Page 153 of Hell Breaks Loose

“Hellena.” She blinks a few times.

Real, icy fear slices through me as I watch her eyes flit around the room, watch the present, the moment fade out of her expression, replaced by rocking back and forth, ever so slightly. Her mouth makes shapes, but no words come out.

“Mom. Marco is gone. He tried to take over Sanctum Harbor and he got himself killed.” It’s the most succinct way I can think of without dumping an hours-long story on her.

Bad enough that I skirted the first hour with stories about Tell, Gavin, and Evan and managed to leave out all of the violent, death-defying war story aspects of everything.

The explanation seems to help, drawing her focus back to me. Back to the confines of her apartment instead of whatever prison she reverted to moments ago.

“He didn’t deserve it,” she whispers, her eyes sad.

“Maybe not.”

“He deserved so much worse. But I am glad it’s over.”

“I’m not sure if anyone deserves to go like he did, but yes.” For her, it is. That much I can promise.

“More tea?”

“No, Mom. Thank you. Can I ask you a question?”

“Telling you no never did any good before.” She smirks, finding a hint of her sass again.

I have to proceed carefully. Asking about my dad seems innocuous enough. Distant enough.

But I don’t know what exactly Marco tortured her to find out.

“When you and Dad were married, did he have a red-gold ring?”

“It was a bracelet, Hellena,” she says like she’s correcting a misplaced child’s memory. “You used to love spinning it on your wrist.”

“Right. That sounds familiar, now that you say it.” Which means Dad got the ring from another one of them. Not entirely important, but interesting.

“You know, I still have the darned thing. Not that I have any use for it.” Cynthia waves a hand dismissively, finishing her tea and puttering away from the table. “Should be in my old jewelry box. Why the sudden interest?”

How do I ask this without opening a whole can of worms?

Fuck it. Sorry, Sing. Sorry, Mom.

“Because it belonged to one of the Seven of the Sinful and I need it to save the city from Aunt Rachelle.”

There’s not a knife sharp enough to cut the silence.

I see the gears turn in her head. A dozen flashes of emotions, expressions. She starts to speak a few times, every one of them clearly to yell at me for being irresponsible, for getting in over my head, for…

“Hemma. You must be careful. She was always out for blood.”

“Who?”

“Rachelle.”

“Mom, you sent me to her. For my safety.”

“Yes. I did. Because he told me she would never hurt you. That they would watch over you. You were never supposed to learn about them, though.” She scowls, shaking her head.

“That’s… par for the course, I guess.”

“Don’t act like you don’t know exactly what it’s like,” she snaps, looking hurt. “Being an adult doesn’t mean you have any clue what you’re doing. Your father and I… we did the best we could in impossible circumstances.” And for the first time in my entire life, I see the tenacious woman Gavin spoke of. The capable, sharp woman my father must have fallen for.

---