54 | GINGER...AND...

Earlier in the week, I’d spoken with Paris on the Hunter problem. She’d offered to up the amount of patrols they do, tell me that she’d notify me the second she got a whiff of a Hunter on their lands. I tried to stress that the Hunter was someone who’d out-witted Ry and Craven, and they he may have a grudge against the Pack - but she didn’t seem too concerned about it. It’s now Friday and Paris has been sending me the ‘all-clear’ night after night. Still, I can’t help the slight worry growing in my stomach at the thought that something may happen between my cousins and the Hunter with the grudge. Even though Shola had told me the Hunter was after older Wolven with completely blood-red fur -something I made sure to tell Paris about - I still worry.

All that worry has slowly eaten away at the calm from Nikki’s visit and I’m a twitching mess this morning. Which is probably why I’m standing outside the house I lived in up to a few months ago, my hand poised to knock on the front door. I’ve been itching to see my mom for weeks now, the little fears and worries building in me until I feel lost in the sea of it all. I just want to be near my mother right now - that childish wish waking me before the dawn can come and bringing me to this moment.

But before my knuckles can rap against the wood of the door, it flies open.

“Morning, Mom.” I grin at my mother as she answers the door. She throws her arms around me, leaning up on her tip toes to rest her chin on my shoulder. I lean down a bit to make it more comfortable for her as I wrap my own arms around her.

“Wisty!” She crows in excitement, that odd ginger and antiseptic scent stinging my nose as I bury my face in her hair. “You should have told me you were coming, sweetheart!” She half-scolds me as she gives me an extra little squeeze. The soft creaking of her bones stops me from returning the pressure and has my heart slamming in fear in my chest. I realize how frail she feels under my embrace, the once-strong body of my mother is nothing like this much softer and bonier version I’m holding.

“Just…wanted to see how you’re doing.” I release her, trying to make it smooth so she doesn’t sense anything’s wrong.

“Oh, honey,” Mom’s grin softens, her pale lips looking chalky against her almost equally pale skin. *How had I not noticed how pale she’s gotten? How could her appearance have changed so drastically in just a few weeks?* “You know I’m fine. Just missing you,” She sighs and I catch a whiff of that disgusting tea on her breath as she pulls away and leads me into the kitchen. The smell of the tea grows stronger, making me breathe from my mouth instead of my nose to stop from making my head hurt. A barely-touched mug of the stuff is waiting for her on the counter. “I know you’re busy.” I blink and refocus my attention on my mom as she continues.

“Things are better.” I comment lamely, the mountain of stuff that had been weighing me down seems like nothing compared to the sudden change in my mom. “Are you really feeling okay?” I try to make the question nonchalant, but there’s a tightness in my voice that has her head tilting.

“Of course, honey.” Her smile falters a little before she can school her expression. Without another word, she scoops up the mug of tea and takes a large drink. My head aches a little as a freshly strong pulse of the the scent seems to bypass my nose and sting the inside of my brain. I press my sleeve to my nose as my eyes water and I have to blink a few times to clear the moister. “Sorry about that,” Mom tells me with a stronger smile. I blink as I look at her, the normally healthier glow to her skin seems to have returned in the few seconds it took her to drink her tea. “I know you don’t like the smell.” She moves to place the now empty mug into the sink and has it washed before I can open my mouth to speak.

“Its…it’s okay.” I say slowly, blinking a few more times. I’m having a hard time making sense of the fresh changes Mom’s undergone in the last few minutes. She’s not as frail-looking as she had been when I first saw her, her lips have regained color and her blue eyes are back to sparkling. When I try to recall and compare the mental image of what she’d looked like, the fresh memory feels fuzzy and makes my head ache. I frown as I sit in my usual chair at the counter.

“So, tell me,” Mom turns to the fridge, moving with her usual grace, though a little slower than normal. I blink again, not sure what I’d been thinking about a second ago. My head clears as I lean on my elbows, contentedly resting my chin on my palms as I watch Mom start on breakfast. “What brings you by?”

“I don’t know, I just,” I shrug, remembering why I’m here. “I missed you. It feels like I’ve already moved out, you know.” I add with a bit of an apologetic grimace.

“Nonsense,” Mom huffs, returning to the counter to flash me a smile. “We used to go months without seeing each other,” She reminds me, cracking eggs into a bowl and whisking them with a practice and ease I know I’ll never be able to achieve.

“I know, but it’s different now.” I sigh and can’t help but smile back. Nostalgia prickles along the back of my eyes, the weird feeling of reminiscence stirring my memories. “If you could have one thing, anything at all, what would it be?”

“I don’t know, Wisty,” Mom pauses and turns to watch me, an odd look in her eyes. “I’ve already gotten more than I thought was possible.” She reaches over with her free hand and touches my cheek softly. “Everything’s so much better now.” Her smile turns a little sad and I think I see her eyes starting to glimmer with tears before she turns back to the eggs. “I suppose time.” She tosses over her shoulder after a second and I can hear the truth in the comment.

