24. Warlocks
Chapter 24
Warlocks
I don’t hear anything from Laura or Mom again. Not when I can finally start walking, not when I move back to my apartment, not when I quit teaching art classes so I have more time to focus on magic and the store, not when I start training with Grandma again.
Nothing.
I bet Mom hasn’t told Laura anything about Botis or Draven, so she’s in the dark. My texts go unanswered.
So the fate of my family rests firmly on me. And Grandma.
At least Grandma is willing to help.
“Spells are for witches that don’t have much power,” she says as we sit cross-legged on the shop floor.
It’s Sunday—training day. The fourth since I recovered from my accident. I can now levitate on demand, summon air to whip around me in a disorienting torrent, and use it to deflect most attacks. All defensive abilities.
“Then why are there so many spellbooks?” I ask.
“Because there aren’t many families with our lineage.” Her chest puffs with pride. “The Pruitt women are an ancient line, and we are well respected in our community. It is quite rare to be able to trace your powers all the way to Salem.”
“Are we really so powerful?”
“Yes. We are. Why do you think Draven is so concerned about us? A line of women who grow stronger with each generation? I’m surprised he let us go for so long.”
“And he’s not a daemon? He’s a warlock?”
She sighs. She’s come up with excuses every time I’ve asked since Botis. She’s always had an excuse, or some reason to flee to another room. “He’s a warlock. A witch that turned.”
“And how does that happen?”
“Slowly. Magic isn’t inherently evil, but it is seductive. And it’s very easy to feel invincible, like there’s nothing you can’t do. That line of thinking can turn you, turn the magic, and before you know it you can’t recognize yourself anymore.”
Gears turn in my head. “And what happens when you become a warlock?”
“The lust for power becomes insatiable.” She rubs her temples. “Power becomes everything. And you are willing to do anything for that power. Hurt, maim, kill.”
“Hence why Draven came after us. He wanted our power.”
She nods. “I can’t...I can’t speak any more about it. My tongue is locked.”
“Locked? Grandma, why does your face do that whenever I ask about Dad or Draven?”
Her lips purse together as if she sucked on a lemon. “My face doesn’t do anything, and I would advise you not to suggest otherwise.”
A shiver goes down my spine at her tone. Sometimes I let myself forget how much I absolutely don’t want to mess with her.
She sighs. “I made a vow not to divulge the details of that evening. And I am unable to break that vow, no matter how much I regret making it.”
“A vow? You promised Mom?” So much makes sense. Grandma has never seemed scared of Mom, so I could never piece together why she never answered my questions. But a vow? Maybe even a magical vow? That would ensure Grandma could never tell me anything.
Just another way Mom is controlling my life.
She nods. “Let us continue.”
That conversation is done. If I ever want to really know what happened to Dad, I’m going to have to hear it from the horse’s mouth.
And that horse has chosen silence.
“Today, we are learning offense. We have gone over defense enough and I believe you’re ready for more offensive tactics.”
I practically wiggle on my pillow. After facing—and promptly getting my ass kicked by—Botis, I’m ready to learn how to defend myself. And to kick ass in return.
Even if I can’t kick Botis’s ass because Draven beat me to the punch.
“Stop that. You must center yourself, Hazel. And part of that is knowing when to calm down.”
She’s pissy about Mom and taking it out on me. Has been ever since Mom stormed out of her house.
“Yes, Grandma.”
“It’s all about connecting to your element, then manifesting what you want to happen.” She closes her eyes and opens her palms toward the floor. “For me, I am connecting to the earth. In situations where I must be offensive toward an attacker, I imagine the roots of trees coming up and tying them to the ground. How can the air, the wind, assist you in debilitating your attacker?”
I close my eyes. How can I offensively use the air? I snort. God, this is so weird. Normal people worry about things like work , and I’m over here trying to figure out how to debilitate an attacker using my little witchy magic.
“ Hazel ,” Grandma snaps.
Right, right. Focusing.
I could trap someone in a vortex, like a little mini-tornado. I call the wind, the air, as I’ve learned to do from our lessons. I open my eyes and manifest. Direct my power toward the training dummy on the other side of the room. Trap that dummy!
