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“I can help,” I tell her.

“I don’t need help from you!”

“Your leg says otherwise,” I say.

“Nope I am fine, you can go now.”

“Please help her,” Peter asks, and she smacks him up the back of the head.

“Be quiet boy,” she tells him, venom in her voice. Wendy squeezes another orange into the glass, and I turn around, my back to Peter. Reaching for the glass I take it from her. I slice my hand and Wendy looks at me.

“She won’t drink your blood,” she says looking at my hand in horror.

“She will if she doesn’t know,” I whisper as I see her look over her shoulder at her mother. I let my blood drip into the glass, and the juice darkens slightly. I rinse my hand sliding the glass back to her. I point to the oranges, and she squeezes more into the glass. I turn, facing Lucy who has a scowl on her face as Peter fusses over her leg.

“The pills?” Wendy asks her son, and he grabs them from his pocket. Wendy reads the label while taking two out and handing them to her mother along with the juice.

“I don’t need them.”

“Grandma, Victor made them, not Abbie”

“She has a thing against Witches?” I ask. Peter shakes his head.

“No, just Jackie, Abbie’s mom, old grudge,” he says with an eye roll.

“That old wench stole my first husband!” Lucy snaps, “I don’t want nothing from her devil spawn.” I chuckle at her words, shaking my head.

Wendy and I hold our breath as she tips the glass to her lips, popping the pills in her mouth. She drinks the juice, making a face.

“Something wrong with those oranges, foul-tasting,” she says. Peter gasps at her words, looking at me in indignation.

“What is it, boy?” she says. She looks down noticing her leg.

“You! What did you do?” she says, her eyes snapping to me as she points her wrinkly finger at me.

“Dragon voodoo,” I tell her, and she presses her lips in a line.

“See all better, you should say thank you,” Wendy tells her and her mother glares at her.

“Thank you,” says Wendy, turning to me when her mother stands up grabbing her walking stick only she realizes she doesn’t need it. Instead, she brandishes it like a weapon.

“You old dinosaur,” she says.

“Dragon,” I tell her with a chuckle as she advances toward me. Peter grabs my hand, pulling me from the room as his grandmother follows quite quickly for an old duck brandishing her weapon like it’s a sword.

“Quick she will actually do what she says, you want that up your ass?” Peter says, and I chuckle, he is truly scared of the old bat. I follow him out the door while Wendy tries to calm her mother and cops a whack with the walking stick.

“Mom,” I hear her sing out as we flee out the door.

We walk back to the castle.

“Thank you for helping her. She can be mean, but she is really nice most of the time,” Peters says.

“She is old, she is allowed to be mean. Kind of reminds me of Marian,” I tell him, and he nods.

“Do you miss her, she worked at the castle for years?” he asks.

“Yes, she was a good woman,” I tell him, and he nods.