Chapter 690: Gram
I almost ran into Shenka on my way back inside as she emerged from Gram's room, Demetrius behind her.
The sad looks on their faces told me my grandmother wasn't taking Quaid's departure any better than his arrival.
"She'll be fine," Shenka said.
"No," Demetrius's lucid moment had gone, his small body doing a spinning jig, reminding me of Gram at her worst. "She's not. Not, snot, lotta good you'll do in there." He danced away, humming to himself, listing off rhyming words as he went.
I paused, eyes locked on my second, only then remembering our late-night visitor. "Can we talk after?"
She sighed, nodded. "I don't have any secrets from you," she said.
I hugged her before gently moving Shenka aside. "I know," I said. "Thank you for not giving me a hard time this morning."
Her lopsided grin tore down the last of my worry about last night. "And thanks for not chasing me down and accusing me of betraying the family to my own sister."
Eep. Did she guess I'd had those concerns?
I laid one hand on Gram's door. "I'll handle this first," I said. "Go make sure Demetrius doesn't freak out the neighbors. And then we'll talk."
She bobbed a nod before hugging me so hard it hurt. Didn't care. I hugged her back.
"Damn Quaid," she whispered in my ear before fleeing toward the kitchen.
Sigh.
I found Gram sitting on the floor next to her bed, knees drawn up to her chest. Her thin nightgown had risen to expose the mottled skin of her calves, her narrow ankles lined with veins, skinny feet topped with jagged nails. No fuzzy socks. She'd stopped wearing them, since Ameline.
So much had changed with her since Ameline.
I sat next to her, mimicking her position, resting my chin on my knees.
"I could use some help," I said.
Gram grunted, turned sideways away from me. "Figure it out yourself," she said. Sniped, really, a bitter old bat instead of the crusty woman I loved. "You're so smart, aren't you? Sleeping with one while another loves you and a third wants your power." She mumbled something I missed before ending with, "self-important brat."
Snarl. "That's so not fair," I said, doing my best to hold my temper. "And you know it."
"Fair doesn't live here," she snapped. "Hasn't ever." Her white hair trembled around her in a soft fluff. "Not ever."
"I'd think you'd understand how I feel." No whining, Syd. "That you'd want what was best for the coven." Better.
Gram twitched. "To hell with the coven," she said. "And to hell with you."
Gasp. Tears bloomed in my eyes, the edges of my soul crumbling as I fought to keep from hugging her and begging her to come back to me. Even when she was crazy, lost in the darkness of her insanity, she was always bright, sharp. Snarky, yes. But cruel and angry?
This wasn't my grandmother anymore.
I don't know what made her suddenly relent. Maybe she finally heard what she'd said to me, processed it through her own pain. Because she turned back toward me with a sigh, shoulders slumping.
"She told me, you know." Gram's voice came out harsh, rasping sandpaper anger and sorrow as deep as mine. "About Ivan."
It took me a moment to make the connection through my grief of wanting my grandmother back.
She? Told her what?
And then it hit me, a ton of bricks in the face. Guilt slammed into me right after.
"I'm sorry, Gram," I said, thinking of the maji chamber under the vampire mansion. Of Ameline and Iepa, of the dark maji guide, Trinol, and the story they told us.
Of Ameline's heritage.
"He was her grandfather." Gram breathed the last word, as though still struggling to believe it. "Ivan and Odette..." She choked, coughed softly. Stared at the floor. "They had a daughter."
I didn't say anything, could barely breathe, knew if I tried to speak I'd sob instead. I'd never been able to uncover what happened the day Gram was attacked, when Ameline stole her power. I was off chasing Alison, trying to stop her after she stole the tainted vampire essence from me. She was the reason I left Ameline with Shenka and Gram and Charlotte. My second and werefriend had both been knocked out early in the fight, before the Enforcers Ameline killed even showed up.
It was my fault Gram lost her magic. No blaming Alison.
My fault alone.
Gram looked up, met my eyes, hers dull and empty. "I tried to fight her," she said. "The moment you left to hunt Alison, Ameline tried to leave." Gram's voice wavered, thin and soft. "Shenka chased her, we all did. I thought that Benoit bitch killed Charlotte." She ran one hand over her face, wrinkles sagging as she seemed to collapse in on herself. "When Shenka fell, I called the Enforcers." She shuddered. "I held her, fought her. I stood against her." No pride, not even a glimmer of satisfaction. "I know they could have captured her, if I'd only held my ground."
Against Ameline? Gram was strong-had been-but she didn't stand a chance.
Did she? Maybe I underestimated my grandmother. After all, she'd been an Enforcer once.
"I think she knew she was about to lose." Gram snuffled, wiped her nose with the sleeve of her sweater. "So she told me."
I saw the last of Gram's light leave her just before she turned from me for the second time and pressed her cheek to her knees, only the back of her head visible, white hair thin and wavering.
"She told me about Ivan," Gram whispered, "and I fell."
Oh, Gram.
I heard her crying, saw her shoulders shake. But when I tried to comfort her, she shrugged off my hands, my magic.
"I always knew he betrayed the coven," she said with so much bitterness I worried for her state of mind. "But I believed him. I believed he never betrayed me."
I couldn't help the aching sob that escaped, but Gram just seemed to grow calm.
"She knew what to do," she said. "That nasty piece of work. She knew how to break me, and I let her." Gram sighed. "I gave up so much over the years. Everything I ever wanted. Fought so hard to be worthy, to make amends for my mother, my grandmother. To keep my family safe." Gram sagged over on her side, curling up in a sunbeam. "All for what? For nothing, in the end." Another sigh. "I just don't feel like fighting anymore."
"Gram." My hands fluttered at my sides.
"So do what you want," she said. "Make your damned choice already. But don't forget, whatever you do, it's always going to end badly."
No matter what I did, no matter how I pleaded, Gram fell silent and refused to speak to me after that.
I left her, still in a ball of emptiness, now tucked onto her bed under a quilt, unable to stand her blankness any longer.
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