Page 53 of Witchy Woman

My eyes burn with tears as I try to wrap my head around this. If only I could have kept the connection up longer. Why couldn’t I? Where is she?

“Come,” Grandma whispers, taking my hand in hers. “Come inside, dear.”

“Here, dear. Drink this.”

Grandma stuffs a warm mug in my hands, but nothing compares to the heat of the fire. The lick of the flames.

Everything else is cold in comparison.

I lift the concoction to my lips, wrinkling my nose at the smell. “What the hell is in this?”

“Best not to ask about Grandma’s teas. They usually taste awful—no offense—but do exactly what you need them to,” Hazel says. She’s a solid fifteen feet away from me and I can tell it’s not because I smell.

It’s because of what I said.

Her arms hug around herself as if trying to build a wall against whatever the hell she’s feeling. Fear, if I had to guess, based on the way her eyes keep darting around. She’s like a deer in the woods, easily spooked and careful.

“Now, if you can, tell us what happened,” Grandma says. Her voice is calm, but she can’t hide the terror in her eyes. The what-the-fuck energy we’re all feeling.

Bitter fluid slides over my tongue and I do my best not to spit it out. However it tastes, I’m sure it’s worth it.

I clear my throat of the ball of emotion lodged inside. “I could hear Mom.”

Hazel gasps, clutching herself even tighter.

“At first, it was just a voice asking for help. But then the voice said my name; it called me Laura. I knew it was Mom. How could I not? She apologized and then I lost her.”

“You lost her?” Grandma asks, hand on mine. She grips me too tight, her eyes wild. But I don’t ask her to let go.

I nod. “I couldn’t hear her anymore. I wasn’t connected anymore.”

“How is this possible?” Hazel whispers. “We watched her get devoured in a Hell-destined ball of water with an obsessed warlock.”

“She needs help.” I squeeze Grandma in return. She has to believe me. “We have to help Mom.”

“I haven’t heard of something like this before,” Grandma says.

It’s unsettling that I’ve found the one thing she hasn’t seen—she prides herself on never being surprised by anything.

“Are we really considering the possibility Mom is—what—alive and trapped in Hell?” Hazel asks, throwing her hands up in the air.

Frustration boils over. “Are you calling me a fucking liar?”

Before Hazel can open her mouth, the front door bangs open. It jumps on the hinges and slams against the wall. The house groans in reply, annoyed at the slight damage that probably did.

Ash stands there, head swiveling until he meets my gaze. “There you are.”

I shouldn’t immediately want to jump his bones. But damn, the protectiveness in this man’s eyes does things to me.

He strides over with confidence, with purpose. I’m the purpose.

“Are you okay? You disappeared for a few minutes. Literally disappeared, as if you weren’t here anymore, and I’ve never felt—” he cuts himself off by pressing a kiss to my forehead. He lingers after, pressing his nose to the top of my head. “Scared the shit out of me.”

“I’m okay,” I reply. Has anyone given this much of a damn about me before?

Grandma hums. “Seems I was right all along.”

I glare at her from around Ash’s hulking form, but it does nothing. Despite her words, both her and Hazel are staring at me with mouths open. They’ve never seen me like this with someone before.