22. Nothing
Chapter 22
Nothing
T he light is what wakes me. It burns even with my eyes shut.
Voices follow. Grandma, Laura, Mom.
Mom?
Despite their heaviness, I blink through the pain and open my eyelids. I’m in Grandma’s cottage, presumably in her bedroom. The floral wallpaper extends to this room, which is about the same size as my bedroom in my apartment.
“She’s awake,” Laura says, a mix of relief and something else in her tone. She’s standing in the open doorway, soon joined by both Grandma and Mom.
Grandma approaches first, sitting down next to me on the royal-purple bedspread. Mom lingers in the doorway. If I thought she was closed off the day I left, well, she’s outdoing herself now. Her shoulders are square, her posture rigid. She’s barely even looking at me.
“How do you feel, sweetheart?” Grandma asks. She waves her hand over my face, a healing warmth emanating from her spread fingers.
I instinctively lean toward it, as if it can burn away the pain. “Like shit.” My voice is hollow and breathy.
Laura snorts from the corner of the room. “No shit, bitch. You got your ass beat.”
“Laura.” Mother’s voice makes the Earth stop spinning for a second. I’ve never heard her sound like that. Sharp and callous, as emotionless as her face. Laura shrinks back into her corner, arms wrapped around herself.
“Laura has a point,” I say. Even now, I revel in the way Mom’s nostrils flare at my response. I hope that pissed you off.
Grandma’s face falls, the disappointment rolling off her in waves. “Not now, girls, please. I’ll go make you some tea, Hazel. Sarah, join me.”
Surprisingly, Mom follows her out of the room and closes the door behind her.
I lean back and close my eyes against the headache that pounds under my eyelids. I must have a concussion; I hit that tree too many damn times to come out unscathed.
“What were you thinking ? ” Laura’s voice holds a fresh disappointment that cuts through my heart like the daemon cut through my skin. She’s hurt. She’s scared.
And I did that. Not anyone else.
Me.
But I can’t answer her question. I don’t think she’d understand even if I tried.
“Who found me?” I ask instead, meeting her gaze.
Laura’s eyebrows furrow. “Grandma. She has some sort of magical protection spell on us, apparently. She sensed you were in danger when he first hit you. The children helped her narrow down your location. She grabbed a few other people and stormed into the forest.”
That’ll do it.
“Ah.”
“Ah?” She scoffs. “Ah, she says. Like you didn’t give us all a fucking heart attack. Like you didn’t give us all PTS-fucking-D from when Dad died. A fucking demon, Hazel. Are you an idiot?”
“I believe it’s daemon, with an ‘a’,” I snap. The overwhelming guilt has my walls up. I don’t want to face her, so I drop my eyes to my hands instead.
“No, Hazel, it’s idiot with an ‘i’.”
My head pounds. The combination of the concussion, whatever spells Grandma put on me, and the bruises threatening to blur my vision.
That could also be the tears.
“You just don’t understand,” I whisper.
She throws her hands in the air. She has dried blood under her fingernails. Is that my blood? “What don’t I understand? What is it that caused you to throw yourself at death like you’re invincible?”
“I don’t know!” I can’t focus on the pain in her face. The floodgates have opened and I can’t stop the rushing of words. “Did I have a moment where I could’ve turned around? Where I could’ve grabbed other people to help those kids? Maybe. But I didn’t do it. I chose to do it myself. What does it matter anyway? I don’t have a life.”
Each word burns my lungs, but I can’t stop. “You have friends , Laura, you’re going to college, you have everyone wrapped around your finger—you have me wrapped around your finger. Have you ever wondered what it feels like to not have any of that? To not know what the hell you’re doing at any given moment and never feeling like you belong anywhere? That nothing you do means anything?” My fingers dig into the heels of my hands. “The only things I have are anger and a desire to protect my family, and I saw...I saw children who needed to be protected the way we needed to be protected. I saw children and I saw us and...I don’t know, Laura. I don’t know what you want me to say.”
