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“StrangeDays”—ThreeDaysGrace
My heart and mind were a mess. With everything that had happened over the last few months, I was having a hard time keeping my shit together.
Niara helped me back to the room my mother was resting in, but halfway there, I had to rest against the wall. “Fucking hell,” I huffed as I cradled my side.
“You should’ve let that doctor guy look you over,” she chastised.
Lips pressed flat, I shook my head. “No point. Even if any of my ribs are broken, there’s nothing he could do for it.”
“I’m so sorry they got to you,” she said, her lower lip trembling. Her deep-red hair fell over her eyes as she bowed her head.
“Stop. I’m okay. Phoenix got to me in time.” Gently, I brushed her hair back. My normally spunky friend was beating herself up, and I hated that.
“But what if he hadn’t?”
“No. We’re not thinking about that. He did. That’s all that matters,” I firmly insisted.
She swallowed hard and bit the corner of her lip. Then she nodded. “You’re right. Come on.”
We opened the door as quietly as possible in case my mom was still sleeping.
“You’re hurt,” my mother immediately announced the second I walked in. She lay on her side facing the door, gaze narrowed as she studied me head to toe.
“Ugh. Not you too. I’m fine, Mom.”
“Are you sure? Because I don’t believe you. Where is that man of yours? He’ll tell me the truth. Besides, I didn’t get a chance to really meet him when I got here. Oh! Niara! Honey, I didn’t know you were here.” My mom smiled brightly despite her evident fatigue. “Have you met Sloane’s man yet?”
Niara pasted a wide smile on her face. “Oh yes. He’s… Mm, so pretty.”
“Pretty?” I scoffed.
“Oh yes,” Niara confirmed.
Unable to contain myself, I laughed. “Okay, yeah, he’s pretty. But I wouldn’t say he’s my man, though.”
My mother scoffed. “You know better than that.”
“No, Mom. I mean, yes, I know who he is, but that doesn’t mean he wants to be that person for me. There is such a thing as free will. Just because he’s a descendent of Lugh and fulfilled a prophecy, doesn’t mean he wants to be with me,” I argued.
“I call bullshit on that. I saw that kiss he gave you before we left my place for here. If that wasn’t a bold claim of your bodily person, I don’t know what was.” Niara grinned.
I rolled my eyes. “Enough about that crap,” I said, pretending I couldn’t feel my face heating. “We need to open the scrolls. Belinda let it slip that the answer to lifting your hex was in there. This is what we’ve been waiting for.” With hope in my heart, I gripped my mother’s hand.
Wisely, my mother held her tongue.
I reached over her for the backpack and unzipped the bright pink bag.
“Nice bag,” Niara teased.
“Hey. Beggars can’t be choosers. My choices were limited,” I shot back, suppressing a grin. That we were so close to lifting the hex on my mother had joy fluttering around in my chest. Carefully, I removed the snakewood wooden box. It was sanded smooth, and the surface shined from years of handling.
As I spoke the spell that would open the box, Niara dumped the contents of her witch’s bag on the bedspread. Once she had chosen the items she needed, she looked up at me.
“This is it.” My hand shook as I pushed the latch button over, and I practically jumped when the hasp snapped open. Reverently, I lifted the lid. The book that lay nestled in rich purple satin looked every bit of its innumerable years, yet it had a timeless quality to its worn leather, brass corner tips, and brass latch.
What had once been scrolls had at some time been cut into pages and bound in a latched book, much like an old diary.
Niara crouched in the center of the small room, where she drew a pentacle on the concrete floor. With calm ease, she saged the room, then set the sage, shell, and feather to the side. She lit dragon’s blood incense and placed it on the dilapidated dresser for protection.
