Post Chapter Five - Hazel (Patreon)

A/N: Well this story went far different than I expected. This is post Chapter Five, after everyone has gone to be after the festival.  

Hazel sat outside the garden gates, late that evening, long after Milo had gone home.  The lanterns were now lit, and the festival was coming to an end. But there was one more thing that she had to do.

It was the same each year.  Hazel always told herself that this would be the last time and that she would conduct her goodbyes but duty and nostalgia took precedence far more than she would like to admit. Malcolm had tried to rid her of the feeling of obligation, but Hazel didn’t know if that would ever be possible. Especially with Malcolm gone.  Who else did she have left?

Walking to the edge of the burnt out alley, Hazel peered into the shadows.  They were especially restless tonight. They always were when the lanterns renewed. “Mom?” she called out to the dark.

At first there was nothing but a pregnant pause. Then, the shadows moved, scattering out of the way as the echo of footsteps sounded down the alley.  Hazel knew that sound, having heard it most of her life come up the back stairs.  Her right foot always came down heavier than the others.

Lucinda Albright appeared, materializing out of a black shimmer of magic that shouldn’t belong.  Her skin was a bit darker than Hazel’s, but her hair was the same chocolate, piled high upon her head and tied back with a scarf.  But unlike Hazel’s heart shaped face, Lucinda’s was sharp and angular, her cheek bones cut just beneath her eyes in a stark bruising slash.

“Must be a holiday,” Lucinda mused.

Hazel ducked her head. It was the only time she called her mother forward anymore.  Perhaps she should have been better about visiting, especially since her mother was stuck in this alley. But Hazel led a busy life. The apothecary kept her days booked.  Or at least that’s what she told herself.

“Hello, mother,” Hazel side, curtsying a bit with a bow of her head. “Are you well?”

Lucinda’s eyes were gold and sharp. “I’m dead, dear. What do you think?”

“I just meant…” Hazel trailed off. Some spirits lived perfectly fulfilling lives.  There was a little old man down near the peach stall at the rain market that passed his time collecting stories from the market goers and writing them down into monthly newsletters.

“I know what you meant, and it was a ridiculous question. Why am I here, Hazel? Are you planning on setting me free?”

“Mother, you know I can’t do that. The Night Market doesn’t work that way.” In order to set her mother free the hex the woman had woven into the fabric of reality would have to be undone. Then, Lucinda would have to be reborn once more from the Night Market’s will.

“If you were half as good of a witch as I was, you would have been able to do it by now,” Lucinda snapped. “And where is your sister? I notice she isn’t showing herself as of late.”

“He, mother. You know this. And Malcolm is… unavailable.” Malcolm wouldn’t have come here even if he could.  Never mind if he was wandering the ether out there, he was probably staying far far away from Lucinda. The two of them hadn’t seen eye to eye even at birth.

“Hazel,” Lucinda sighed.  “We are getting off on the wrong foot again. You know mummy never intends to. It’s just so hard here, darling. Being dead is a trial.”

“Then maybe you shouldn’t have lit the alley on fire,” Hazel muttered.

“What was that?”

“Nothing,” Hazel said quickly. She tried to twist her face into an encouraging smile. It wasn’t as if she was enjoying this conversation either.  “Mother, I came here because it is the Lantern Festival. I thought you and I could sit and watch the wisps tonight. Like we used to.” Every year they would picnic in the garden and watch the wisps flit from tree to tree, gathering energy from the lanterns and bringing their light down to weave among the herbs.

Lucinda sighed, sitting down at the edge of the alley. She could not cross over to where the patch of grass grew green and plush.  She had to stay in the world she created.  “I only ever did that to get you to stop yammering on about them,” she said.  “Really, Hazel. You were a difficult child.”

“I know, mother.” Hazel sat down all the same, looking out at the wisps.  They were already coating the basil in bits of light.

“How is that urchin friend of yours?”

“Milo is just fine,” she said with a sigh. “He really has been helpful to the shop as of late. He takes orders for me and rebuilt the entire back shed this year.”

“Yes. Well. You can do better than him.”

“I’m not dating him mother.”  Lucinda was certain Milo had stuck around for her.  To this day, Hazel doubted she even suspected he and Malcolm had been a thing.  Either that, or she ignored it completely.

“Good. I’ve raised you right then. He has no prospects, Hazel, and he certainly has only been sniffing around here to make you a notch in his bedpost.”

“Mother, Milo is my oldest friend…”

“If you got out more that wouldn’t be the case.”

Closing her eyes, Hazel stopped, counting to ten. Why did it always have to be this way? Each time she called her forward, Lucinda got worse and worse and Hazel had to wonder when the day would come that she would lose herself entirely to the anger that surrounded her.  Hazel knew it wasn’t her mother's fault. She knew that the dead sometimes just went this way. Though, according to both Malcolm and Milo Lucinda had always been cruel.  Hazel was just too wrapped up in her mother's approval to see it.

“Couldn’t we have a nice night, mother?” she asked softly.

Lucinda sighed. As if answering that very question was a trial. “Oh, alright.  You’re obviously in one of your needier moments. Come here child and hold your mother's hand.”  Hazel scooted towards her, reaching her hand across the burnt barrier to wrap within her mothers. It felt like ash and crackling smoke.  “What has gotten you into such a tizzy, child?”

“Nothing,” Hazel said honestly. She frowned almost immediately after that. “Or, well, I guess a small something. Mother, they say the Night Market is splitting in two.”

“It’s split in two before, and we survived.”

“I know that. I know that when we lived underground the world was supposedly ending but this one I think is a bit different. The sky is tearing.”

“Then do something bout it.”

“But what am I supposed to do?”

Lucinda rolled her eyes, tugging on her childs hand until she raised her chin and focused on the wavering form of her mother. “Hazel Albright. You come from a long line of powerful women.  What do you mean what should you do? You have all the ancient magics right there at your fingertips.”

“They require sacrifice.”

“If you wish to save the world then blood will have to be spilled.  Really, Hazel,” Lucinda admonished. “Do you think you can do something as drastic as saving the entirety of the Night Market by being kind? Death with need to coat the streets. Blood will have to be the new foundation. And this nonsense of keeping magic from our world will have to be cast aside. It is time for you and the other witches to stop living in the shadows and take the world back by force.  Unless, of course, you wish for everyone you know and love to die.”

“No. Mother, of course not…”

“Then you need to grow up and do something about all this because if you don’t, then the lives of the people around you will be lost.” Her face softened as she patted her daughter’s hand.  “But you will never die, Hazel. Mama has made sure of that. So you will spend your days knowing you could have done something, but you didn’t because you didn’t wish to take another life.” She clucked her tongue in disapproval. “Really. I don’t know where I went wrong.  You are far too soft.”

Hazel’s head was ducked downwards, eyes blurred and focused on her lap.  It was the same each time.  What her mother had left behind could be helpful, of this Hazel had no doubt, but at what cost?

“Oh, sweetheart. Don’t cry.” Lucinda’s voice sounded nothing but put out but it was not without sympathy. When tears dripped down Hazel’s cheeks, the woman only sighed.  “Let’s watch the wisps,” she said quietly.  “It has been far too long since you called me forward, and I would like to spend some time with you.  Could you be stronger for mama?”

Wiping at her eyes, Hazel nodded. “Yes, mother. Of course.”

“That’s a good girl. Now tell me that you love me.”

Looking at her mother, Hazel gave her a watery smile. “I love you.”

Lucinda only smiled thinly back, keeping her daughter's hand in her lap. Hazel, watched the wisps flit from the trees, her heart heavy in her chest.  On nights like this, she longed to have Malcolm home more than ever.