“I’m going into this with open eyes guys. Besides, I have to deal with her anyways. She’s Blazh’s head witch.”
“Doesn’t mean you need to connect with her on a personal level. You can’t save everyone, Lou.”
“I’m not trying to save her. Hal made her choices. She has to live with them. It doesn’t mean I have to abandon her like everyone else. I think we all deserve a little forgiveness and understanding. Without it, I would’ve been screwed.”
“Completely different circumstances,” Fel replies.
“Yes, because I was lucky enough to have people who gave a shit about me. She never had that. You know how her family is.”
Fel and Sacha exchange a look.
“Let’s agree to disagree?” I plead silently with my eyes.
They nod, the moment passes, and we begin to go over what we know about magic that involves actual body parts.
Chapter Nine
“Why don’t we call it a day?”
I lower my shield, grateful for the reprieve, and bow to the older witch who just gave me a run for my money in a dueling battle. I wipe the sweat from my brow and suck air into my burning lungs. Hazel Walden might be pushing fifty, but her power packs a serious punch. I wince as my ribs protest my movement. She landed her fair share of hits.
The muscles in my arms jerk as exhaustion sets in. Hours of casting have parts of my body feeling like they’re made of jelly. Over the past few hours, I’ve battled a handful of powerful witches. Mémé is determined to condition me to endure and expect the unexpected.
Each witch had a different style and strength. I understand the why behind Mémé’s methods. Unfortunately, understanding does nothing to alleviate the toll taken on my body.
“Thank you, Hazel.” I bow slightly.
“The pleasure was all mine. I look forward to your coronation. You’ll be a strong leader.”
The approval from the older woman makes me smile.
“I’ll see her out while you freshen up,” Mémé says, giving me an escape.
I head inside the house to the guest room where I’ve set up shop since training. The lavender walls with violet-themed wallpaper trim are comforting. Once upon a time, this was my room growing up. Moving into the bathroom, I strip down, tossing my dirty things in the wicker basket in the corner as I turn on the shower. The sound of the water moving through the pipes makes me smile. Older homes have a charm all their own.
Slipping into the shower, I let the hot water beat down on my shoulders. Spent, I lean against the tile as the heat loosens tight muscles and takes away some of my soreness. I feel like I’ve been trapped inside the Mortal Kombat video game, and I’m one more hit away from a fatality. The steam puffs my hair up like popcorn being heated in the microwave, but I’m too tired to care. Appearance is the last thing on my mind at the moment.
I close my eyes and focus on renewing my energy. Refreshed, I step from the shower and don my comfortable pair of yoga pants and the off the shoulder ‘Wifey’ shirt Renee purchased as a joke. I leave the room and walk down the stairs, avoiding the creaky stair three up from the bottom. I follow the scent of old bay seasoning and a host of other spices into the kitchen where Mémé is seated at the table.
“Lunch?”
She smiles. “The least I could do is feed you after wearing you out.”
“You’re enjoying this a little too much, Mémé,” I say as I move to the cupboard for a bowl.
“I am.”
“Gee thanks.” I take the lid off the gumbo and scoop myself a healthy serving.
“Not the pain. The gumption. Every time you rise to the occasion, you make us both look good. I’m proud of how you’re taking everything in stride. It’d be too much for most people.”
“It’s not like I have a choice.” After setting my bowl across from her, I pour a tall glass of milk to counteract the heat I know will be dancing its way across my taste buds.
“There’s always a choice. You’re doing well.”
“That’s nice to hear you say, ’cause it sure as hell doesn’t feel that way. I never realized how bad winning could make a person feel,” I whine.
She snickers. “Takes a lot of pain and sacrifice to look pretty and polished while you wield magic effortlessly. Talent will only take a person so far. The rest requires skill. That’s earned with hard work and sweat. Do you think I got where I am by D.N.A. alone? Non.” She wrinkles her nose and curls her lip. “You have to be willing to work for it.”