Page 8 of A Bond with the Dark

“Oh, sweetheart,” she whispers, clasping my hands in hers. “You will always prevail. I know you. You have the strength within you to overcome whatever is in front of you. Remember leukemia?” She lets out a slight laugh. “You kicked its ass and made it your bitch, remember?”

My chest lightens with the memory. “I did make it my bitch.”

It was one of the things I said to her when I first found out I had cancer.

I called her and told her, and while she fell apart I told her not to worry. I said, “Fuck you, Leukemia, I’m coming for you. You can come in for now and teach me things, but you cannot stay. I will kick your ass and make you my bitch.”

“See,” she says, nudging me with her shoulder. “I’ve watched you rise up after being knocked down and come back stronger since the day you were born. It’s been the greatest honor of my life, being the witness to your soul’s authority. No matter what comes for you, it stands no chance. Especially now that you’re a mother too. That fire in your being only got brighter with Gauge. And for him, you would dismantle the world. Just like I would dismantle the stars for you.”

I heave a sorrowful sigh. “I don’t know how to do this without you, Mama.”

The pause in her smile stuns me, the look in her eyes telling me she believes in me and is forever proud of everything I do.

“Of course you do, darling. You’re you. That’s always been your answer. When things get dark, you find the light and keep on keeping on. Your own well of strength comes from the essence of who you are. I knew I’d made something special when I made you. You are destined for greatness.”

“Yes, but I’ve always had you to cheer me on, to hype me up. I can’t fathom a life that doesn’t contain my biggest fan.” My shoulders slump and my head falls to my chest, the sadness enveloping me.

Her arms embrace me, pulling me into her and it mimics the feelings the sun gave me. “Shhh,” she says, rocking me. “I’ll always be there, even if you can’t see me. I exist in you.” She pulls my chin up again, her green eyes searching. “No one can ever take me from you; we’re bonded, you and I. Remember? I’m the Cooder to your Wade.”

The laugh that spills is soaked with that memory of her and me, telling a joke, reenacting southern accents to each other, and laughing so hard our cheeks hurt.

“Okay, Cooder,” I say with the accent, though this time it’s dejected and sad.

“I love you, punkin pie.” She then recites the poem we’d adopted from a children’s book we read when I was young. It’s how we ended every letter, every text.

I recited the poem with her and let her rock me some more.

“Everything will be all right,” she says, and the weight of her arms lessens like she’s fading away.

“No, Mama, don’t go, please,” I plea, grasping at straws as she dissipates.

“Keep on your path,” she whispers, her face fading into the clouds. “We did not have you crawl through shards of your own brokenness to prepare you for mediocre magick.”

A chill through the air gnaws me out of my vision and places me back at my house, before my altar.

I shiver and collapse back on my knees, physically feeling the effects of seeing Mama.

The candles are dancing in the ghosts of the air, and even though I know it was a vision, it feels like she was here.

That was Mama.

4

WE ARE MONSTERS

DOM

“So, what did you find out?” Mom asks. She’s in her spell room, muddling something together in her mortar and pestle.

“Absolutely nothing,” Hattie responds despondently, plopping herself down on one of the chairs by the fire.

“Hattie, I told you it was a bad idea,” Dad answers gruffly. He has a penchant for making Hattie feel childish about everything.

Ollie shifts in his chair uncomfortably.

“Everett darling,” Mom scolds him, “try to be nice. She is only thinking of ways to help us with the grimspawn problem.”

“She’s only after trying to save her girlfriend—whom she met a week ago.”

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