Chapter 17
A MIDNIGHT SNACK
ELLIOT
Mama watches me with detached curiosity as I treat her the following morning. We stand in her office, surrounded by ancient texts and various documents for the upcoming, annual witch council meeting. Heads from all different covens will attend, and Mama will be at the forefront of it all.
Fielding questions.
Planning budgets.
Assigning roles.
And, most notably, pretending she isn’t dying.
“Well?” she asks.
I have her hand clasped between mine as I rotate her arm between us. Dull grey flesh stretches from her wrist to deep beneath her long sleeves. The darkened skin is dry and flaking, and something tells me the decay goes far beneath the surface.
She’s already had three vials of blood this week.
“It’s not enough,” I say. My voice cracks, but I’m quick to clear it, to steady my next words. My emotions won’t get me anywhere, earnest as they may be. “You’re dying, Mama.”
“Slower than I was,” she says. She stares at her arm, attention only briefly flicking to my face before returning. “You’ve done well, Elliot. Better than I dared to hope.”
“You’re dying,” I repeat. I release her hand, chest clenching as she tugs her sleeve back into place. Like this, she doesn’t look sick. She looks normal. Powerful.
How much longer until it’s everywhere? How much longer until it kills her?
“You need to come to the clinic,” I say. I step back, putting distance between us, doing my best to look at her, not as my mama, but as an extremely sick patient. “This isn’t enough. Once we get a better idea—”
“The annual meeting is in two weeks,” Mama says.
She lets out a breathy laugh and brushes a strand of graying hair over her shoulder.
Even in the face of death, she’s fearless, and I hate it.
“There’s too much to do, Elliot. Besides, I already told you I won’t go to the clinic.
As soon as people know, I’ll lose any semblance of control. ”
Don’t you want to stay? I want to scream. Why am I fighting when you’re not?
“You’re going to lose your control or your life, Mama,” I say through a tight jaw. “I think it’s clear which you should prioritize.”
“My life belongs to the Mother,” she says. She offers a soft smile now, but it’s far from comforting. It’s a punch in the stomach, a slap to the face. It’s every form of physical pain, wrapped into the minimal tilt of her lips.
“I’ll put together a team,” I say. When she opens her mouth to interrupt, I only speak faster.
Louder. “They’ll come to my house. They won’t know the reason.
I’ll have them diagnose you. I’ll get enough Dismemrate for the lot of them, and they’ll forget it ever happened.
No one will know, Mama. All right? So let’s—”
“Since when do you condone Dismemrate?” she asks.
It’s an illegal drug, so normally I wouldn’t. Maybe it’s my tentative alliance with Cora Reed that’s messed with my head. Or maybe it’s my aggravating, stubborn mother who won’t accept help, even when I’m desperate to give it.
“Mama,” I say. “You can’t put me through this. All right? You’re all I have here, and—”
A sharp knock on the door cuts through my pathetic rant.
“Come in,” Mama calls. She doesn’t breathe out in relief, and that, more than anything, makes me realize just how hopeless my arguing is. For Mama, it doesn’t matter what I do or say. There’s nothing to sway her stubborn mind—she’s merely letting me vent like she would when I was a child.
I grit my teeth as the council’s attendant steps through the office door. Her ringlets are tighter than I remember. Her glasses bigger. Her curled lip more pronounced.
“Madam Lyrie,” Vera says. Then, nodding to me, “Mister Elliot.”
“Yes?” Mama asks. In a quick movement that Vera likely doesn’t notice, but I sure as hells do, she checks her sleeves. She only looks up once she’s confirmed her decaying skin is hidden.
“Mister Rierson is here for you,” Vera says. She glances at me with a fake, apologetic grimace, before looking back. “For your ten o’clock.”
“I’ll come to him,” Mama says. She rises from her chair, crossing the room in a few strides. I tell myself I’m imagining it, but I’m certain she’s walking differently. Staggered, almost, as though in pain.
“Mama—”
“We’ll continue this next week,” she says. She places her hands on my face, soft fingers splaying either side of my jaw. “You have to trust me, Elliot.”
I glance over her shoulder, confirming Vera is gone.
“We might not have that long,” I say. “It’s spreading. With the medicine I’m giving, it shouldn’t possibly be spreading. But it is. We don’t have time.”
Mama doesn’t immediately reply. She keeps her hands on the edges of my face, her eyes carefully looking over my features. She’s looking at me like it might be the last time. There’s no fear in her expression, only nauseating acceptance.
