“Sweet Jesu.” A muscle flexed in Lancelot’s handsome jaw, and his eyes looked . . . haunted. As if he was remembering something just as unpleasant.
Ridge caught Kat’s cold hands in his own big, warm ones, stilling her mechanical efforts with the coffee. “I’m sorry.”
“I know.” She managed a tight smile for the compassion in his eyes. “I ran back home, screaming.
Mom didn’t believe me at first, thought I had to be wrong. But then we walked to the lake . . . ” Kat broke off for a long moment. “We spent Christmas day talking to cops.”
“And you were ten years old.” Lancelot rubbed both hands over his face. “Merlin’s balls, girl, I’m sorry.”
Now that she’d started telling the story, Kat felt unable to stop. “Some of the cops thought it must have been some kind of animal. Maybe a bear. Something big, with claws, though nobody could say how a bear had gotten to the middle of Lakeside Village without being seen.” Next to her, Ridge stiffened and shot Lance a significant glance.
“Mom and I knew they were wrong. It had to be Jimmy Chosen, especially since it turned out there was no Jimmy Chosen anywhere in town. Not enrolled at the college, not anywhere. And he was never caught.” She stirred her coffee slowly. “Ever since then, we’ve tried to deal. I started taking martial arts, became something of a jock in school. Ran track, played basketball, the whole bit. Momma tried to hold it together for my sake, struggled with periodic bouts of depression.”
“But it got worse.” Ridge rested a hand on her knee, a silent offer of support.
Kat nodded. “When I left home at twenty-one, determined to become a cop, Mom attempted suicide the first time. She was convinced I was going to end up like Karen. So I gave up the cop idea and moved back home. Got a job at the fitness center I worked out at. Spent the rest of my time trying to make sure Mom kept taking her meds.”
“And then Grace showed up.” Lancelot picked up one of the coffee cups and started adding cream and sugar, his movements as mechanical as her own.
“I had hoped that by gaining the Gift—by becoming a witch—I could find Karen’s killer and finally get some justice. Lay Mom’s ghosts to rest.” Kat’s fingers stole to the heart locket.
Ridge nodded at it. “That’s hers, isn’t it? Karen’s?”
“She was wearing it when . . . I hoped I could use it to home in on him. The killer. But Mom—she’s never liked me getting out of her sight, particularly not with a man. I thought she’d know I was safe with you, especially after Grace worked her magic. But apparently her old demons got the better of her.”
A long silence trailed by, broken only by the hum of the refrigerator.
She’s stable.”
Kat looked up. Grace smiled at her from the door to the living room. She looked drained, pale. “I’ve saved her life, repaired the worst of the damage to her body. But her brain . . . She’s very, very ill.” The woman dropped into the chair next to her husband. “She’s been suffering for years. It’s going to take a lot of neurochemical work, plus some very delicate repairs of all that burned-in psychic trauma. All beyond my skill. I’ve made arrangements to gate her to the Healing Clinic.”
“Good.” Lancelot gave Kat a reassuring smile. “They’ll be able to help your mother there.” Kat frowned. “Healing Clinic?”
“The Magekind can heal most physical injuries, but sometimes we—or our mortal relatives—need outside help,” Grace explained. “There’s very little the clinic’s healers can’t do something about.”
“Good,” Kat said grimly. “My mother needs all the help she can get.” SEVEN
When the four trooped back upstairs, they found Mary still deeply asleep, though Grace assured Kat it was no longer the unhealthy coma they’d found her in.
Grace conjured another gate, and Lancelot carried Mary through it, directly into the room his wife had arranged at the clinic.
It was reassuringly pleasant, Kat decided, glancing around as she helped tuck her mother into bed. The furniture was homey rather than the kind of stark, utilitarian setup one would find in a regular clinic.
The blond wood of the bed, nightstand, and dresser was engraved with twining vines and flowers, and the thick quilt appeared handmade.
Her attention fell uneasily on a pretty ceramic pitcher and matching mug on the bedside table. Both were painted with elegant pink roses. “You may want to take those out of here,” Kat told the woman Grace had identified as the healer on duty. “The mood she’s in now, she might try to break one and use the shards on herself.”
The healer, a slender redhead, gave her a steady, sympathetic look. “You couldn’t break either of those with a sledgehammer. Don’t worry, dear. We’ll take good care of your mother.”
“When will she wake up?”
“We’ll keep her asleep until Petra, the spiritual healer, arrives in the morning. They’ll begin work then.
We’ll call you when she’s recovered.”
Kat frowned. “Shouldn’t I be there when she wakes? Mom won’t know where she is.”
“She won’t be afraid, Kat. Petra is very good with this kind of case.”
“She is,” Lancelot put in. “Petra helped my daughter-in-law Caroline deal with the aftereffects of the Dragon War.” He grimaced. “Post-traumatic stress from the final battle has kept all our healers busy.”
“Yeah,” Ridge agreed. “I’ve been meaning to see Petra myself.” Well, that was a pretty solid recommendation. “So when will I be able to see my mother?” The healer shrugged. “I can’t say for sure, since I’m not a psyche specialist. But given her condition, I’d say at least a week.”
“By then, Petra will have her healthier than she’s been since Karen died,” Grace told Kat kindly.
“She’ll feel as if she’s been reborn.”
Kat stared in astonishment. “In one week?” God, what if they’d been able to get this kind of help fifteen years ago? How much pain could have been avoided? For that matter, what about all the other mentally ill people on Earth? What about all the sick and dying, the starving, the victims of war and genocide? “Well, aren’t we fortunate,” she said, then winced at the bitterness in her own voice. She sounded like an ungrateful bitch. “I’m sorry. Thank you so much for everything you’re doing for my mother. I’m very grateful, and I know she will be.”