34. Wild
Wild
New Year’s comes and goes. It’s never been my favorite holiday, but everything seems better with Ash around.
His dad even made his famous mac and cheese. Which in and of itself seems like a simple dish, but that man makes magic. I have no idea how or why, but I will never eat any other mac and cheese in my life.
I’m still thinking about the cheesy deliciousness as the older, wrinkly woman in front of us feeds another live cricket to her creepy lizard. Georgette is certainly a unique character.
Grandma assured us as we walked in that Dotty was friends with this woman and she was totally above board. But the way she’s baby talking this lizard has me side-eyeing the fuck out of her.
We must truly be desperate for information.
Or desperate in general.
“The lizard keeps staring at me,” Hazel whispers from my side. We’re sat together on the woman’s plastic-wrapped couch.
“That’s because it’s weird as fuck,” I whisper back.
She giggles and it’s normal and healthy and I don’t even mind the death glare Grandma shoots our way.
Even that is normal and healthy in a way that makes a little bloom of hope in my chest flare to life.
“You.” The woman’s curved, old-lady finger points at me as she approaches. “You’re the Fire witch.”
It’s not a question, but I nod all the same.
The plastic crackles as she sits down on an armchair across from us. “And you’re hearing voices from the flames.”
Jumping right into it, then. “Yes.”
“The voice of your mother?” She leans forward.
I nod. Yeah, lady, you have the overview.
“It’s not something I have extensive experience with, myself. It’s a very rare thing when the fire speaks to me. It means you have a lot of power within you that you hear them so often. And so clearly.”
Thanks for the compliment, but it’s not super encouraging somehow. Maybe it’s the haunted look in her so-icy-blue-they’re-almost-gray eyes. Maybe it’s the fear in the thin line of her mouth.
“What you hear are the souls in Hell, begging for your help to be released. It’s not surprising that you connected with your mother, as your souls already know each other. I expect the intention is to attempt to rescue her?”
Grandma’s hand is on her throat, rigid shoulders stock-still. “Yes, if possible.”
Georgette tries to smile at me. “I understand the urge behind wanting to save your mother. I’m not going to pretend I can talk you out of trying. But be careful. While you may go in to save one, many will try to use you as a bridge to get out. You don’t want to let them drag you down.”
“What—” Hazel visibly gulps at my side. “What happens if they drag her down? Drag us down?”
The woman’s face darkens. “You will lose your sister. She will become a vegetable, as good as dead. A mere shell as her soul is trapped in Hell forever.”
“Lovely,” I wheeze.
It’s not that I thought saving Mom was going to be easy by any means. But risking my own soul to save hers? Feels a bit fucking risky.
But she did it when the roles were reversed. She risked herself for us.
“I appreciate your time, Georgette. Is there anything else you can tell us?” Grandma’s keeping it together, but I can see she’s barely holding on to sanity right now.
She has to make a choice between risking me or losing her daughter forever.
And not just losing her, losing her to Hell. A fate much worse than anyone deserves.
Georgette leans back in her chair, crinkle crackling all the way. “Be careful. Be smart. And don’t follow the glowing lights, no matter how warm they may be.”
‘Don’t follow the glowing lights’ plays over and over again in my head as we drive home in silence.
No matter how warm.
I don’t think I even want to know what the lights are. Or what that means. No, I can pretty much guarantee I want nothing to do with any of that nonsense.
Don’t follow the glowing lights.
Even as Belle greets me at the door and the house moans and groans as we enter, that phrase repeats itself.
What kind of lights are in Hell? Other than fire, of course, but I get the distinct feeling that’s not what she was talking about.
Hazel keeps trying to pretend she’s not staring at me, but I’m so wrapped up in my own head that I don’t have the energy to call her out on it.
The three of us congregate in the living room almost by habit, coming together I’m sure to discuss what the fuck we just learned.
Which is that I’m most likely risking my life to save a woman who barely gave a shit about us. Who sacrificed her life for Noah. Who is also our mother.
Wild.
“Maybe there’s another way,” Hazel finally says, breaking the silence in the way only she can. “Maybe we don’t have to put Laura at risk to save Mom.”
The desperate, pleading eyes she throws to Grandma even have me feeling guilty, and I’m not the intended party.
Grandma shakes her head. “Saving people from Hell is not something done. Ever. It’s not written about, it’s not referenced, it’s simply not done. If there were another way, we would know.”
“But we didn’t even know Laura was hearing souls! Maybe there’s more to this witchy shit than the books know.”
“Or maybe . . .” I clear the panic out of my throat. “Maybe nobody as strong as me, or as strong as Mom, has come around before. Maybe this situation hasn’t happened before and we’re the guinea pigs. Maybe we have to figure this out for ourselves.”
Hazel’s face falls, hope seeping out of her faster than I’d like.
I sit taller, putting on my armor of false confidence I’m so familiar with. “Maybe we have to decide if risking me is worth the possibility of bringing her back.”
“But that’s not fair!” Hazel screams. The door to the backyard slams open in a furious gust of wind that rattles the hinges. Grandma puts her hand on Hazel’s, trying to calm her.
I shake my head because no, no it’s not fair. But it is what it is.
We sit in silence after Hazel’s outburst. I’ve already decided I’m saving her. That note solidified it. The fact that I’m risking my life doesn’t change anything.
“You won’t do it. If this is a democracy, then I vote no,” Hazel whispers. “If we risk you and it doesn’t work, then all we’ve done is lose both of you. And she isn’t worth it.”
“This isn’t a democracy. We may be a family, but I’m the one taking the risk, so I’m the one who gets to decide.” I make eye contact with my sister. The person who really tried to protect me for all these years. “And I know I won’t be able to live with myself if I don’t try.”
“But—” Hazel grabs my arm.
“Did you read the letter?”
Her mouth shuts. I can tell by the guilt in her eyes that she has, that it hasn’t changed her mind enough. That she still doesn’t want me to do this.
At the end of the day, if it were just me and her . . . I’m not sure what I would decide. But she didn’t get banished to Hell because she’s a bitch. She got banished because she saved someone’s life. She got banished for Hazel.
And that will eat away at me.
So buckle up, Mom. I’m coming.