“Yeah,” I murmur after a moment, feeling my forehead pucker as I realize I’m probably going to outlive my mom by several decades because of my hybrid genes. “I’d want that, too.” A little stab of sadness fractures a piece of my heart and I stare at the counter.

“Wisty,” Mom begins, still moving around the kitchen to gather ingredients and cooking ware to make food as she speaks. “I don’t mean to be state the obvious, but you’re looking rather…” She looks at me over a shoulder as she pauses in stirring the cooking eggs on the stove, a concerned look in her eyes.

“I know, but I’m okay.” I tell her - almost automatically smoothing my tone so the lie comes out easily. “Nightmares and stuff,” I shrug when her piercing gaze locks with mine. “It’s always like this around this time of year.” I add more quietly. She turns away with a slight nod. She used to visit
me during the Thanksgiving breaks over the years when she could and I know she’s seen me like this before.

“Be sure to hunt more.” Mom tells me firmly, piling freshly made scrambled eggs on a plate and setting it in front of me with a small stack of toast. I take the food and start eating while she adds a steaming mug of coffee that seems to be more blood than coffee. I smile at her as she starts to come around the counter to take the seat beside mine- when she suddenly sways on her feet and stops in her tracks.

Her hands reach out, Wolven reflexes allowing her to grasp the counter for support as her eyelids flutter. Before I can move an inch, her eyes suddenly roll back in her head and her body drops to the floor like dead-weight. I think I scream, the world around me flashing eerily silent as I jump out of my chair and rush to her side.

She’s unconscious on the floor, her skin - which had been only slightly pale before - has a greyish pallor that scares the living shit out of me. I grip her shoulders, carefully checking to make sure she’s still breathing before my hands move to her throat, searching for a pulse. Thready and weak, but there, her heartbeat thumbs under my fingertips. I can feel my mouth moving, but can’t seem to hear anything as I gently shake her - hoping against hope she’s only fainted. My shaking becomes a tremor in my hands, pain in my throat letting me know I am indeed trying to speak. My vision’s clouding and unfocused, the heated prickle of tears racing down my face as I try to comprehend what the hell’s happening.

“-Sunshine,” A voice breaks through my distress, both mentally and audibly. I blink, suddenly seeing Hale crouched on the other side of Mom, his eyes burning bright, acidic green. My head aches at the volume of his voice, but it breaks through the fog of near-hysteria that had a hold of me only seconds ago. “You need to let go of her - I’m going to move her,” He tells me firmly, his voice making my skin chill as the hints of Compulsion in it pul at my body. I suck in a sharp breath, my hands releasing the material of Mom’s shirt. The soft pajama top is wrinkled, like I’d been holding onto it too tight, and my hands ache slightly to confirm that line of deduction.

“Sh-she just collapsed.” I rasp in a broken sob, my aching throat adding to the small pains echoing around my body - the largest being the feeling of my heart going through a shredder.

“I got here as soon as I could, but her healer is having some travel issues at the moment. I need to move your mother,” Hale tells me stiffly, eyes still on me rather than Mom. I notice how his eyes are tight, the pulsing light of his eyes giving away more than just the loss of his control over his power. I nod, getting to my feet unsteadily. Before I can blink, Mom’s gone from the floor, the sound of her bed creaking from the bedroom letting me know Hale’s already moved her. I take a steadying breath as my head swims, pain and terror constricting my heart as I replay the last few minutes on a loop - wondering what just happened and how it got to this.

I go into the room on autopilot, noting Mom’s now laying on her bed, the sheets pulled over her with her arms resting on top - as if she’s sleeping and not unconscious. Hale’s sitting on the bed beside her, gingerly holding her hand in both of his and staring intently at her face now - as if willing her to wake up. The slightly disheveled appearance of his clothes - the button-down and slacks he normally wears to school - lets me know he came here straight from campus. A small voice in the back of my head tells me I’ve probably missed first period, but I can’t bring myself to care.

Mom’s unconscious. From one moment to the next, faster than I could blink, out. I find myself staring at her, willing this to just be some elaborate joke as time seems to stand still around me, only the shallow rise and fall of her chest counting the seconds as they tick by.

“-Scarlett?” My name brings me out of the abyss I had been falling into and I look up to see Hale watching me. *Had he been calling out to me again?* “Scarlett, can you let Mari in?” Hale asks me stiffly, still clasping Mom’s hand and looking at her peaceful, pale face. “She’s at the front door.” He adds when I don’t move. I nod robotically, though he probably can’t see it, as I move from the doorway where I’ve been standing - frozen. My head’s still spinning from watching Mom collapse that I don’t feel the pulsing energy from the other side of the door until I open it and it nearly knocks me over.