Ghost Light

home in a long time.

Footsteps sounded inside and my mother opened the door, blinking in the morning sun.

“Ivy?” she asked.

“Hi, mom,” I said.  “Um, can I come in?”

“Of course, come inside,” she said.  “I was just making a second pot of coffee.”

My mother drank thick, black coffee like the stuff was ambrosia.  In fact, it was the one thing we’d had in common all these years.  I followed her down the hallway to the kitchen at the back of the house.

My mother looked thinner than I remembered and I made a mental note to invite her over for dinner.  I didn’t usually have guests over, had never invited anyone up to the loft until Ceff, but I’d make an exception for my mother.  Seeing the sharp jut of her collarbone and the bony points of her shoulders through her cardigan made my throat tighten.

I hadn’t been fair to my mother.  She’d been unable to tell me the truth about my father and so I’d formed my own opinions.  I’d judged this woman based on years of seeing her sad eyes and frowning lips without ever asking why she was so miserable.  I’d assumed it was because of me.  I resented my mother because I thought she hated the person I’d become when I came into my gift.  I figured that having a freak for a daughter had made her bitter.

I hadn’t seen the woman mourning the loss of her first love.  By misjudging my mother, I’d pushed her away and forced the loss of the one connection she had left to my father.  I’d been my usual hot-headed, stubborn self.  I hoped it wasn’t too late to fix things between us.  By my own ignorance, my mother had lost not only a lover, but a daughter too.

She pulled two mugs down from the cupboard and pulled the coffee pot from the burner.  I swallowed hard and cleared my throat.

“Is Stan at work?” I asked.

“Yes,” she said, frowning.  “Why do you ask?”

“I have something important to talk to you about…something about my real father,” I said.

My mother’s teeth knocked together and her mouth snapped shut.  She fumbled with the coffee pot, splashing coffee onto the counter.  With wide eyes, she mopped up the spill.  She turned to face me, breathing hard and twisting the dish towel in her hands.

“It’s okay, mom,” I said.  “I know who he is, what he is…what I am.  And I know he put a spell on both of us.  Do you know what I’m talking about?”

Yes.  She nodded.  Her face had gone pale and she was shaking so bad I thought she might pass out.  I pulled out a chair and gestured toward it with one gloved hand.

“Come and sit down,” I said.  “I’ve got the coffees.”

I topped up the mugs and carried them to the old kitchen table.  My mother took the mug and held it in white knuckled fingers.

“My friend Kaye, who’s a witch, thinks dad cast a geis on you preventing you from speaking of him,” I said.  “Is that true?”

Yes.  My mother nodded.  Okay, if I could keep my questions to those with yes or no answers, I might learn something about my father.  I grinned.

“You’re doing great, mom,” I said.  “I’m going to ask you some questions.  Try to shake your head yes or no.  Is Will-o’-the-Wisp, king of the wisps, my real father?”

Yes.

“Did he leave us to keep us safe?” I asked.

Yes.  Tears rolled down my mother’s cheeks.

“Do you know where he went?” I asked.

No.  She shook her head and grunted in frustration.

“Okay, scratch that,” I said.  “Did dad go to find a way to break the curse?”

Yes.

“Does he have any friends he might turn to for help?” I asked.

My mother frowned and threw her hands up in the air.  Torn had said that my dad didn’t have any friends in the fae community who were powerful enough to help him, but I wondered if Torn knew the full story.  He’d liked my father, but I didn’t get the impression that they were all that close.  If I could just find a way to track down my father’s allies, I might be able to follow his trail.

I pulled a notepad and pen out of my jacket pocket and slid it across the table to my mom.  Maybe the geis wouldn’t prevent her from writing down the answers to my questions.  It was worth a shot.

“Write down any names you remember dad mentioning,” I said.

My mother grabbed the pen and started writing.  Inari.

A horrible snapping sound echoed across the kitchen. I looked to see what had happened and swallowed hard when I saw my mother’s misshapen hand cramped around the pen.  She cried out and I pulled the pen and paper away from her grasp.  My mother gingerly held her right hand and bit her lip against the pain.  One of her fingers was grossly disfigured.  The geis had broken the bone.

A chill ran up my spine.  The realization hit hard that I was dealing with something I didn’t fully understand.  What if the next time my mother went to nod or shake her head in answer to my questions, the spell decided to break her neck?  How far would the geis go to keep my mother quiet?  That was something I wasn’t willing to find out.

“Mom, I’m so sorry,” I said.  “I had no idea the spell would do that.  I swear, from now on, no more questions.  Let me grab some ice and then we’ll get you to a doctor.”

I rushed to the fridge and pulled a tray of ice cubes from the freezer compartment.  I twisted the tray and upended the cubes onto a clean dishtowel.  I carried the makeshift icepack back to the table and set it beside my mother’s hand.

“Thank you,” she said.

“Want me to call Stan for a ride to the hospital?” I asked.

I don’t drive, but I’d stay with my mom until my stepfather or a neighbor could come and pick her up.

“No, I’ll be fine,” she said.  “Just give me a minute.  I can drive myself.”

“I’m sorry about the questions,” I said.

“Don’t be,” she said.  “I’m the one who should be sorry.  There’s so much I’ve wanted to tell you.”

“But you couldn’t,” I said.

She shook her head and sighed.

“No, but now that you know the truth, there is something I’d like you to have,” she said.

My mother stood, keeping the ice wrapped around her hand, and went to her bedroom.  She returned with a small jewelry box.

“It’s not much, but it’s all I have left of your fa…,” she said.  Of your father.  She coughed and cleared her throat.  “Keep it safe and when you find him, tell him I love him still.”

She pulled a plastic bag from a kitchen drawer and slid the box inside.  My mother knew about my aversion to carrying old things and was trying to make this easier on me.  She handed me the box and tears blurred my vision.  I smiled and nodded.

I had come here in hopes of finding a clue to my father’s whereabouts and I wasn’t leaving empty handed.  My mother had suffered trying to give me the information, but I now had a name—Inari.  I also had the box and whatever it contained.

“I’ll bring dad back to us,” I said.  “I promise.”

My mother smiled through her tears and went to fetch her coat and purse.  When she returned, she offered to drive me into the city.   Since the best hospital in the area, Harborsmouth General, was in the city, I agreed.  We rode in silence, lost in our own thoughts.

I held the jewelry box in my lap, eager to return to the city and continue the search for my father.  I had planned on paying Kaye a visit to thank her for healing me after the cemetery battle.  Now I had another reason to see my friendly neighborhood witch.  If anyone had information on this Inari, it would be Kaye.  I looked out the window and grinned.

For the first time since learning of my father’s existence, I had a solid lead.