Page 62 of The Deer and the Dragon
“Shit, shit,shit!” Our eyes met in mutual panic across the scattered evidence of our breaking and entering.
I wrapped the sølje back in the handkerchief and shoved it in my pocket. Fauna was busy lining the wooden boxes along the bottom of the cedar chest with family heirlooms just in time for me to put the quilt, then the bunad where we’d found it. I rushed to the window just in time to see a woman in her early fifties walking up with a tall, broad man. Fear mingled with puzzlement as I tried to make sense of what I was seeing. The pair disappeared beneath the lip of the window as the handle to the front door rattled.
I tore my eyes from the pair to look at Fauna. “It can’t be.”
She met my wide-eyed disbelief. “Is your mother with…?”
“Silas.”
Chapter Twenty
“What. A. Bastard,” Fauna breathed beside me.
“Does sheknowhe’s with her?” I asked, voice shaking.
Fauna shook her head. “I have no idea, but I doubt it. The motherfuckers don’t need to be seen to whisper their persuasion. It gets the job done.”
I wasn’t a child caught with my hand in a cookie jar. I wasn’t at risk of a wooden spoon, a switch, or a leather belt. She’d already done the worst thing a mother could possibly do to a child. The clang of keys in the front door reverberated through me like a guard opening a prison cell. I was a child again. Years of buried wounds opened as if a scab had been picked, fresh blood flowing freely. I struggled to calm my breathing as Fauna and I navigated out of the bedroom and headed for the landing.
“Can we jump out a window?” I whispered, words scarcely audible over the pounding in my ears.
“Do you need your legs?” she whispered back.
The door was our only option. I straightened my spine, swallowed the heart that seemed lodged in my throat, and led the way. Fauna remained on my heels as I descended the stairs to see my mother, arms crossed, beside a man who stood a full head and shoulders taller than her even in heels.
She bloomed into view, a picturesque monster in acharcoal pantsuit with a large, white-gold cross resting against her sternum, just as it had always been. Seeing the beautiful, horrible woman who’d raised me was every bit as terrible as I’d anticipated. She hadn’t changed a bit. Except now, she was in a costume to play the socially acceptable role of wealthy, as was I.
Like mother, like daughter.
Time moved in slow motion as I saw her for the first time in years.
The tiniest hints of gray lined her bright blond hair, barely visible amid the natural platinum that had always cascaded from her roots. Her face was free from wrinkles, save for the evidence that she’d once been a person who’d smiled. We’d always been able to trade clothes, and I expected she could still fit into the very cream dress on my back if she’d wanted. The primary change was a cold fire in her eyes. It kindled something dark in me, as someone who’d been raised in a burning house. It had been so long since I’d had a match held to my skin that I’d nearly forgotten the pain of its spark.
“Marlow Esther Thorson.” My mother’s voice sliced through the house, each word a blade.
Despite the revulsion, the misery, the sheer terror that soaked through the room, Fauna leaned in to say, “Your middle name is Esther? How biblical.”
“I rebuke you,” she said with icy indignation as I descended the stairs.
“Lisbeth—” I said her name with frost and warning. My gaze darted between her and the angel, his shoulders back, chest puffed out, wondering which feat to tackle first.
She looked past me and directed her rage toward Fauna. Trembling with anger, she said, “I rebuke your persuasion over my daughter!”
The hate had a somewhat soothing, comical effect. The tension snapped. I exhaled, pushing out much of my anxiety as I said, “Mom, this is my friend, Fauna.”
Her eyes darkened as she looked at me. “I know exactlywhatyour friend is—and now, thanks to your parade around town, everyone knows that my daughter is here on an escapade.” She spat the worddaughteras if it were an obscenity. “Do you know how many pictures I got of you arm in arm with this demon at the bakery? As if I didn’t have to suffer humiliation when I was being sent pictures and videos of my daughter on her social media kissing another woman, now you bring one into mytown? Into myhouse, Marlow? Not only have you walked away from God, but you’re letting demons in yourbed.”
Fauna suppressed a chuckle beside me, which, despite the turmoil, I appreciated. Her dedication to irreverence was grounding.
“Fauna isn’t a demon, Mom. She’s—”
“She’s not of God” came her sharp reply. “This house belongs to the Lord. I don’t know what you think you can achieve here, but your demons are not welcome.”
I reached out to grab Fauna for support, which infuriated my mother further.
“Could we try being calm?” I asked, looking between my mother and Silas.
“Explain yourself, Marlow. What are you doing in my home?”
