told her to leave. I was there for her if she needed me. But she didn’t, and she left.”
“You never saw her again after she left?”
He swallowed. “I’m… not sure. You had meningitis when you were eight, remember?”
Scarlet remembered nothing about it other than what she had been told. She had fallen into a massive fever one night and had gone to the hospital in an ambulance. She’d known for a while that she had almost died as a child. “I remember.”
Her dad continued. “Well, the doctors had you in the hospital, filling you with fluids and medicines, but I could tell from the look on their faces that things were touch and go. I slept beside your bed two nights straight, but you weren’t getting any better. They said that every day it went on, the worse the chances were of a full recovery. You might get brain damage, or die. It was terrifying. On the third night of me staying beside your bed, I had a dream. I dreamt that I saw your mother standing over your bed, stroking your face. When I woke up in the morning, you were well again, and there was a vase full of lilies beside your bed. None of the nurses knew who had left them, but they were all amazed at how well you were doing. The doctors said your sudden recovery was remarkable—almost like magic. You could remember nothing about it, but you loved the lilies.”
Scarlet felt a knot in her stomach. She knew the magic that had saved her, and why. Because my mother is an Aldorian witch who needs me to live till I’m eighteen, so that I can bring back magic to the world. Real, pure, world-consuming magic. Thanks mum. Thanks for nothing. Should have let me die.
“Go to bed, Scarlet. We’ll talk more in the morning. Oh, by the way, did you get your job back?”
She got up, glad the conversation was over, but still scared that there was an otherworldly assassin outside intending to kill her. “Mr Chester and I had a lot to talk about, but we’re back on the same page.”
“Super. Then at least you still have a job to occupy your time. Maybe you can earn enough to replace the phone you lost, because I’m not paying for it.”
“Good night,” was all she said.
~ Chapter Ten ~
Climbing the stairs was an effort, which made Scarlet realise how tired she was, but could she even hope to get any sleep tonight? The Saint had been just a couple of roads away from her house. Could a coil of bloody rope really keep him out? Was there any way to stop him from killing her? He was an agent of Heaven—or whatever stood for it. How could she stop that?
The hardest part about the whole thing was not being honest with her dad. Despite the awkward divide between them, she had not made a habit of lying to him, and it felt wrong to do so now. Even when she’d been caught smoking weed at school with a boy she’d liked, the thought of lying her way out of things hadn’t occurred to her. She wanted to smoke the weed, and that was what she told him, even when pretending she had been pressured into it might have been easier.
As she stood outside her bedroom door now, about to go in, she felt like a little girl. She didn’t want her dad to be mad at her; she wanted her daddy to keep her safe and protect her. Maybe if he knew the truth he could do something.
Or maybe telling him would make things even worse, or even end up getting him hurt.
At least this way, only she was going to die. He’ll probably be better off, she thought. I’m just hard work apparently.
The fact that he thought of her in such clinical, job-like terms had hurt her deeply. It made her want to sob and rage at the same time. It made her insane.
But insane had come to her , not the other way around. She had to keep sight of the fact that she was innocent in all this. She hadn’t asked for any of this—hadn’t even asked to be born, or for her mother—who might just be a witch—to abandon her.
She let out a yawn and decided she would try sleep. Maybe the morning would be better.
“You never saw her again after she left?”
He swallowed. “I’m… not sure. You had meningitis when you were eight, remember?”
Scarlet remembered nothing about it other than what she had been told. She had fallen into a massive fever one night and had gone to the hospital in an ambulance. She’d known for a while that she had almost died as a child. “I remember.”
Her dad continued. “Well, the doctors had you in the hospital, filling you with fluids and medicines, but I could tell from the look on their faces that things were touch and go. I slept beside your bed two nights straight, but you weren’t getting any better. They said that every day it went on, the worse the chances were of a full recovery. You might get brain damage, or die. It was terrifying. On the third night of me staying beside your bed, I had a dream. I dreamt that I saw your mother standing over your bed, stroking your face. When I woke up in the morning, you were well again, and there was a vase full of lilies beside your bed. None of the nurses knew who had left them, but they were all amazed at how well you were doing. The doctors said your sudden recovery was remarkable—almost like magic. You could remember nothing about it, but you loved the lilies.”
Scarlet felt a knot in her stomach. She knew the magic that had saved her, and why. Because my mother is an Aldorian witch who needs me to live till I’m eighteen, so that I can bring back magic to the world. Real, pure, world-consuming magic. Thanks mum. Thanks for nothing. Should have let me die.
“Go to bed, Scarlet. We’ll talk more in the morning. Oh, by the way, did you get your job back?”
She got up, glad the conversation was over, but still scared that there was an otherworldly assassin outside intending to kill her. “Mr Chester and I had a lot to talk about, but we’re back on the same page.”
“Super. Then at least you still have a job to occupy your time. Maybe you can earn enough to replace the phone you lost, because I’m not paying for it.”
“Good night,” was all she said.
~ Chapter Ten ~
Climbing the stairs was an effort, which made Scarlet realise how tired she was, but could she even hope to get any sleep tonight? The Saint had been just a couple of roads away from her house. Could a coil of bloody rope really keep him out? Was there any way to stop him from killing her? He was an agent of Heaven—or whatever stood for it. How could she stop that?
The hardest part about the whole thing was not being honest with her dad. Despite the awkward divide between them, she had not made a habit of lying to him, and it felt wrong to do so now. Even when she’d been caught smoking weed at school with a boy she’d liked, the thought of lying her way out of things hadn’t occurred to her. She wanted to smoke the weed, and that was what she told him, even when pretending she had been pressured into it might have been easier.
As she stood outside her bedroom door now, about to go in, she felt like a little girl. She didn’t want her dad to be mad at her; she wanted her daddy to keep her safe and protect her. Maybe if he knew the truth he could do something.
Or maybe telling him would make things even worse, or even end up getting him hurt.
At least this way, only she was going to die. He’ll probably be better off, she thought. I’m just hard work apparently.
The fact that he thought of her in such clinical, job-like terms had hurt her deeply. It made her want to sob and rage at the same time. It made her insane.
But insane had come to her , not the other way around. She had to keep sight of the fact that she was innocent in all this. She hadn’t asked for any of this—hadn’t even asked to be born, or for her mother—who might just be a witch—to abandon her.
She let out a yawn and decided she would try sleep. Maybe the morning would be better.
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