn't let me. Something on the other side was fighting me.

My energy drained so quickly that I pulled away, letting the window fall open and an even colder breeze emerged.

And it wasn't long before he appeared.

I asked as he entered the window, "What are you doing here?"

"Calm down, my dear," he said. "I'm just visiting."

He was tugging at my heartstrings. I felt like a puppet where I would dance and sing until my strings fall out and I'm useless. But why did he make me feel so intimidated, so scared?

"Why must your heart beat so loudly?"

"Because you're dangerous," I retorted.

"And who told you that? Your boyfriend?"

My thoughts immediately went to Deacon. "He's not my boyfriend."

"Oh, yeah." He didn't seem to believe me as he continued, "Then what was that kiss in the cellar all about?"

Shock spread across my face. "You were there?"

"Of course."

"Why?" I asked with tense shoulders. "Why can't you leave me alone?"

"Because you're special to me, Saige Quinn," he said. "It's why I can't let you go. I watch you, day and night, hoping you would think of me...hoping you would fall for me."

"What are you talking about?" I tried reading between the lines. But what was he trying to confess? That he loved me? Or was it something more than that?

"You'll know soon, I promise." He walked closer to me. But I still couldn't see his face beneath the hoodie. And a part of me knew what I would see might scare me.

He continued to speak, but his words only echoed "danger" in my head. After knowing the things he was capable of, ignoring him wasn't the only problem.

"Leave before I scream," I replied, remembering how much I hated him.

"They can't protect you. Not like I can," he responded, twirling a strand of my hair with his finger. "They may be your protectors, but they're also liars. You see, they haven't told you why sunlight isn't an issue for them or how they knew where to find you."

I slapped his hand away from me. "Why are you telling me this?! You aren't protecting me. Killing my parents wasn't an act of protecting. And Pansy and Deacon aren't liars. They wouldn't lie to me." I sounded like I was in denial, but I also sounded truthful. They were good friends, almost allies. My mom sent them to protect me. And besides, she wouldn't betray me like that, not when her only daughter is in danger.

"Pansy and Deacon have so many dark secrets. Maybe more than I do. That's why I want you to question them. Make them tell you the truth." He moved back and spoke softer. "It's the only way I can know you're safe. And with safety comes trust. I wouldn't have done the things I did, like kill your parents, without a reason."

"Please just go," I said, pointing towards the window.

"Just consider it," he said." Maybe then will you get the answers you deserve."

Just before he left, the craziest thing happened. He came close, close enough that I could smell his breath. It didn't reek of blood this time; it smelled like strawberries.

But when he came closer; our lips just inches away, I saw something in him that I couldn't explain. His lips pressed against my forehead, allowing the light touch to take a hold over me.

Only my dad kissed me there.

Only my dad had that kind of touch.

But he wasn't my dad. He was the man who killed him.

When reality settled in, Bones was gone as well as the cold wind that followed. The window was shut and the sun peeked over the horizon.

I accomplished one thing so far: casting a spell. I wrote that in my diary just before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

"How did you sleep?" Deacon asked as I walked into the kitchen.

I sat in one of the stools next to him at the island counter. The thought that he might smell Bones on me caused a sudden twitch. "Not very good. I had a nightmare."

"About Bones?" He raised a brow.

I nodded, gulping in silence. The urge to switch stools occurred to me, but doing that would cause him to ask questions I would rather not answer.

Then a crash sounded before more thoughts came to mind.

"Deacon!" Pansy screamed from the other room. Her voice sounded life-threatening, so I followed him to the front door.

I released a gasp as I watched an unknown person fighting Pansy.

Deacon tried to step in, but he was thrown across the room at a wall.

"Deacon!" I yelled, running to him. But someone moved in my path. His hand cradled my throat and a hoodie much like Bones prevented me from seeing a face. The sensation of choking caused me to croak and my back slammed into a corner.

I searched the room. On the floor beside me was Pansy. She must have been knocked out, because she wasn't moving. But Deacon was across the room, unable to stand.

The unknown person tightened his grip around my neck. I only had enough energy to do one thing: pull off his hoodie.

If I was about to die, I should at least know my killer.

And who it was shocked me more than ever.