Spellweaver

by Tamara Grantham

  “Then let me ask you, Dr. Kennedy, in your medical opinion, what do you think is causing your mother’s delusions?”

  I scrambled to come up with an answer. “She may be suffering some untreated situational depression. I’m not really sure what else could cause it.”

  “You do realize that situational depression rarely causes the sort of delusions she is experiencing?”

  “Yes, I’m aware.” I rubbed the tension knot forming in my neck. Why couldn’t he just believe me? Maybe I should tell him the truth. My mom went to fairy world, and now she remembers it.

  “Perhaps her delusions aren’t caused from the concussion,” I suggested.

  “Then what else could they be?”

  “I’d have to guess, but she may have started taking an antidepressant without my knowledge. I’ve had clients who complain about Paxil and Sertraline’s side effects, particularly the disturbingly vivid dreams. It’s possible that the dreams could be negatively impacting her brain chemistry and causing her to think they’re real.”

  “There are no medications listed in her chart. If she has started a medication, it is very important for you to inform me.”

  Strike out. “No, she isn’t on medication. Not to my knowledge.”

  He nodded. “Then we are left with a mystery as to what is causing the delusions.”

  “Yes, I guess we are.”

  He eyed me. “Has she ever been treated for schizophrenia?”

  This was so not going in the direction I’d hoped. I shook my head. “No.”

  “In that case, I would like to give her a full psychological diagnostic immediately. I would also like to prescribe a tricyclic antidepressant. Usually, it is best to start with a low dosage, but in this instance, I believe it prudent to put her on a higher level. As you probably know, Elavil is an older drug, and it may have an increased risk of side effects, but she should be able to tolerate them.”

  My skin crawled at the mention of Elavil. He wasn’t going near her with that outdated, brain-screwy crap. There was a reason the FDA put black-box warnings on drugs.

  “Dr. Markov,” I said, “I’m sure that’s not necessary. She’s been living alone for seven years. If I help with her isolation issues, there will be no need for medication.”

  He adjusted his glasses. His silence told me he wasn’t thrilled with my solution.

  “I’ll make sure she stays constantly monitored. If her delusions worsen, you’ll be the first to know.”

  This seemed to get his attention. “You will have someone with her at all times?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even in hospital?”

  “Yes.” I cringed as I said it. How would I ever be able to stay with her and find the bloom?

  He nodded, seeming to come to an agreement. “Very well.”

  This seemed like a great time to change the subject. “Can I see her now?”

  “Yes, I think it would be best. You will be able to stay with her tonight, correct?”

  “Of course.”

  “Good.” He stood. “If you will follow me, I can show you to her room.”

  I walked with him out of the waiting area and into a wide, linoleum-tiled hallway. A few nurses passed us on our way to my mom’s room. We stopped in front of a door near the end of the hallway. Dr. Markov opened it, and I followed him inside.

  Mom lay propped up on a few pillows, her red hair still pulled into a sloppy ponytail. Her eyes were closed, and her face was ashen. I felt an energy flowing around her—not magic, exactly, but a spark of power emanating from her that filled the room. I’d always know that my father was a powerful practitioner, but was my mother trained in magic as well?

  I stood over her bed and took her hand as her eyes fluttered open. Dr. Markov stood beside us.

  “Mrs. Kennedy,” he said to my mom, “I’ll be back in the morning to check on you. Your daughter is here to stay with you. You remember your daughter, correct?”

  She didn’t speak as her eyes wandered to me. I still saw the wild in her, that look of a caged animal. She closed her eyes once again. “Yes,” she answered.

  “Very good. She will stay with you tonight. Get some rest. The nurses will be back to check on you soon.”

  Mom nodded.

  Dr. Markov turned to me and spoke quietly. “I will postpone the antidepressant drugs for now, but that is not my first choice. Should she get any worse, I will prescribe medication immediately. See that she has someone with her always. She has been speaking of spending time in a fairy world. I suggest you bring up memories from her past—something she would easily recall—a memorable holiday or family trip, perhaps. It’s important for her to remember her past correctly, or else I fear her delusions will worsen.”

  “I understand.” If only he knew how well I understood.