The wind whooshes through my hair, whipping the auburn strands around my face, and swirls around the dummy. It’s not a full vortex, but it’s something.
“Do you think I could defeat Draven?”
So much for letting that conversation go. She has to know that Draven won’t rest until he kills all of us, and that I won’t rest until he’s gone instead. There’s only two ways this all pans out and she’s smart enough to know that. Despite Mom’s denial, I would expect even she knows that.
“On your own?” She snorts. “No.”
“But I thought you said I was powerful!” Am I pouting?
Her eyes narrow. “You are powerful. But no one is all-powerful. You would need help even just to banish him, let alone defeat him.”
“There’s a difference?”
“Sometimes I forget how little you know.” It’s not unkind, the way she says it, but it still pokes at the little place inside me that hates that I know nothing. I was useless against Botis, and I may be just as useless against Draven even after a month of training. “You can banish a warlock or daemon from Earth. They are returned to their world. To Hell. And it takes power and time to return to Earth. Although some don’t return at all.” She rubs at that same spot on her temple again as if she’s trying to force away a migraine. “It’s not a permanent solution, but it can be an advantageous one when fighting something more powerful than you. Time is not to be taken for granted. Time can mean the difference between success and defeat.”
I know the importance of time. I’ve lost so much precious time and I’m like a hamster on a wheel trying to catch up—to make up for it.
“Do you plan to help me?” Maybe it’s an aggressive question, but at this point she’s my only potential ally. Laura probably doesn’t even know what’s going on, and is at the same disadvantage as I am. She knows even less about her magic than I do. Mom? Ha! As if she’d help me. She’s proven time and time again that I mean nothing to her anymore.
Grandma looks at me. Her face is an impartial, unfeeling mask as she just looks at me. Seconds turn to a full minute and I’m squirming where I sit.
“Our family is at risk,” she finally says. “I would not allow you to go up against Draven on your own. It is obvious he will continue trying to pick us off one by one if nothing is done about him.”
I resist the urge to do a victory fist pump. While I may be trying to catch up, Grandma has had all the time in the world to refine her powers. I know she and I can do this together.
“But—”
Oh, shit.
“We will need your sister and your mother. You and I can’t do this on our own.”
I was afraid she’d say that. Way to harsh my mood, Grandma.
“Do you still talk to either of them?” Part of me wants her to still be talking to Laura at least, but the other part knows it would hurt if it’s just me that’s been iced out. Laura was my life for so long, and being left on ‘read’ is hurtful.
A sad smile breaks on her face. “Laura texts me from time to time. Your mother less so, but she’s responsive.”
“That’s more than I have. If you want them to help us, I think it’s up to you.” My hands ball into fists. “Neither of them seem to care what I have to say.”
“There is so much hurt here, on both sides. I can try to be the bridge as I have always done, but even I am limited. Someone will need to take the first step and be vulnerable and allow the others back in.” Her hand lands on mine in what I assume is meant to be reassuring.
It’s not. It’s just infuriating.
“Why is it always me? Why am I always the one to take the first step and do something? What about Mom? What about Laura? I almost died and neither one of them has bothered to check on me and see if I’m okay. We’ve been threatened by the warlock that killed our father and neither one of them is trying to come up with a plan. You are the only one willing to help me and I can tell it’s reluctantly.” I ignore the flash of pain my words cause her and press on. “Why is everyone in this family so content to sit back and do nothing while we’re being hunted? If I died, would you all clam up and pretend nothing happened, just like Dad? It’s disgusting how his memory has been treated. His death was in vain, and at this rate mine will be, too.”
My chest heaves.
Her mouth gapes open like a fish, but no words come out. Only silence.
That’s just like this family. Everything is silence.
If it’s up to me, then it’s up to me. I’ll figure out how to defeat Draven on my own, I’ll figure out how to avenge Dad on my own, and I’ll figure out how to keep all of us alive in the meantime.
On. My. Own.
“I’m done with this.” I stand, wiping invisible dust off my pants. “I’ll see you later, Grandma. Hopefully I haven’t been murdered by then.”