Her eyes fill with tears, her hand coming up to hold her cheek as if she’s been slapped. “Is that what we are to you? Nothing? Mom, Grandma, me, Noah? We’re all nothing to you?”
Shit.
“Laura, that’s not?—”
“No, it’s exactly what you meant. If I mean so little to you, you won’t mind if I leave.”
I try to lift myself out of bed to follow her, but it’s as if my muscles are filled with lead. She’s gone before I even get a finger to move.
And I know she’s not coming back.
I don’t deserve for her to come back.
I didn’t mean that they meant nothing. I meant that they mean everything and I’ve never had anything for me. Not since Noah.
Shit. Noah.
How long have I been out? What day is it?
I turn toward the bedside table. Where’s my phone? There’s just a glass of water and a clock that doesn’t work.
“Don’t strain yourself,” Grandma says softly as she opens the bedroom door. Despite everything, I smile at the two steaming mugs of tea bobbing along behind her.
“What day is it?” I croak. I hold my hands out for the mug and it settles calmly in my grip. The scent of peppermint dances in the steam wafting from the cup.
Grandma pulls a chair beside the bed and sits in it delicately. “Friday.”
Ouch. Sitting up too quickly is a no-no. “I was out that long?”
“Unfortunately your wounds were extensive. We needed you sedated for the healer to work.”
“Where’s my phone? Noah must be worried sick.”
Grandma hands me my phone from her pocket. “I texted him for you. I told him you weren’t feeling well and were going to crash at your grandma’s house. He has checked in a few times and I’ve kept him updated. He’s quite the sweetheart.”
“Thank you. I won’t ask how you got past my password.”
“Best not to.” She pats my leg underneath the blanket. “When you’re feeling up to it, we really should discuss what happened.”
I blow out a dramatic breath. “Must we?”
“We must.”
“If we must, can we do it later? The cold shoulder from Mom gave me freezer burn.”
Grandma chuckles. “Of course. Rest up.”
She leaves me alone with my phone, closing the door behind her. I want to text Noah but the combination of the peppermint tea, the concussion, and the warm bed is too tempting to resist.
The next time my eyes flutter open, the sun sits lower in the sky. Not exactly dusk, but it’s long past noon. A few hours then. Rosie sleeps at the end of the bed like a little watch-cat, keeping me safe.
I’d be surprised if Laura were still here. The look in her eyes haunted my dreams during my brief nap. The way she reared back as if I had physically struck her with my words.
She doesn’t understand. She doesn’t get that I couldn’t turn my back on those kids, even to get proper help. She doesn’t get that it felt good—despite the fact I almost died—to have a purpose. Even for one moment.
To know that what I was doing was the right thing.
I sigh, shaking my head. There are some things we may never see eye to eye on.
It sucks that she doubts how much I love her. That she doubts how much she means to me. I would do anything for her. I’m trying to help her. I’m trying to get stronger so I can find this daemon who killed our chance at being a true, happy family. I’m doing this for her.
A nagging voice in the back of my head says I’m doing this for myself.
Maybe it’s both.
Noah: I miss you.
Noah: How are you feeling? It’s been almost a week and I’m not going to lie, I’m worried about you.
What up, soulmate? God, I haven’t even seen him since that revelation. But explaining my magic, my history, and our soulmate status to Noah is at the bottom of my list right now. He deserves to know, but I honestly don’t even know where to begin with that.
It’s a conversation that’s just going to have to wait until I can actually sit up without wincing.
Hazel: I miss you, too. This flu is a nasty one, but I’m on the up and up. Hopefully I can see you next weekend.
Granted, by next weekend I’ll still have bruises, cuts, and whatever else is under these sheets that I’m too scared to look at. Lord knows Noah will have an opinion on that.
Hi honey. Oh, these bruises? Cuts? Slashes? Scars? They’re nothing. Just remnants of the flu.
That’ll go over well.
Noah: Whenever you’re ready. I just appreciate you keeping me updated. Let me know if there’s anything I can do. Nonna Ricci makes a badass chicken noodle soup.
I have the best soulmate. Truly.
