Page 64 of Raven

I waved at Athena and nodded, letting her know it was okay to go. I think she waited too, to see if my stubborn mother would change her mind and come back. But not a chance. I don't know why it even crossed my mind that she might, because it was clear, that was not going to happen.

"You should have stayed in the infirmary," I growled as I caught up to her. "Another night of healing and medication." They didn't send us home with meds. If she wanted to continue receiving the Lycanthrocyte, she had to be in a bed there.Another trust issue, because sure as hell that shit would fetch one heck of a price on the market.

"I told you, I'm fine," she snapped, her voice razor-sharp.

I inhaled deeply, then let it out slowly, the air hissing between my clenched teeth. Her mantra. She'd been like this all my life, it wasn't just this. She never needed me for anything, never asked me for a thing, and I got it. I was her child. It wasn't right to have a kid and then depend on it, but I think this was more her anger at me, because that, I was feeling too. Like an avalanche rolling off her and slamming into me. I had to shield myself from her, not the other way around. Hell, I think even without my abilities, I'd have been able to feel it coming off her in waves of simmering rage.

"You know you've ruined your future, right?" my mother snarled at me as we walked. Though 'walk' was a loose term. I slowed to a snail's pace to stay back with her as she struggled, her body a battlefield of pain and determination.

"I haven't ruined my life. I--" But she muttered something and I didn't catch it. She just kept hobbling, each step a defiant act against her own body.

I wanted to shake her. About this, about the walk. I let her get ahead of me. I wasn't there to be her vocal battleground. I got that she was pissed off at me, and that was fine. Angry, too. But I didn't want the accusations and insults she'd hurl at me. I could already feel the shreds she was about to tear off my heart.

"After everything I gave up for you, after everything we did ... you had a future." Her words cut through the night air like knives.

So we were doing this no matter how close or far I was. Okay. "I still have a future. It's just different now. It's changed. That's all."

"No." She growled out, her panther flashing behind those eyes, thick and dark green, piercing me. My mother wastrembling. She never trembled. Not in my entire memory of my life with her. The soft vibrations shimmered along her frame.

"I need to get you home," I said, reaching for her arm.

"You don't need to do anything." She glared at me, her eyes so bright and green they seemed to glow in the darkness, her fists clenched and her jaw tight enough to crack stone. "I need to get home and think. Do not talk to me. Just walk. You think you can at least do that and not mess it up?"

I felt about five. Five years old and being barked at by my mother in the middle of the street. But I didn't reply. It was there, in my head, oh hell yes, I wanted to shout back, but it'd get me nowhere and us in some anger-fueled argument where we'd both say things we didn't actually mean. At least some of what Malcolm had said was right—she was my mother and she was angry, and she had a right to be, because she'd had a vision of my life, but it'd been her vision, not mine. I'd gone with it, because it was the only one we had. But there had to be room for change, there had to be times when things came along and we could adjust, not throw them out and refuse to have any part of them because they didn't fit.

So I did as she asked. I walked and I didn't say a thing. It took us an eternity to get to the small alleyway that led to our place. We trudged along the path, not cutting along the grass. The building loomed over us, dark and foreboding, mirroring my mother's mood. I wasn't so sure I wanted to go inside with her, to hear what she had to say.

We walked under the balcony that connected our building to the one next to ours. There were steps leading down the outside. The main door to our place was open in the middle, which would have been fine. It should have been fine. A shared building, people left the main door open sometimes, but ... it was there again, that feeling I'd had on and off since that night I'd met Tia. It twisted inside me, a writhing serpent of dread.

"Mum ..." my voice came out as a growl, my panther filling it. I cleared my throat, went to reach for her and tried again.

But she shook me off, her movement sharp and decisive. "Get inside," she said, her voice brittle as frozen grass.

"Mum, please ..." It was thick and heavy against my skin, unfurling inside me like a toxic bloom of energy. It was almost like when I'd felt Tia's brother, but dialled up to eleven and laced with bone-deep dread that made my teeth ache. "There's something ..."

But she was already gone, hurrying ahead of me to the door. She yanked it open and slammed it behind her. That's when the feeling uncloaked like a venomous snake. The air grew thick, almost unbreathable. My panther roared inside me, clawing to get out, to protect.

Shit.

I lunged for the door, my heart slamming against my ribs. "Mum ..." The word tore from my throat, a desperate roar swallowed by the unnatural silence. I tore up the stairs, taking them three at a time, my muscles burning with each leap. How the fuck had she got up there so fast?

I caught her at the top, but the stench of fear and blood was already thick in my nostrils, choking me. When I said her name again, it came out as a broken whisper, all my bravado crumbling at the sight of her terror.

She stood frozen, staring at our door like it was a gateway to hell itself. She backed up, her body trembling. "Did you leave the fucking door open?" she hissed, her voice a ragged whisper that sent chills down my spine.

"No. Never." I moved to push past her, but she grabbed my arm, her nails biting into my skin. The pain was nothing compared to the fear in her eyes. "If there's someone in--"

"Get back down the stairs. Right now." Her voice cracked, a mother's desperation bleeding through.

"Mum."

"I said now. Run."

I went to protest, but she whirled on me, yanking me around with surprising strength. Any protest I had died in my throat, replaced by a cold dread as I saw what she'd already spotted.

"You can get the fuck out of my place." I stepped in front of my mother, or tried to, my body instinctively moving to shield her. Two of the humans from the bar, from the argument outside the diner, stood at the entrance to the stairwell, their eyes glinting with malice.

My mother pulled at me, trying to drag me back. Not because I was trying to hurt them, but to get me away, to find another escape. We could go the other way out of the place; it was just longer. But as I stumbled backward, I slammed into my mother, almost knocking her over. Tia's brother stood there, blocking that exit, his face a mask of cruel anticipation.

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