“Oh,” Rachel whispers. “I take it she wasn’t successful.”
“Mrs. Crenshaw went out of her way to help me, but no. Laura’s spell had created an irreversible traumatic brain injury, and the lesions are too deeply embedded in the matter to be fixed with any type of magic,” Mercia says. “All that helps to alleviate the symptoms is the goldmint.”
They are quiet for a while, driving down the empty street on their way to the center of town.
Curiosity gets the better of Rachel, and she breaks the silence with a subdued, “If you don’t mind me asking, what happened to Laura?”
“As punishment for dabbling in the dark arts and hurting another witch, the coven stripped her of her powers. She didn’t take it well and eventually had to be committed. That’s who we visit in Hawthorne Memorial.” Mercia looks in the rearview mirror, to where Ziggy twirls in place. “I have never heard of a Fae separating themselves from their Fae light for so long, or of humans being able to control them.”
“I don’t control Ziggy,” Rachel says.
“But you can, can’t you?”
Rachel bows her head slightly. “If you’re wondering how I’m able to do it, you’re in good company. Even Orion was stumped when he realized I could control Fae light.”
“Maybe you have some residual powers in your blood, some magic that was passed down to you. If I recall, your family also fled Ireland?” Mercia glances at Rachel.
“Nah, we didn’t flee. There were some convictions of witchcraft and heresy way back in the 1500s, but most of the claims were unfounded, and the evidence was fabricated,” Rachel says. “I don’t have any magic in me.”
“Just because you don’t have witch blood running through your veins doesn’t mean there isn’t some magic in you.” Mercia smiles, already looking less tired. “Manipulating someone else’s magic, particularly a Fae Prince’s magic, is unheard of. I doubt anyone in the coven has even attempted such a feat.” Mercia turns off into Main Road, slows down by the first traffic light, and looks in all of her mirrors. When the light changes to green, she pulls away, driving past the eerily quiet Whole Foods, which stands across the street from the empty roadhouse-styled diner. “Maybe your mother’s family has a bit of magic,” she says, shrugging.
“You’re awfully calm after stealing a car,” Rachel says to change the topic.
Mercia grins. “Rachel Cleary, if I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were afraid of going to juvie.”
“Hardly. I simply didn’t think you were capable of doing something as bold.”
Her humor slowly vanishes. “Peer pressure has its advantages.”
Rachel raises an eyebrow.
“Be careful what you wish for,” Mercia says, as if knowing where Rachel’s thoughts had traveled. “Holland likes to make people do things so she can blackmail them later on. Ashley, on the other hand, thrives on—” She slams down on the brakes, the tires screeching as the car comes to a stop. “Is that your mom?”
Rachel looks out of the window only to see her mom skipping across the road, tearing out the pages of a library book and allowing the wind to blow those torn pages away.
“I didn’t think she’d be back from Bangor yet,” Rachel says, undoing her seatbelt.
“Are you sure leaving the car is wise?” Mercia unclips her own seatbelt.
Rachel ignores her. “Mom,” she calls. Her mother looks up from the book and smiles broadly. “What are you doing?”
Jenny glimpses at the book in her hands again, and snickers. “I’m making big confetti. Duh.” She rips out another page from the book and releases it from her fingers. The page flutters across the street and comes to a rest by the gutter.
Rachel takes her mother by the arm and tugs her forward. “Come on, let’s go home.”
“No.” Jenny shakes her off.
“Mom, come on.” Rachel reaches for her again. Jenny takes a step away. “Seriously?”
Jenny leans closer and whispers, “There’s a monster in that house.”
Rachel frowns and shakes her head. “I got rid of the monster, remember? It’s safe now. The Night Weaver is gone.”
“No,” she yells. “That thing is still there. It’s always there.”
“Should I, you know?” Mercia makes a poof sound, indicating using magic.
Rachel shakes her head. “My mom’s already been through a lot these past few months. I don’t think it’s a good idea to zap her with more magic.” She takes a tentative step closer, both palms up, approaching her mother like she’s a wild animal. “Mom, I promise the monster’s gone. Come with me so I can show you.”
Jenny shakes her head, pouting.
“We have confetti and glitter at home.” Rachel forces herself to smile, afraid of scaring her mother off. The last thing she needs right now is having to chase her mother down to stop her from hurting herself or someone else. “Don’t you want to play with sparkly glitter?”
Jenny seems to consider the question, before she nods vigorously.
“Okay, but you have to come with us then.”
“The monster, though,” Jenny whispers. She drops the book and allows Rachel to lead her to the car.
“If there’s a monster,” Mercia says, walking on Rachel’s other side, “I’ll make it disappear.”
“Like a magic trick?” Jenny is all wide-eyed innocence at this point.
“Exactly like a magic trick,” Mercia says, opening the back door of the car.
“Ooh, pretty and shiny,” Jenny exclaims when she sees Ziggy, scrambling inside to try and catch the startled Fae light.
Rachel shuts the door and sighs. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Mercia says, already moving toward the other side of the car. “If we have someone who’s enchanted, I can maybe figure out what we’re up against.”
“My mom’s not a lab rat, Mercia.”
“Obviously I don’t mean to hurt her,” Mercia says. Rachel follows her into the car, strapping herself into the seat. “No magic, I promise.”
“Aw,”
