Hazel - Between Books (Patreon)

The ash had cooled in the hearth, a soft mound of grey with flecks of lavender and sage.  Hazel crouched before it, kneeling on the apothecary floor. Behind her, the floorboards were still split from Malcolm’s return but the gate had all but crumbled away.  The worst of the glass had been cleaned up.  Hazel had done most of it alone.  No longer did she have the help from those soft eyes.  Malcolm had promised he would come and try but he had bigger things to do she supposed.  And Milo… well, Milo probably wouldn’t be coming around anymore.

Dipping her finger within the burnt remains of last night's fire, she began dragging the ash in intricate circles around the blackened brick floor.  Small flecks of fire guttered beneath her fingertips, sinking into the sigil before disappearing into the foundation of the shop.  It was odd, in the end.  Hazel hadn’t been the one to start the fire for so long.  It had never been a comfortable action for her.  Since the ball, she had to convince herself each morning to light the flame. Taking the match and striking it. Setting it against wood. Trying not to remember the night of the fire and the heat upon her face. So many souls had perished in that alley, waiting hopefully for a moment to return.

And then Hazel had taken that opportunity from them as well.

“Oh, my darling.”

Startled, Hazel swept her hand across the ash, watching the magic beneath her fingertips die. As she stood, she wiped her hands off on the folds of her skirt, turning towards the front door.

“Mother,” she said with a small smile. “I did not hear you come in.”

“Your open sign is not on,” Lucinda said, marching into the apothecary. Her home.  This had been Lucinda’s home long before Hazel and Mal had ever been born.  The structure had changed and most of Lucinda’s touch had been eradicated, but Hazel had always felt the ghost of her mother within the corners of the shop. Like blackened and burnt shadows, reaching for her.

“I don’t really think there is much in the way of customers out there right now,” Hazel said.  She had been making tonics to parcel out where she could, pushing herself to leave the shop more and more.  Each night she returned, exhausted from the panic that seized her chest.

“Yes, your Milo saw to that.” Lucinda crossed the room to where the old gate was, her pointed boots scattered the last of the willow that lay there.  She looked at the back wall where the tonics and dried herbs were stored, clicking her tongue at what she saw. “Where are you getting your supplies, my dear.”

“I grow a lot of them.” Halting halfway to her mother, she looked down nervously. Lucinda hadn’t asked her to approach. A faux pas she had learned the hard way when her mother had been working.  “I’m a little sparse right now. The market got cold early this cycle.”

“Hmm, yes.  You’re going to need to combat that. I wonder if my suppliers in the gray market still are up and running.”

“The gray market is gone, mother. Has been for years.”

Lucinda turned to her daughter with a pinched look on her face. “I am sure that is what they wish for you to believe, dear, but it is doubtful the gray market has been killed. I’ll make some inquiries. You are severely lacking on some of the most basic components. I don’t even see bone marrow.”

Marrow from the young.  That’s what Lucinda was referring to. Hazel had done away with the large jar of it the second the shop had become hers.

“I don’t deal in hexes anymore. I deal in remedies.”

Lucinda didn’t respond to that as she continued to take stock of what her daughter had on hand.  Hazel twisted her fingers within the holes of her skirt.  It was remarkable how quickly she felt like a child again in the presence of such confidence.

“Have you spoken to your brother?” she called, pushing aside jars and murmuring a list to herself.

Malcolm had been here the first few days but after, he had wandered into the market with the intent to set this right.  Hazel knew that meant he was looking for Milo.  She hoped he was safe.  With the way the walls were moving, she wasn’t even sure if he could get back to her. The streets were too dark for Hazel to venture far enough to see if she could get to his apartment.

“A little.”

“Does he know I’m back?”

Swallowing, Hazel tried not to let her head fall in shame. “No.” Malcolm would not be pleased and Hazel had to wonder if he would storm in here and try to kill Lucinda himself.  “I– he’s only recently returned. I think maybe some time for him to acclimate to this world again might be the better option.”

“Acclimate to a world that is in chaos? Oh, my darling girl, there will be no acclimating to this.  The home he remembers is gone. He will need his family now.”

“Mother, I don’t think–”

“Yes yes. I know him and I didn’t see eye to eye but I told you Hazel, I wish to change that. How am I to prove to him that I only have his best interest at heart if he isn’t even give the opportunity to know me?”

Hazel knew this was more of her problem than anything else. Lucinda was right. She should at the very least tell Malcolm that their mother had returned. Let him decide what kind of contact he would like with her. It was so easy to pretend that she hadn’t told him due to his absence. But if Malcolm were to walk through the front door tomorrow, Hazel knew she would conveniently forget to say anything.

Across the way, Lucinda sighed. It sounded like it was born of irritation but when Hazel looked up, there was compassion on her mother's face.

Crossing the room, she took Hazel’s hands within hers, pulling her close. Hazel wondered why she did not get Lucinda’s height. She barely made it to the woman's chest.

“I know, my darling. This is all so much for you. Malcolm left you for years. Your friend betrayed you. And now your love has died.  I understand this to be far too much. I do not wish to push you, my dear. If we need to wait to tell Malcolm, we will wait.”

Hazel nodded. “I think it would be best.”

“You know him better,” she said.

It was the first time Hazel had heard any sort of concession like that from her mother.  Even if Hazel had been right in the past, Lucinda had never admitted it.

“I just hope he is not spending too much time on that boy.”

“We need to find Milo,” Hazel said softly.

“For what reason, dear? Hasn’t he done enough damage?”

Hazel frowned.  What Milo had done was unforgivable. She didn’t understand any of it. And then he had run.  That was the part that hurt her the most. If his intentions had been pure, why did he run?

“Because,” Lucinda said, stroking her hair, running her fingers down her arm.  “Boys like that are cowards. They take the path of least resistance and then expect everyone to fall in line. Don’t forgive him, Hazel. Harden your heart to his lies.  Don’t let him continue to hurt you. He took the one you love.  He was unhappy and scared and he sacrificed the good in your life for his own gain.”

Tears slipped from her eyes. “It hurts. It hurts so much.” The sob ripped from her throat in a painful gasp, her knees buckling. Lucinda held her tight, hushing her.  How could he do this to her? How could Milo take the good in her life like that? All because he had none? Did he truly need to drag everyone down to his level?

Curling into her mother, Hazel brought her hands up to cling to her. She just wanted them back. She just wanted to be held. To slip into bed next to them and look into those soft eyes. Feel their skin upon hers.  Why did they have to go from her so soon?

“Will they return?” Hazel asked Lucinda. “You always told me that those of the Night Market will return.  Couldn’t they?”

Lucinda sighed. “I really don’t know, dear. More research would need to be done. Would you like me to look into it for you?”

Hazel nodded, pulling away and wiping her face. “Maybe- maybe you and I could do it together?”

Still holding her hand, Lucinda squeezed it, giving her daughter a smile. “I would love nothing more, my daughter.”

A small part of Hazel’s chest felt sewn back together with those words.  Perhaps the rest of the world had abandoned her, but her mother was here.  She had made mistakes but she was the one that was here now. And that had to count for something.

Hazel needed it to count for something.