The words come easy; it is the first time since that horrible night that I feel sure. I need to tell him this. He’s failed me in every way a parent can fail a child, but I will be brave enough to give him the chance to finally protect his daughter.

My father doesn’t have much of a poker face, but he nods along patiently as I spin the whole sordid tale. The day they dragged William’s body up from the river, and just how much of me died right along with him; Mr. Hues; the scissors; Haxahaven; the secret lessons in the woods; and Finn. Finn, Finn, Finn.

He takes up much of the story, this dream boy with pretty eyes and big promises he never had any intention of keeping. I hate seeing myself through my father’s eyes, a foolish girl taken in by a handsome face. But he bears the blame too; if he’d stayed in New York, or in my life at all, I would have had someone else to teach me. I would have had someone else to love me too. Maybe I wouldn’t have sought it out so desperately somewhere else.

My father’s face crumples as I describe the basement scene, how Finn and I laid out the scrying mirror, the pocket watch, the graveyard dust and the dagger. How Finn took my hands in his and promised to be mine forever, right before he stole my magic. How William flickered to life in the mirror and for one blessed, awful, final time I was able to speak with him.

He shakes his head sadly, disappointed. He has the nerve to be disappointed in me, a person he did nothing to raise.

I tell him about Mrs. Vykotsky and the way her neck snapped and I left the Sons to dispose of her body like a coward. The room melts away and I am no longer in Paris; I am back in the Commodore Club in a starless night that never really ended for me. I’m still there, in my head, watching her die.

I tell him about the magic going wrong months ago, how I’ve barely felt it at all since I’ve been here.

Sometimes words are just words. I try not to feel them as they leave me. I’m not strong enough to take the force of their blows.

I tell him we robbed the Louvre, stole the key right out from under the Sons.

I describe what happened today, as Finn and I climbed down the stairs into what felt like the heart of the earth and saw the veil itself.

“And now I’m here,” I finish. “Because I don’t know what to do and I’m tired of pretending that I do.” I am tired. I am so, so tired.