Page 63 of Spell Ya Later

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 ofCharmed?—”

“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 juststayed 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!”