Storm Gods - G. Bailey Page 0,52

that her eyes aren’t bloodshot from crying currently. The level of her grief has never been lost on me. “Hey,” I say, a little surprised to see her.

“Hi,” she replies, lingering in the doorway. She looks fidgety and unsure of herself. “How is Kit?” she asks.

“The same,” I answer. “He won’t wake up, he won’t eat, he won’t respond. At this rate I’m starting to wonder if—” But the words catch in my throat, the possibility too sad to imagine.

“He’ll come around,” mum says, but I can see the uncertainty in her expression. “Just give him time.”

“Yeah,” I reply listlessly. “Maybe.”

There’s another long pause. “Do you mind if I come sit with you?” mum asks tentatively.

“Um, no. Of course not. Feel free.” I’m a little taken aback; this will be the first time she’s come to talk to me of her own accord since Hugo’s death, her days usually spent ruminating or crying. I know she needs space, and I’m not going to be the one to tell her how to mourn, especially when I’m at the heart of this whole thing. My entire family has been fighting Neritous since I was born, knowingly or not, and he has taken so much from my family and me. It might have been Xur who killed my mother and my extended family, but it was because of Neritous. But still, if I had never been born, my family wouldn’t be suffering this way, so it still feels like my fault.

Mum slowly closes the door behind her, taking a few slow steps into the room, her arms wrapped around her small frame in a sort of hug. Wordlessly, she moves to sit down next to me, and I scoot over to make room. Part of me wants to ask why she’s here, but I don’t. Instead, we just sit in silence for a few moments, each lost in her own thoughts. “Do you remember your last birthday?” mum asks suddenly, turning to look at me. “When I brought you that lightning charm?”

“Yeah,” I reply, straightening up. “You brought me breakfast in bed. Peanut butter. And gave me a surprise charm that would help boost the powers inside of me.” I snort, shaking my head. “I didn’t take it seriously then.” Meeting her gaze, I add solemnly, “I won’t be making that mistake again.”

Mum swallows. “Karma…” Her voice trails off, and she breaks eye contact, looking like she’s searching for the right words. “I don’t want you to think you’re responsible for any of this.”

Strangely, that just makes me want to cry again. “People keep telling me that,” I say glumly. “I know you’re my mum, and I know you love me, but you don’t need to act like I’m innocent.”

Mum sucks in a ragged breath. “I’ve been thinking about your birthday a lot, you know,” she tells me, making my brow furrow. “About when I gave you that charm. In that moment, I came close to telling you the truth, about everything. Neritous, your biological mother, your abilities…” She shakes her head. “But I took the easy way out. I thought letting you learn for yourself would be an easier transition. If I had known it would lead to…any of this, I wouldn’t have done it.”

“Mum…” I move closer to her. This is the first I’m hearing of someone else feeling guilty for their involvement in all this. “You did the best you could,” I tell her. “Not just with my birthday, with all of it. You raised me. You loved me like I was your own daughter. How could you ever blame yourself for what happened?”

Mum sighs, giving me a smile without much mirth in it. “I guess we’re in the same boat then, huh? Regrets.”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Lots of regrets.”

She turns to me suddenly, putting a hand on my shoulder. “You need to know that I don’t regret taking you in, Karma. Not for a moment—not for a damn instant.” The language startles me, and the sudden conviction in her eyes warms me a little somewhere deep in the pit of my stomach. “I may not have given birth to you, but you are my daughter. And I could never fault you for any of this.”

“But—” I protest.

Mum holds up a hand. It’s clear that she’s struggling to keep a hold on her emotions. “If you’re going to blame anyone,” she tells me, “blame Neritous. Blame the higher gods, and their corruption, and their prison. You’re as much of a victim