Chapter 27 He Always Finds You
The room felt warmer and somehow brighter.
Luz sat in the chair beside the bed, smiling as May played.
May’s guitar rested in her lap, fingers coaxing out a soft melody.
As she played, the harsh fluorescent lights seemed to take on the golden quality of the late afternoon sun.
The sterile smell faded, replaced by honey and sunlight. Amy’s breathing evened out.
May’s eyes were closed, lost in the melody. Her skin glowed faintly gold. When the song ended, the room felt almost as though something poisonous had been burned away.
May’s eyes caught mine as I stepped into the room.
“So where’ve you been, huh?” Luz asked, grin smug.
I flushed. “Nowhere special.”
“Hot Professor?” May guessed, smirking.
I glowered at Luz. “You told her?”
“Of course, who else was I going to gossip with?” She laughed. She smiled at May, leaning closer. “I’ve got a running bet on how big his—”
“Oh, my Gods—how’s Amy?” I blurted, face burning.
Luz cackled. May snorted, then sobered.
“She’s the same,” she murmured, brushing a gentle hand over Amy’s hair. “Still sleeping. But I think she squeezed my hand earlier. Just for a second.” Hope flickered across her face. “It felt real.”
I exhaled and sat beside her, taking Amy’s other hand.
“How are you doing, May?” I asked.
May shifted, fingers absently plucking quiet notes. “I’ve been dreaming again.”
I looked up. “What about?”
“Mountains made of glass. Rivers that speak in riddles. A skyless world lit by stars so bright they hurt to look at. And there’s a woman with silver eyes telling me to keep singing. Says my music heals people.”
Goosebumps rippled down my arms. I exchanged a glance with Luz, who nodded.
“Has it always been like that?” I asked. “The music, I mean. Has it always felt… powerful?”
May paused, considering. “Since I was little. Before everything, back when I felt like no one really saw me, music was the only place where I felt whole, like I could be exactly who I was supposed to be without explanation or apology.”
My chest tightened. I reached over and squeezed her wrist, feeling warmth radiating from her skin.
“I’m glad you never stopped playing,” I said, smiling. “Amy’s lucky to have you.”
May smiled, brushing Amy’s fingers with her own. “I think I’m the lucky one. Even if she is a complete gremlin when she’s awake.”
I laughed despite everything. “Yeah. She’d be roasting all of us right now.”
“Exactly.” May smiled fondly. “She’d tell us to stop moping and actually do something useful.”
We sat like that for a long while, quiet but hopeful.
Eventually, I stood. “Anyone else need coffee as badly as I do?”
Luz perked up. “Always.”
“May?”
She offered me a weak but genuine smile. “Please. Something strong. I’ve been up since five this morning.”
“You got it.”
I leaned down to press a kiss to Amy’s temple, whispering, “Hold on, Ames. We’re working on it,” before stepping into the hallway.
I spotted the mysterious nurse across the hall
She had her salt-and-pepper hair woven into a thick braid.
Her scrubs were ordinary blue, but on her, they hung more like ceremonial robes, the color of twilight skies.
There was something about the way she moved, adjusting something on a medication cart, like she existed slightly out of sync with the rest of the world.
“Hey, wait!”
She paused and turned, raising a brow. She didn’t seem surprised, as though she’d been expecting me.
“You’re not just a nurse,” I said, lowering my voice and glancing around. “Are you?”
Her mouth curved into a knowing smile. “Names are slippery things. But you’re circling close, Persephone.”
The name hit like lightning down my spine. “Don’t call me that. I don’t… I don’t feel like her.”
“And yet, you are,” she said. “Just as you are, Melanie. Both truths can live in the same skin.”
A chill swept through me. I folded my arms across my chest.
“Why are you here?” I asked, voice barely above a whisper. “It’s not just about Amy, is it?”
The fluorescent lights above us flickered. “To keep the scales balanced.” She paused. “You’re awakening, child, faster than you realize. And awakening demands memory if you hope to survive what’s coming.”
Dread throbbed in my chest. “What’s coming?”
“You already know.” She tilted her head. “You’ve seen it in dreams you pretend not to understand. The veil between worlds is thinning. The boundaries are weakening. This is happening because you are making it happen. You are pulling things through that have been locked away for millennia.”
I sucked in a breath. “I don’t—I’m not trying to—”
“Intent doesn’t matter,” she interrupted.
“Power is power. It responds to what you are, not what you intend. And you, little seed—” Her eyes gleamed silver.
“Are a bridge between life and death. That has always been your nature. Even now, even mortal, you cannot help but thin the Veil wherever you walk.”
