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Callie carefully reaches down, picks up the cup, and closes her eyes, and with a wave of her hand, the blood swirls up from everywhere it landed and settles back into the container. A frost then coats the base of the cup, turning the remains into a blood popsicle. Placing it on the desk, she suggests, “Might want to dispose of that. I don’t think the three second rule applies to blood.”
Mildred smiles at her, pride lighting up her face. “You’ve been practicing.”
“I have,” she replies, returning her smile with a slightly self-conscious one of her own. She tucks her hair behind her ears. “I based it on the spell you did to get all of the smoke out of my room that one time.”
“Very clever, darling,” Mildred praises, taking the few steps needed to give Callie a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”
“Yes, she can clean up a bloodstain. How very impressive,” Dalia mocks, seemingly unfazed. She points at Kaven and Ellessa, her eyes narrowing into icy daggers. “You two, however, are disappointments. Your lack of control is offensive, acting no better than dogs fighting over scraps.” She dismisses them with a wave of her hand. “Go attempt to make yourselves useful somewhere else, if only to prove you are capable of civility.”
“Apologies, Grandmother,” they state in unison, their eyes cast down, and shuffle toward the door. Mildred intentionally places herself between my cousins and Callie, her gaze threatening as they pass, and closes the door firmly behind them.
“Violet is far too indulgent with her offspring,” my grandmother observes with distaste before returning her attention to me. “As for you, sit down before you embarrass yourself any further. Your premature outburst led to a completely avoidable altercation.”
While my father looks at the cup on the table as if it’s possibly laced with something, my mother breaks away from him with a sigh. “Mother, I know bedside manner isn’t your strong suit, but perhaps try exercising some compassion when speaking to your grandson.”
Dalia doesn’t respond, simply staring at me until I do what she asks. With stinging pride, I allow Callie to set my walker upright before I sit back down. She places a comforting hand on my shoulder, and I do my best not to lash out at her. I love her with everything I have, but sometimes her caring acts feel like pity. Logically, I know they aren’t, but in my heart, it’s hard to see I have much worth in contrast to the other guys who are healthy and strong.
Surprisingly, Mildred places a hand on my other shoulder, squeezing it gently. “I promise we will find a way to cure you. Though difficult, this is only temporary. What’s important is that we have time to make you better.”
“Which was the point I was getting to,” my grandmother interjects, gripping the arms of her swivel chair. “Although your symptoms may appear to be getting worse, you should be able to withstand them until this spell can be removed.”
“That’s good news,” my father states, relief coloring his sharp features. “We’ll be able to beat this.”
“As long as the Volkovs do their part, yes,” Dalia adds, her cool eyes landing on Mildred. “With continued, sufficient blood, I can keep my grandson stable.”
My mother begins to cry, and when she rushes over to hug me, Mildred and Callie step back to give her room. “It will all be okay, I promise.”
“Yeah,” I reply with mediocre enthusiasm, forcing a tight smile on my face. Just because we now understand what’s wrong with me, it doesn’t mean we’re any closer to breaking the curse.
Mildred wraps an arm around Callie’s shoulder. “I think Miss Reyes has slept long enough to heal from her wounds. It’s time to wake her up and get some answers.”
Gently patting my mother’s back as she releases months of worry in the form of tears, I challenge, “She said she doesn’t remember, and trust me, she had no choice but to tell the truth.”
“I’m sure she couldn’t,” Mildred replies, her tone kind. “However, I know a spell to pull latent memories to the forefront of the mind. From what I gathered from her and the others involved, I should be able to reconstruct what was cast on you. Knowing how it was carrying out its directions was the final piece needed to attempt crafting a spell to cure you.”
White noise fills my ears, and I feel like I’m floating outside of my body. “Wait. You can really cure me?”
“Yes, Nolan,” she answers, her brown eyes tear bright and her smile warm. “It may take some time, but you will get better.”
It’s my father’s turn to race over, gathering my mother and me within his arms. Happy tears rain everywhere, but I’m still too shocked to react. Despite all my promises to never give up, I had. I’ve been like this for so long, I saw death as my release from the punishment of living. I don’t know how to comprehend existing without the pain.
Callie gets a determined look on her face as she meets my eyes. “Let’s go wake her up then.”
“Not today,” Mildred insists, focusing her attention on her granddaughter. “Your birthday is tomorrow, and I believe you have an appointment to have your nails done with Mei this afternoon.”
“This is obviously more important,” Callie counters, stepping away and placing her fists on her hips. “Mei will understand.”
“I want to meet with the other girls first and gather what I can from them before I attempt to retrieve memories from Gina,” she explains, her expression one of understanding and limitless patience. “Any spell that affects the mind can have devastating, unforeseen consequences. The more precise I can be, the better our chances are of getting the information we need.”
Guilt fills Callie’s eyes as she looks at me. “How can I celebrate my birthday when we’re so close to finding a cure?”
With extreme effort, I untangle myself from my parents, stand up, and walk over to her. Cupping her face, I stare into those eyes I love so much. “You deserve a day to celebrate you.” My thumb brushes over her lips when she is about to argue, and a teasing smile pulls at the corners of my mouth. “You heard my grandmother, I’ll keep. Besides, I picked the best present out of everyone, and there’s no way I’m missing seeing you open it.”
“Okay,” she replies reluctantly, her brows furrowing.
I drop my hands from her face to give her a quick hug, and then I gently spin her toward the door. “Have fun getting your nails done. Tell Mei I say hi. Send pictures when you’re done so I can properly compliment them like a good boyfriend.”
“I’ve never gone to get my nails done before,” she comments absently, looking down at her fingers.
