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This was all that was left of what Grammy had rescued from her house the night we’d escaped Octavia Falls. I had to preserve it, so I could keep what was left of her.
I pulled the shoe boxes down from the shelves and set them on the bed. The first box was filled with keepsakes that didn’t make much sense. I picked up an old watch, a button, and a small seashell. I didn’t know why Grammy had bothered saving all these things, but I realized they must’ve been important to her. It broke my heart that the meaning and stories behind these items would die with her.
Inside, I found an old picture of Grammy and Mom. Mom must’ve been a teenager in the photo. It would’ve been taken before she had her magic, but the two were stirring a cauldron together like my grandma was teaching her Alchemy secrets.
They looked really happy. I wanted to keep the photo, so I conjured my own keepsake box. My fingers shook as I shifted through the contents inside. I’d kept pictures of my parents, along with one of Mom’s old aprons and a candle that smelled like her. I’d also kept used score cards from Clue games I’d played with my father, and an old collector’s license plate from one of his cars. I placed the photo of Mom and Grammy inside, then went over to Grammy’s dresser and added a necklace of a cat she often wore into the box.
I opened another one of Grammy’s shoe boxes, and I found a small wooden box inside. I lifted the top to reveal a stack of recipe cards—exactly what I was looking for.
I pulled out the first index card and smiled. It was Grammy’s brisket recipe. The next several cards were tea blends, and I found more for cookies, cakes, and pies. My heart lifted as I pulled out more and more recipes I recognized.
Grammy had always been very organized, but I noticed the recipes weren’t placed in any particular order. She must’ve had them all memorized by now and hadn’t opened this box in a long time.
I pulled out the recipe cards and started organizing them into stacks, separating them between dinner items, desserts, appetizers, and tea blends.
As I reached the end of the recipes, I realized the last one was thicker than the others—folded up like it had been added to the box as an afterthought. I unfurled the paper and nearly fell off the bed when I recognized my mother’s handwriting.
Isa jumped onto my lap and nudged my hands. I scratched her behind the ears while I began reading.
Mom,
Thank you for your last package. The spira cacti worked like you said and made the protection potion ten times stronger. I’m sending a sample along so you can test it and let me know if I need to make any adjustments for the next batch. Nathan and I sold what stock we had to the vampire woman you told us about. Don’t worry—we were careful about our meeting spot. We have enough money to get us through next month, but we’re almost out of ingredients and will need more before we meet with her again the Friday after next. We hope to see you soon. Nadine misses you.
Much love,
Faith
My hands shook as I read over the letter. What did all this mean? Mom was brewing potions and selling them on the black market—and Dad was involved? Did she realize how much danger this could put her in, working with other supernatural races she couldn’t trust?
I had the horrifying realization that perhaps my mother understood the danger and did it anyway. I quickly checked the date at the top of the letter, and my stomach dropped. It was dated two weeks before my parents’ death. They had died on a Friday…
I shot to my feet, ready to go find Grammy and demand she explain, until I stumbled against the side of the bed when I realized I couldn’t ask her a damn thing anymore. Still, my heart pounded fiercely, demanding I find answers about what happened.
I stomped down the hall, toward the sound of voices in the den. I entered to find Verla, Professor Warren, and Hattie. They all wore serious looks on their faces, but their conversation died when I entered the room.
Verla’s features fell. “Nadine, what can we help you with?”
“I need to talk to you,” I stated firmly. “Now.”
Verla shot the others a worried look. “Yes, of course. Let’s go somewhere private.”
Verla led me to her bedroom. The moment the door closed behind us, I handed her the letter.
“Do you know anything about this?” I demanded.
Verla’s eyes scanned the words, and her shoulders dropped. “I’m afraid I do. Your mother came to me for help years ago.”
“She was selling potions? Verla, look at the date! Mom was going to meet a vampire the night she and Dad died. The police told me the brakes on their car failed! Tell me the truth. Was Mom killed by vampires?”
“No,” Verla assured me. “It’s true—your parents died in a car accident. It was an unfortunate accident.”
“But that’s where they were driving that night, wasn’t it?” I asked.
Verla dropped her gaze. “Yes.”
I began pacing around the room. “I don’t get it. What did Mom need the money for? Were my parents involved in something illegal, besides selling magical potions?”
“It’s not like that,” Verla insisted. “Your parents were honorable. They were only trying to pay the bills.”
