Page 68 of Spell Ya Later

“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 likework, 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 evensheknows 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 thanyou. 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.