“I would say ‘I’ll take your word for it,’ but I think I’m going to find out firsthand.” Maria spooned some of the milkshake onto Gramps’s saucer, and Sherlock lapped at it. He was like a crack addict in need of a fix. Better to shut him up than to have to deal with his sarcasm and veiled insults, Maria supposed.
“You have such a kind heart, Maria,” Gramps said.
Maria put her hand up. “No sappiness! I mean it!”
Gramps wiped away a tear with the back of his hand. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”
Maria looked out the window and saw a group of friends walking in the parking lot, their arms draped through shopping bags.
“I’ll have to visit Claire and Tabby before we go.” She suddenly didn’t want the rest of her milkshake. Sherlock drooled looking at it. He looked so silly sitting in the small coffeehouse, so out of place. But it made sense now. Gramps had magicked Sherlock inside of a place where dogs were most certainly not allowed. Was it wrong? Probably, but Gramps was also right: This might be our last time together. The road ahead of us is long and treacherous, as a wise man once said. But why didn’t he do it at Walmart?
Because he wanted to drag out the time, she realized. He doesn’t want to go. He’s afraid…deep down, he’s afraid.
The waitress came back about five minutes later with the sandwich. Record time.
“Here you go, dear. On the house, of course,” the waitress said. She smiled a magic-forced smile. It was painful to look at.
“No,” Maria refused, glaring at her grandfather. In her pocket, she had a twenty-dollar bill. American money was no good in Oriceran, so she took it out and handed it to the waitress. The waitress just looked at it with the grin stretching her features. It was like she didn’t know what money was.
“Kill the charm, Gramps,” Maria said.
“I can’t. It has to wear off on its own,” he answered and took a drink of his coffee.
Are you gonna eat that? Sherlock asked, pointing his nose at the chicken sandwich.
Maria growled at him.
The waitress stood there awkwardly. Maria decided to just put the cash in her apron. When the charm wore off, she’d be twenty dollars richer. It was a hell of a tip.
“Okay, that will be all.” Maria concluded the transaction.
“Certainly,” the waitress said, and nodded. She turned around and walked away. The smile never left her face.
“Geez, talk about creepy,” Maria shuddered. “She looked like the Joker from Batman or something.”
“It’s been awhile since I’ve used that charm. If the Silver Griffins found out I did that…oh, boy, would I be in trouble.”
There was only one other customer in the coffeehouse. He sat on the opposite side of the small room, reading a newspaper. He kept throwing unamused glances toward Maria’s table. She was just about ready to tell him to take a picture because it would last longer when Gramps interrupted her.
“I suppose you want to hear more about your mother.”
Maria was shocked.
The old story went that she had died giving birth to her. Maria never knew what it was like to have parents, but it didn’t particularly bother her. Gramps had done a fine job raising her. He was always there for her, had taught her how to ride a bike, how to spell her name, how to stand up for herself. So when it came to having a mother, Maria felt perfectly all right without one. She wasn’t sure what she was missing.
But she would be lying if she said she wasn’t a bit curious. After all, it’s not everyday that you find out your mom is an alien known as the Queen Witch.
Maria nodded. “I do.”
“You two look so much alike. Her hair was much longer, though. It was a symbol of great power, to wear one’s hair as long as hers.”
“Kind of like the Dothraki in Game of Thrones?” Maria asked.
Gramps arched an eyebrow. “Maria, you know I only watch General Hospital and Days of Our Lives. I don’t bother with such fodder as Game of Thrones. A bid for power, for sitting on the throne, is not a game at all.”
“Okay, Gramps. Sorry, I forgot. But just know you’re really missing out on some good television.”
Gramps smiled politely. Maria knew he’d never get around to watching Game of Thrones. She’d tried really hard to get him to watch Breaking Bad, and he’d made the same argument. Oh well, his loss.
“Your mother was a brave woman. After the Arachnids attacked the first time, she stepped up when no one else would. Not even the king.”
“The one I saw dead on the floor of the throne room?”
Gramps nodded. “Your father.”
“Oh, my God. That was my father?”
“Yes. He was murdered in cold blood. For what? For power. See, Maria; it is no game.”
Maria’s head spun. Get ahold of yourself, Maria, she thought. You never knew them in all your nineteen years. You can’t be sad. You don’t get sad.
“All because of this,” Maria said, pulling the music box out of her bag. She opened it. The sweet music drifted along the air. Now it didn’t sound like gibberish to her; now it was dear to her heart. She may not understand the words, but she understood the melody’s importance.
“Wars have been fought for much less,” Gramps said. He brushed the wood with the back of his hand. A tear sliced down his cheeks, riding the wrinkles.
“Do you really think Malakai is after us?” Maria found herself asking, her head still spinning.
“It’s hard to say. Bringing someone back from the dead is no easy task. If anyone is capable of doing it, however, it is the Widow.”
“ ‘The Widow’?” Maria asked.
Sherlock’s lapping was the only sound between them for a moment. Gramps rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hand.
“The leader of the Arachnids. The one who wants the box.”
“The leader? I thought you killed the leader; Korrin,
