Page 67 of Crossroads Magic
Trevalyan is fading. Since Max died, he seems to have lost all interest in anything, and he lived for the power, the rush of the spell. He was utterly brilliant and now he…isn’t. My heart breaks, for his loss and for me, who can never be anything but a friend to him.
Worst of all is that now I can never leave the Crossing with Trevalyan. The Crossing knows….
“I can’t believe you’re still reading those old notebooks of Nanna’s,” Ghaliya told me, drawing my attention back to the dining room.
My gaze fell upon Trevalyan, who was gnawing at a strip of bacon, his fingers greasy, and a look of pleasure upon his face. I felt my cheeks heat and looked away, before my gaze drew his attention.
“There’s lots of useful information in the notebooks,” I told Ghaliya. “Including recipes.”
“For hiccups?” Ghaliya said, with a wise expression. My gaze fell upon the pretty little flower pendant she wore. It was painted, carved wood and I had no doubt it was Hirom’s Christmas gift to her.
“For food,” I said patiently. “There’s some recipes Mom used to make for me when I was a kid, that I had completely forgotten about. I must try them out.”
In fact, I had spent the last twenty-four hours devouring as much of her notebooks as I could. They weren’t journals to me. They were encyclopedias. I learned a lot. Including that my mother had struggled to cast spells. They did not come easily to her, and often did not work. Sometimes she blamed the spell. In odd moments, she was candid enough with herself to admit that she was the weak link.
After yesterday morning’s shocks, the calmness of the hours that had followed had let me relax and given me time to think.
There was still no reason to stay in Haigton Crossing despite what I knew about the place now. In fact, that was even more reason to leave.
Ghaliya would need advanced medical care if she continued to carry the baby. Trevalyan had been vague about what he could see of the future, but he had given me hope. And that suddenly made it more urgent that I prepare for that future. Ghaliya, too.
The flaring hope, thepossibilitythat Ghaliya might successfully carry the child, told me the degree to which I believed Trevalyan. That Iwantedto believe him.
I watched Ghaliya devour her bacon and eggs, toast and hash browns. It was reassuring to see her eat so well. Perhaps the nausea was done with her for now.
?
I had just finished clearing away breakfast when an email from the Coroner’s office landed.
I wiped off my hands and sat on the stool by the steel counter to read it.
The attachment to the impersonal email was the coroner’s report on my mother’s death. I read through the report three times, trying to wrap my head around it.
Frida touched my arm, startling me. I looked up at her.
She waved toward the scrap bucket.
“Yes, I’m taking it out in a minute,” I murmured. My brain was still immersed in the dry phrasing of the coroner’s report.
Frida waved toward me, her eyes widening.
“I’m fine,” I told her. “Just some bad news.” I got to my feet, and walked stiffly out of the kitchen, across the hall and into the bar.
Hirom was right where I had expected him to be. I sank onto the stool and put my phone gently on the counter.
Hirom came over. “News?” he asked softly.
“The coroner has determined that my mother died by her own hand. Suicide.”
“Damn,” Hirom breathed. “What are you going to do about it?”
WhatwasI going to do? What could I do?
“Clearly…” I said, very slowly, reaching for words as I spoke them, “I can’t go back to Los Angeles straight away. I have to sort this out, Hirom. I can’t leave it there. I can’t have everyone thinking my mother took her own life, because she wasn’t like that. She wasn’t the sort of person who would even consider suicide an option.”
Hirom grimaced. “I wouldn’t have said so, either. Not the Thamina I knew.”
I nodded. “Yes, exactly. You could argue that I didn’t know her very well, after so many years apart, but I’ve been reading her journals, and the core of the woman was in those pages. That woman had not given up on anything. She had plans.”