It makes my eyes burn, and before I can stop it, tears leak down my cheeks.
“I’ll meet Mister Rierson in the lobby. It’ll take at least thirty minutes,” she says quietly. “Collect yourself, Elliot. Don’t make a scene here. Understand?”
Then, she’s gone, and I’m alone in her office, surrounded by the smell of her perfume and black tea and brutal complacency.
“Coward,” I whisper. Not sure if I mean it, not sure if it’s fair.
I glance up at the clock on the wall, then at my bag on the floor. Thirty minutes is a long time. I look at the clock again. The bag. The rows of books and documents. The locked desk drawers and filing cabinets.
This place has always been a treasure trove, but for the first time in my life, I see the potential. There isn’t just history in these books; there are clues. Keys to old curses…and perhaps a cure for the woman who made them.
I arrive to the Lyrie Healing Center just after eleven.
There are stacks upon stacks of paperwork waiting on my desk, but I ignore them.
Prior to my visit with Mama, I’d intended to catch up on all the work I’ve put off.
Now, I take the stairs two at a time, not so much as glancing at my office door.
Instead, I run all the way to the seventh floor, crashing into the break room with the grace of a freshly winged harpy.
It’s empty.
“Dammit,” I mutter.
Henry was scheduled for a nine o’clock surgery, and I hoped he’d be done by now.
I pace the room while I wait, then find a stack of blank parchment and sit at the rough table. I scrawl one idea after another, tossing each rejected scrap to the tiled floor. By the time I have a fully-formed plan, I’ve used up all of the parchment.
“Oh for Mother’s sake…”
I jolt, looking up from the table to find Henry standing in the doorway. He’s wearing a bloodied surgeon’s coat, his transparent face mask hanging around his neck. His eyes are half-open, dark bags beneath them.
“Rough surgery?” I ask. I glance at his vibrating hands, at the magic that’s undoubtedly been stripped from his skin.
“What are you doing, Elliot?” he asks, rather than answering. He disposes of his surgical attire as he looks over my discarded mess of parchment.
“I figured it out,” I say. My hands are stained with blank ink, and I’m sure I look about as disturbed as he does. I hold the final piece of parchment on the table, pinching it between my thumb and index finger. “The sunwalker spell. I know how to mass produce it.”
Henry grimaces and looks over his shoulder, as if expecting someone to be behind him. He’s right to be cautious, and yet, I can’t bring myself to care. My entire world has imploded in the past few weeks, and not even imprisonment would make it worse.
“Since when was that part of your plan?” he asks.
He takes a careful step toward me, and his expression is so timid it’s almost comical.
The brave and reckless Henry looks mortified by me, and if it weren’t such a shit situation, maybe I’d laugh.
“Mass sunwalker spells, Elliot? That’s past the point of a fair trade. ”
“Mama thinks the Mother is punishing her for the sun curse, right?” I say, ignoring him. “We can’t undo it, obviously, but we can stop the harm. Maybe, if we make the vampires mortal in sunlight—rather than dead—the Mother will forgive her.”
“Elliot—”
“I know it sounds crazy,” I interrupt. “But she won’t be seen in the clinic.
She won’t be seen at my house. She’s determined to let the Mother decide, so fine.
We’ll let the Mother decide. I’m just going to make that decision a little easier.
Once the curse isn’t actively killing people, the Mother will have mercy. She will.”
I sound like an absolute deranged lunatic, but I don’t care. I look away from Henry to go over my notes again.
“This will undermine your mama’s life work,” Henry says slowly. He’s reached the side of the table now, bumping it gently as he looks over my work.
Good, I want to say. Maybe it will give her a reason to stay.
I swallow, pressing my tongue against the back of my teeth, trying to keep in the words I’ve wanted to say for too long. Yes, I want Mama to live. And yes, I’d love to be the one to keep her here. More than that though…
“They’re people, Henry,” I say. I stare at the parchment, rather than him, as I speak. “Maybe they’re terrible. Maybe they deserved it. But it’s been twenty years. They’ve paid long enough.”
“Your mama would disagree.”
“I know,” I say.
There’s a heavy silence between us. I’m not sure why I’m telling Henry all of this. When I first came here, I’d wanted his help in forming a solution. Now that I’ve figured it out on my own, there’s no reason to stay. I don’t need him for any of this, but I continue speaking all the same.
“I’m going to work out a trade with Cora,” I say. “All of my memories for a widespread sunwalker spell. She won’t be able to say no.”