Her gaze was soft, but her eyes were sad. “You have walked many roads, worn many faces, but the question you carried was always the same.”
“What question?”
“Who are you,” she said, “when no one is watching? When you’re standing alone at the crossroads, which path do you choose?”
“I don’t know,” I whispered.
“You will,” she assured me. “But first, you must remember.”
I wet my lips. “Remember how?”
She arched a brow. “Learn to listen to your body, to your instincts, to the seed of power you carry in this life. Because you are not just her reborn, you are something new. Something that has never existed before.”
Then she turned to leave.
“Wait—” I reached out.
She stopped, looked back.
“There is someone who needs rescuing,” she confirmed, voice carrying weight like prophecy. “Someone who has loved you in ways you don’t remember yet. Who is trapped between worlds because of choices made to protect you.”
My throat closed. “My mother?”
Her smile was enigmatic, neither confirming nor denying, but I saw the answer in her eyes. “Begin preparing, little seed. Time is shorter than you think.”
She turned and walked away, disappearing around the corner before I could question further. I stood frozen, her words crashing through my chest like thunder. I grabbed coffee on autopilot, hands shaking as I carried three cups back toward Amy’s room.
My mind wouldn’t stop spinning around everything she said, along with the growing certainty that everything was building toward something I wasn’t ready for. After another hour of sitting with Amy and watching May play soft melodies, I finally left with Luz.
I pulled out my phone as I walked toward the exit and typed:
Me: Can we talk tonight, after I’m done recording my podcast? There’s this nurse at the hospital, and she said things I don’t understand. I think she might be a goddess, and I think she knows where my mother is.
His reply came seconds later:
Kian: Of course. Come by after you’re done. I’ll be home.
Luz and I worked in comfortable silence, both of us processing everything that had happened, as we set up for the podcast. I sat at my desk beside Luz, the mic settled between us. Luz adjusted the laptop’s audio levels.
“Ready when you are,” she said quietly.
I stared at the mic. Once I said these things out loud, there’d be no taking them back. This was lighting a signal fire that Cyrus would see.
Luz squeezed my hand. “You’ve got this.”
I took a breath. She hit record.
Soft ambient music began. I leaned close to the mic and spoke. The episode flowed easily: warnings about the clinical trial, the pattern of sickness, the authorities’ indifference, the need for students to protect each other when institutions wouldn’t.
By the time I finished, the message was clear: if no one will protect students, we will protect each other.
Luz stopped the recording, her eyes wide. “Holy shit, Mel. That was intense. The kind that makes people lean in.”
I wasn’t sure what scared me more: how true it felt, or how easy it had been to say. I started packing up. Luz, of course, didn’t miss a thing.
“Going to Kian’s?” she asked, smirking.
My ears burned. “I need to talk to him about what that nurse said. About my mom being trapped somewhere. He might know what that means.”
Luz’s expression shifted, teasing melting into concern. “Do you think she’s okay? Your mom?”
“I don’t know,” I admitted, throat tight. “But I need to figure out how to rescue her.”
Luz stood and pulled me into a hug. “We’re going to find her, amor. I promise. And if anyone can help you figure out how, it’s him.”
I nodded against her shoulder, holding on for a moment longer than necessary.
When I pulled back, I was already pulling out my phone to order an Uber. No way was I walking alone after dark.
“Be careful,” Luz said, watching me with worried eyes. “Text me when you get there.”
“I will.”
“And Mel?” She gave me a significant look. “La Madre de Bruja… if it’s her helping you, you’re in good hands. Hecate doesn’t guide people who she doesn’t think can handle the journey.”
“Hecate?” I asked, surprised.
Luz shrugged. “Crossroads, thresholds, magic. Who else would it be?”
“Maybe. I’ll ask Kian.”
“You do that,” Luz said. “And text me. I mean it.”
“I will,” I promised, heading for the door.
“And wear a condom!” She called after me.
I groaned. “Goodnight, Luz.”
I slid into the backseat of the Uber, tugging my bag onto my lap, exhaustion clinging to me like smoke.
The driver gave me a quick nod—professional and polite.
A male, maybe in his forties, wearing a baseball cap pulled low.
The little GPS screen was already lit up with Kian’s address plugged in.
It should’ve been ten minutes, maybe fifteen with traffic.
I leaned my head against the window, watching the city slide past: streetlights, storefronts, the familiar neon bleeding into November dark. Students stumbling out of bars, couples walking hand in hand, the normal pulse of a college town on a weeknight.