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Feeling absolutely dead in my arms.
My throat closes up as I turn around, walking through the pile of debris, careful with each step I take.
Once we make it to the car, Levi opens the trunk, and I lay Hazel down as carefully as possible.
“Why isn’t she waking up?” I growl.
“We have to get her to her mom and grandma. They’ll know what to do,” Vera says as she opens the passenger side door.
Everyone hops into the car, and I slide in beside Hazel, crouching down beside her, my hand around her throat. The only solace I’m finding is her beating heart.
We pull up to Hazel’s house, and Malik turns the car off, popping the trunk.
I slip out, grabbing Hazel in my arms just as the front door opens, her mom and grandma rushing out.
My blood.
The grandma gives me a look, and I know, I instantly know, that she knows. She knows that I fucking know.
“Oh my God. I knew it! I could feel it the moment it happened!” her mom shrieks, tears instantly flooding her eyes.
“What do we do?” I plead, feeling so fucking helpless it’s tearing me in two.
“Bring her inside,” her grandmother snaps, turning around and rushing into the house.
We all race inside after her, and her mom goes to the living room, pushing the couches aside. “Lay her down on the floor. Gently!” she shouts, wiping the constant flow of tears from her eyes.
I get down on my knees, and Vera tosses me a pillow as I lay her down, popping her head on the pillow.
Her grandmother races around, grabbing everything and anything she needs from the kitchen, filling her arms until she can’t hold anything else. Hobbling over to the living room, Hazel’s mom takes things from her arms, and they start working.
They place candles and crystals and jars of… what, seasoning? I don’t know what any of it is, or what any of it means, but I’ll take a fucking witch doctor at this point if it means Hazel survives.
It should bother me that we share the same blood. That our history has and always will bind us together. It should make me hate her, just as strongly as I did when she told me the truth of our past.
But watching her nearly come apart into pieces in front of me flipped a switch, and I don’t want her to be my enemy. I don’t care about the past. We are not the past.
We are the future.
Her ferociousness, her tenacity, the way she’s able to make me angry and turn me on. How humble she is, and how she cares about her friends, and the earth, and everyone around her. How she never lets me push her down, even though I know I’m cruel as fuck.
Hazel is something else entirely, and she’s indefinitely mine.
Her mother lights the candles, while her grandma grabs a wooden bowl, pouring a million different ingredients into it and mixing it around with a wooden spoon. Then, she mashes her thumb into the pile of dust, bringing it to her forehead and swiping it across her skin.
Again, her finger goes into the bowl, and she reaches out, swiping her finger against her granddaughter’s chest, directly over her heart.
Finally, she does it once more, and bending down, she swipes another swath of dust across Hazel’s injured hand, just below the wrist.
The grandma turns to me, her eyes boring directly into my soul. “My granddaughter was brave today in defeating the evil in Castle Pointe. Once again, the dead have risen, and once again, it has been cast back down to hell. I knew from the moment the portal was opened; it would be Hazel that would be the savior. Though I wish I could’ve protected her more, she wouldn’t have gained the strength she has running through her blood at this very moment.”
“Can you fix her?” I ask. That’s the only thing that’s important. Fix her. Fix my fucking girl.
She smiles, setting the bowl down. “You like my granddaughter, Felix Port?”
I frown.How the hell does she know my name?
“It’s more than that, Mother,” her mom chastises.