“How are you feeling?” The door to the bedroom opens, revealing Grandma holding a tray. She’s loaded it with her own chicken noodle soup and a steaming mug of tea.
I shrug, the movement making me wince. “I think that’s answer enough.”
She smiles, placing the tray on my lap. She assists me until I’m sitting up against the pillows resting against the wood headboard.
“Grandma, can witches do glamours?”
Grandma arches an eyebrow in reply. Despite being the target of it most of the time, I truly do respect the woman’s sass.
“I was watching this one episode of Charmed ?—”
“If you are about to compare our ancient magic to a television show...” Her gaze sharpens. “Don’t.”
Okay then. Message received.
“I’d like to see Noah soon, but I have some wounds that would be difficult to describe. And I’m not necessarily ready to have the ‘I’m a witch’ conversation. Is there a way to magically hide them?”
“Ahh, I understand. Yes, there is. I can assist you once you’re feeling up to it.” She picks up the spoon and hands it to me.
Each reach forward is excruciating, but I know I need to get moving. I’ve watched enough medical dramas to know that moving around after a serious injury is important. Thanks, Grey’s Anatomy .
She clears her throat after I take a few slurps of soup. “I’d like to know what happened, Hazel.”
I swallow a little too quickly and end up coughing up soup. Note to self, coughing while injured? Not a good thing. My entire body aches by the time my lungs stop seizing up.
“I have a question first.”
“If you must,” she says.
“I must.” I take a deep breath. Ouch. “What happened to Botis?”
“He’s gone. The intention was to question him, but...” Fear haunts her eyes as she stares at my soup. “He was destroyed before we could get our hands on him. Something did not want him talking.”
The name Botis said. What was it?
“Draven,” I whisper.
The candle on the dresser in the corner extinguishes in a flash of water, and all sound along with it. I half expect the house to start rumbling and explode.
“Where did you hear that name?” my mother hisses from the doorway.
Ah, so she’s still here.
If looks could kill, I would be an eviscerated pile of dust right now. Her face is thunder, darkness threatening to swallow anything good forever.
“He sent Botis. I was supposed to be a message to the family.”
Lightning strikes right outside my window and my body jumps involuntarily.
Grandma stands, approaching Mom like a baby gazelle might approach a hungry lion. “Sarah, she doesn’t know. She’s just telling us the truth.”
The death stare moves from me to Grandma, but Grandma stands tall. Confident. Unflinching as she continues moving toward Mom.
“Who is Draven?” I ask. I realize I’m pushing my luck, but I already almost died. And I’m feeling feisty after being stuck unconscious in this bed for a week.
Grandma’s shoulders visibly tense, her mouth opening and closing as if she wants to speak but physically can’t. “I cannot... tell you.”
“Why? Mom, who is Draven?” I have a tingling in my gut, not just from my injury. A feeling like I know exactly who Draven is. But I want to hear her say it. “Who is he?”
“Sarah, if she’s right then she deserves to know. They both do. It could be the difference between life and death.” Grandma finally reaches Mom, putting a hand on her shoulder.
Mom shakes it off, the storm still brewing in her eyes and outside. Rain pounds against the windows. “Fine. But none of this would have happened if you would have just stayed home. ”
Her words hit me like the killing blow. She’s blaming me for the danger our family is in. Anger flares in my belly, causing my cheeks to heat and my hands to shake.
“Keep telling yourself that. But if you hadn’t hidden magic from me for my entire life, I might not have almost died. I would have been able to defend myself, not just sit there like a harmless rabbit. My death would’ve been your fault and I’m guessing Dad’s was, too!”
The storm turns to despair as Mom’s eyes well up with tears.
Good. My anger wants her to hurt just as much as she’s hurt me over the years. Just as much as I did when he died.
“Draven killed your father and now he’s returned to kill the rest of us.”
With that, she turns and leaves. The second family member to do the same to me in just a few hours.
Shit.
“That could’ve gone better,” I whisper, trying to inject some sort of levity into all this.
Grandma shakes her head. “Not now, Hazel.”
Now I really do have nothing, and it’s all my fault.