Two
THIA SLUMPED ON THE SOFA AND TUCKED HER FEET UNDER HER, THE only way to sit comfortably when her legs were too short for her feet to touch the ground.
The mirror was a sharp weight against her stomach, that perplexing paper an incriminating rustle.
She moved to pull it free, ready for answers, but Grandma Winnie was striding toward her, beaming.
She held out the smooth white envelope. “You should do the honors.”
Thia slipped her hand from her pocket, ignoring her findings for the moment, and took the envelope. She peeled the lip as carefully as she could, wincing as she mauled a corner, and slid the letter free.
Dear Ms. Sanbrooke, You’ll find enclosed…
“What does it say?” Grandma Winnie asked, nearly bouncing on her toes.
She skimmed the rest. “It’s an official letter of support from Dr. Laurence.” The head of the department, a long shot under normal circumstances, but the professor happened to be a good friend of Thia’s internship director.
Wrinkled hands came around her, squeezing with delight. “I knew it! You’re a shoo-in now; they’ll have to accept you.” She prattled on about her excitement, her plans to drive Thia there to help her settle in, what the dorms would be like, while Thia’s ears buzzed.
It wasn’t an acceptance but—her grammy was right. It was definitely a good sign. Thia waited for that rush of satisfaction. But she couldn’t seem to process it. She slipped her hand into her hoodie again, caressing the paper. “Grammy,” she started, then repeated when it didn’t register. “Grammy.”
Grandma Winnie paused her chatter, then frowned at the look on Thia’s face. “What?”
Thia ran a hand over her curls, as if smoothing them could calm her insides. “You said mom did her medical degree at KUMC, right?”
Her grammy wetted her lips, momentarily caught off guard. “Class of ‘03.”
Thia stared, chest tightening. That was two years later than the date of the certificate in her pocket. There was no way her mother could have done a medical degree and an occult studies program simultaneously, let alone at another school halfway across the country.
She reached back into her hoodie and tugged the parchment free. “Explain this.” She rose from the sofa and pressed it into her grammy’s chest.
Confusion flitted across Grandma Winnie’s tanned face. But when she smoothed the paper open, it was replaced by horror. “Where did you get this?”
The curl fell over her face again. Thia brushed it back with irritated fingers.
“In the attic. Where you….” Hid it, she wanted to say.
But that didn’t make sense. If anything, her grammy was always too honest, telling her way more than was appropriate to share with the kid you were raising.
But why else keep it in a nook that only existed thanks to an ill-fitting shelf that was never moved?
She didn’t want to believe it until she saw her grammy’s face, heard the guilt-ridden anger in her voice when she said, “You were snooping.”
Thia frowned. “I was looking for flashlights. I knocked one of the boxes.” She jutted her chin at the paper, still in her grammy’s hands. “Was mom even a doctor?”
She still expected Grandma Winnie to deny it, because how could it possibly be true? In all the stories her grammy had ever told her about her parents, there was one overarching thread: Melina was a doctor who loved helping people, and Thia was the same.
But Grandma Winnie only grimaced.
Oh my god.
“Thia,” her grammy started, raising a hand as if to cup her face.
Thia batted it away. “Why the hell would you make that up?”
Her grammy folded her arms. “I don’t want to talk about this.”
It was a stance that always manage to cow Thia. She opened her mouth, then shut it again. But no, this was ridiculous. It was one thing not to want to dredge up the pain of old fights with someone long gone. It was quite another to fabricate an entire life story. “Not good enough.”
Grandma Winnie’s brows lifted, perhaps unused to Thia contradicting her. “I am trying to protect you.”
“From what?”
Her eyes bore into the certificate as though she could will it into nonexistence if she stared hard enough.
“Grammy?” Thia prompted, when she didn’t answer.
“I can’t.”
“Can’t what?”
“I can’t lose you too.” The words were so soft Thia nearly missed them. At the pain in them, Thia relented a touch.
“So she wasn’t a doctor. She was into”—Thia glanced at the paper again—“what is that, witchcraft? Who cares? It’s not like it’s real.”
Her grammy didn’t laugh like Thia expected. Instead, she looked even paler.
Heat seared Thia’s stomach, so sharp and biting that she nearly doubled over. But then it was gone. Confused, she pulled the mirror from her pocket.
Before she could inspect it, her grammy shrieked. Her hand flailed, striking Thia hard across the forearm so that she dropped the mirror. Skin smarting, she gaped at her grandmother.
Her grammy had never hit her. Not once. Not even a spanking.
But instead of apologizing, Grandma Winnie dashed for the mirror, snarling. “Get away from that thing.”
For all her grammy’s spunk, Thia was young and spry. She beat her to it, tucking the weave of metal and glass close to her chest.
Her grammy eyed her warily, like she had half a mind to tear it from Thia’s grip with her perfectly manicured claws. “Give-it-to-me-right-now,” she said, so fast it was nearly one word.
“What is it?” Thia demanded, not moving.
Grandma Winnie’s brows shot up. “Stupid girl,” she snapped, and Thia recoiled.
“Grammy, what—”
“Give it.” She swiped for the mirror, and when she missed, she raised her hand into a fist. To what—wrestle Thia for it? To strike her again, properly this time?
Thia didn’t wait to find out. She ducked under the arm, beelining for the door. She didn’t recognize the woman standing in front of her, the harsh curl of her plum-colored lips, the hollowness in her pale gaze. “I…I’m going to stay at Riley’s for a bit.”
The idea that Thia might leave seemed to shock her grammy back to reality. She took a step. “Thia, the storm—”
Arm still stinging, Thia unlocked the door. Her grandmother froze at the click.
“It’s just a storm, Grammy,” Thia said, and left.