Page 32 of Hair, She Bears
“I spared your parents’ lives.”
“But how many others have you taken?” she asked, jutting out her chin.
“Malik has made you brave,” Mother replied. Stepping forward, he pinned her body against the back of the sofa. “I can’t say I’m enjoying this new trait of yours.”
“Why did you take me?” Zenna repeated the question, a hard edge in her voice.
“You saved my life.” Mother tilted his head. “Don’t you remember?”
She shook her head.
“Your mother attacked me, struck me from behind with a vase she seized from the windowsill. A piece of the porcelain embedded itself in my skull, and I dropped to the floor, a pool of blood growing underneath my head. Your mother screamed for your father, who raced into the house. While they argued over what to do, you crawled over to me and placed your chubby hand on my face.”
Zenna closed her eyes, straining to recall the image, but her mind returned empty memories.
“Rising from the floor, you glanced at your parents, whose heated discussion had evolved into screaming, then toddled over to a dresser. After retrieving a hairbrush, you brought it back to me and plopped down. You laid beside me, your eyes even with mine, and stroked the hairbrush through my hair. A strange warmth flowed through my head, entering at the wound, and traveled through my veins. When your mother realized what you were doing, she snatched you away from me, flinging you over her shoulder. They left all their possessions and ran.”
“I should have let you die,” Zenna said, her voice barely a whisper. His revelation sent ice sliding down her spine. Her imprisonment was the direct consequence of her compassion.
Mother grinned. “I laid on the floor over twenty-four hours, forcing myself to breathe while your hair slowly healed me. Once I recovered, I tested the hairbrush and discovered the same natural compound that was in the plant was also in your hair. I knew I had to have you.”
“How did you find us?” she asked, the question stuck in her throat.
“It took several months of searching, but Moira was a gifted tracker—one of the few attributes she passed on to Malik before her death—and she discovered your parents hiding along the northern coast.” Mother glanced to the right, his eyes falling on the mortar. He stepped back and ambled to the worktable. Lifting the pestle, he sifted the green-grey powder.
“When we arrived at the cottage, it was well after midnight. The moon, barely a sliver in the sky, cast no light upon us as we crept around the side of the small hut.”
“They didn’t hear you?” Zenna took a step toward him, lifting her hand, a chastisement on her tongue.
“Our movements were drowned out by crashing waves.” Mother glanced up, surprise flashing across his face as he drank in Zenna’s reprimanding stance. He set down the pestle.
“Did Moira know you were going to kidnap me?” she asked, relaxing against the sofa.
Mother frowned. “Why do you ask?”
“As a mother herself, I can’t imagine she would condone the theft of a child.”
“Moira had one interest in life, Malik. Every choice she made was for him. In the weeks prior to your abduction, she’d had a rather disturbing change of heart and decided this life was no longer for her or her son. We reached an agreement—she helped me retrieve you, and I allowed her and Malik to leave.”
“But Malik is still here.”
“Was here,” Mother corrected her with a dark smile.
“You broke your word to her, too!”
“I did not!” Anger vibrated through the tower. “Once you were hidden away, I released Moira and Malik. They vanished in front of me, melting into the morning sun. I didn’t see my son for five years.”
“Vanished?” A wrinkled etched itself across Zenna’s forehead. “Malik has no magical talents.”
“You’re correct,” Mother replied, an odd tone in his voice as if he were astonished Zenna knew that fact. “However, Moira was a talented sorceress.”
“Then—”
“Why am I the only person still alive?” A heavy hand landed on her shoulder and pinched the soft flesh of her neck. She cringed, doubling over at the waist as he squeezed. “Because I am strong.”
“How did Malik end up back in your control?” Zenna asked through clenched teeth, unsure she wanted to learn the answer.
“Votras Alute.” The words hung in the air. He released her, stalked the length of the tower, and spun at the open window. “Like so many before her, Moira became addicted to the drug. It was Malik who reached out to me, asking for help.”
