my pillows, moved a bottle of water closer, and placed the tray of food on a little green stuffed stool right next to the bed.
“I think some of my nanites may still be in you. They’ll help you heal,” she said, looking around for something else to move or pick up.
I wanted to ask her about her embarrassment with me, but I couldn’t bring myself to write the words. To ask if she was ashamed of my showing—or complete lack of showing—today. Three times I picked up the pen, but I always chickened out. What if she admitted it out loud? How would I handle that? The moment passed and she gave me an awkward kiss on the top of my head, a troubled glance, and was gone.
The noise of my friend pack dwindled down the hall as they headed out for their first college social adventure while I lay in my bed, still having trouble breathing.
This was not how college was supposed to be, not how I’d envisioned it.
I let myself wallow in the injustice of it for a minute, then I snapped out of it. Sipping more soup, I pulled mom’s grimoire out from under the covers and started to read.
The first topic was battlefield healing and after reading it through twice, I got out a Sharpie and paper and drew me some runes of healing, following my mother’s clear instructions, almost hearing her voice in my head.
After that, I went back to the section I was most interested in, the one that would deliver my retribution. Sipping my food, I looked at the complex drawings my mom had done years ago, reading her words, hearing her voice, feeling more connected to her than perhaps ever before.
Delwood had humiliated me, had beat me badly, but it was nothing compared to what my father had done to my mother. How badly had she wanted to avenge herself, how strongly had she wanted to make him pay? Instead, she and Ashling had run, avoided further conflict and avoided their treacherous circle. Ultimately, it hadn’t worked. Somehow, avoiding direct face-to-face confrontation hadn’t saved my mom. Eight years after the crime, she’d tried to reconnect and look where that had gotten her… dead.
My mom had been powerful. So was my aunt, and they’d avoided using that power. That tactic hadn’t worked. So I would learn from my mom’s book and my mom’s mistake. No more avoiding what I am. Face it head on.
I copied the drawings on notebook paper, learning the strokes, correcting my errors. Each practice paper disappeared in a brief flash of fire, then a second flash of flame as I burned the gases and reburned the ash. The excess heat I pushed outside, using it to melt off the big icicles that hung from the roof above. Finally, exhausted but satisfied, I lay back in bed and fell asleep, thinking about my mom.
Chapter 20
The weekend passed in relative quiet. The partygoers had failed to get into any of the upperclassmen parties, instead spending the evening traipsing around Burlington in the freezing cold.
Saturday, I was either resting or, when I had a bit of energy, doing homework. Mack and the others went to Burlington’s shopping district on Church Street. Basically a walking street, it was liberally endowed with shops, restaurants, and even some outdoor kiosks.
I gave Mack some money and made one request of him, giving him the name of the store where he could find what I wanted.
Staying in the room, I continued to drink protein shakes and soup, although I’d taken off the head bandage and could now move my jaw just enough to get scrambled eggs and applesauce-type foods in. I used the second of my aunt’s healing charms to speed my recovery along.
Sunday, Mack went out with his sister, taking their truck to Walmart for some needed supplies. I took the time to use the tube of henna ink that Mack had acquired for me and begin the applications. It was tricky, as most were never intended to be self-applied. There was almost a ritual to drawing them and some had to be done backward when I applied them to my opposite side. Each had to be figured out in advance, very carefully, as the dark ink did not allow me to make any mistakes.
The ones for my back and butt had to be drawn on cardboard and then I had to oh-so-carefully lie or sit down on them without smearing the glyphs. It was exhausting