Our Crooked Hearts(68)

Fifteen years into our marriage, I finally told Rob what happened with Marion. I gave him the shape of it, the worst details scrubbed away. His response wasn’t what I expected.

“This is what you were referring to, wasn’t it?” He had his glasses on but his eyes looked unfocused, grave. “All those years ago, before Hank, even. That night I wanted to tell you I loved you.”

I didn’t pretend to have to think about it. “Yes.”

“You should have told me then,” he said, and left the room.



* * *



That night I woke from a dream I couldn’t remember, my body ringing with panic. I needed my daughter. I needed to hold her, see her face. When I stepped out of our room I saw a strange light coming from under her door. It was the chill shade of a scrying glass.

I crossed the hall in three bounds, unlocking the door with a panicked charm that made the index fingers on both my hands stiffen and curl.

Ivy sat cross-legged on the floor, a mirror propped in front of her. The slow gauze of scrying still lay over her irises, and she didn’t react to my presence right away. In the mirror’s dim pool hung a face, a neck, shoulders, glimpsed from the side so they were indistinct.

My scarred hand rang with remembered pain. This time I grabbed something on my way to the mirror.

It was a boot. Ridiculous. I stuck my hand in it like a big gothic hoof, shoved Ivy out of the way, and swung the boot into the mirror. The figure was gone but the glass still held a light-shot mist. It was the room’s only source of illumination. When the mirror broke we were left in the dark.





CHAPTER FORTY-TWO



The suburbs

Back then

For the fairy-tale span of three nights, Ivy talked to Marion. Every night she learned new things. What her mother did, who she really was. The hell Marion had lived in, all these crawling years.

I’ve watched you from the start, she told Ivy. I burned with pride to see your gifts grow. I know you’re the one who will save me.

Ivy was smart and brave and powerful enough to find the girl her mother had tried to kill. Now she and Marion would figure out a way for Ivy to bring her home.

All day Ivy was reading, searching, looking for anything that might help them. When her parents were asleep she returned to her mirror and to Marion.

When you’re scrying, the surface you use becomes your singular point of focus. The rest of the world simmers to gray scale. Ivy only registered a glimmer of motion to her right before something pushed her to the ground. A swinging object, a hideous crack, and she was crouching in darkness.

It’s a shock to come out of magic that way. Everything felt as chopped up and perilous as the mirror. Then the world came back into focus.

Her mother stood over her. On one hand she wore a big black boot.

Ivy was furious. Then she was glad. Her mother was just the person she wanted to scream at. “What are you doing in here? I told you to leave me alone!”

Mom flicked on the bedside lamp. By its light her face looked shiny, puffy with crying. “Save it. You need to eat something.”

“Eat something? That’s all you have to say?”

“You lied to me about getting a letter.” Mom sat on the edge of the bed. “We’re going to talk about what’s really going on. But first, yes, you need food or you’ll feel like absolute garbage.”

Ivy goggled at her, talking about food like the world hadn’t just blown to pieces. “You think I don’t already feel like garbage?”

“Yell at me later. Right now I’m gonna get you some crackers. And water.”

“Fuck water,” Ivy said. It was maybe the first time she’d ever said that word in front of her mother. “I don’t need water, I need to fix what you did. That’s what matters.”

Mom moved a hand over her forehead, restlessly. Her voice had nothing in it. “There is no fixing what I did.”

“I’m not gonna stop till I’ve done it,” Ivy said fervently. “You can’t stop me.”

Her mother didn’t reply right away. She wasn’t moving but you got a jittery feeling looking at her, the sense of detonations going off inside her head.

“Mom. You’ve got nothing to say to me?”

“I never should’ve taught you any of this.” Mom’s voice was low and certain. “I shouldn’t have even used the word magic.”

Ivy’s stomach burned. “I didn’t need you to help me find magic.”

“I gave you words for it. Spells and intentions and…” She looked at Ivy pleadingly. “I helped you grow strong.”

“I was always gonna be strong.”

Mom shook her head. “It didn’t have to happen this way. Just by working with you, I … corrupted you. My magic—it’s not clean.”

Her mom had never talked like this. She’d never looked like this, stripped-down and sorrowful. It was horrible and it made Ivy feel as if she were falling but it also gave her a flash of how it might’ve been all along, if her mother had been willing to show herself unarmored.

“Mom.” Ivy could hear in her own voice an appeasing note. She hardened her tone, hardened her heart. “I can fix it.”

“How exactly are you planning to do that? Eye for an eye? Are you gonna kill me?”