  He nodded and left the room, shutting the door with a click behind him, leaving me alone with my mother. I spotted a heavy vinyl chair in the corner. Wooden legs scraped across the room as I shoved the chair to Mom’s bedside. Sitting down, I hoped I could help her.

  “Are you going to help me remember, Olive?”

  She laughed a bitter, cheerless sound that made me feel uncomfortable. I couldn’t help but detect the sarcasm in her voice. Did she blame me for her lost memories? In a way, I guess she could. I’d never told her the truth.

  “The dragons thought it best if you didn’t remember. They thought that… ” How should I phrase this? “They thought it would make you a better mom to forget what happened in Faythander.”

  Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “A better mother? Did they hope I wouldn’t try to kill you again?”

  “Yes.” I swallowed. This was a conversation I’d never wanted to have.

  She sighed. Weariness tugged at the corners of her eyes and made her cheekbones seem to sag.

  “How much do you remember?” I asked.

  “Everything,” she said with bitterness. “I remember being sucked into that portal after getting beaten by Roger.”

  “Roger?” I asked.

  “Don’t ask. He was a worthless, awful person that I’d forgotten until now. I tried to leave him so many times. But when I’d finally had enough and had told him so, he beat me… he beat me so bad that I thought I would die. After that, he left me alone in my apartment, an inch from death. And then, that portal opened.” She shook her head. “When I entered Faythander, I thought I’d gone to heaven.” A small smile creased her mouth. “And then I met Pozin, your father. He was so kind, so forgiving, not anything like what I was used to. I wanted to know about the elves, the goblins, about the world. I had so many questions. And he had so many answers.”

  “When did you find out about the Caxon?” I knew it wasn’t a topic she felt comfortable with, but I needed to know the truth all the same.

  She smoothed her blankets before answering. “Not for some time. The short years that your father and I courted were the happiest time of my life. When we married, I was sure nothing could ever come between us. I believed our love was too strong to be broken. But I was wrong.”

  “What happened?”

  She stared out the window as she told her story. “Your father decided I needed a tour of Faythander in order to understand it better. The elves took pilgrimages every so often, so we decided to join them. He said he had high hopes for me. He said I was the first human he’d ever met who seemed connected with Faythander’s magic. I never did understand why he’d said that, but I couldn’t pass up the chance to see all of Faythander. I didn’t realize it at the time, but your father had other reasons for taking me with him.”

  “Because he was a member of the Gravidorum?”

  “Yes,” she answered. “I didn’t know it, but he was a spy for the Gravidorum. Our pilgrimage was nothing more than a mission to kill the goblins who’d learned the truth about their ancestry—the Caxon. When I learned the truth, I couldn’t go along with him. I told him I was leaving—that I couldn’t stand by and watch him slaughter a group of peop
le simply because of their ancestry.

  “He refused to let me leave. He turned against his own people after that and even went along with me as I joined the Caxon.”

  “But he never joined the Caxon, did he?”

  “No, of course not. He was a member of the Gravidorum. He always would be. It was a fact that stood like a wall between us. When I got pregnant, I’d hoped his resolve would change. It did—but not how I’d expected.”

  “Why?”

  “He cared for you, even before you were born. He thought the Caxon were a danger to you. I told him not to worry, although I knew he was right. When the Caxon approached me about the sacrifice, I felt appalled. There was no way I would kill my own child. But after time, I began to see their logic. They needed the sacrifice of innocent blood to free their people. There wasn’t any blood more innocent than a newborn child’s. What was one life that hadn’t yet started when it would free an entire nation of people?”

  Although her logic was hard for me to condone, I supposed I could see her point of view. It boiled down the age-old question asked by the great philosophers Spock and Captain Kirk: What was more important—to save the many, or to save the few?

  But her reasoning also frightened me more than I cared to ponder. She would have killed me. I wouldn’t exist right now if she’d gone through with it. She would have murdered her own child. It was a concept that deeply disturbed me on some primal level I couldn’t explain.

  “To think that I would consider sacrificing my… ” She stopped, then tried again. “My own child.” Tears filled her eyes. “The Caxon almost killed me for not allowing them to sacrifice you. And now, I wish they would have. I should have died that day. I should have.”

  “But you didn’t let them sacrifice me,” I said, remembering the vision I’d had at the Ever Root Tree. “You stopped them long enough for Fan’twar to save me. You gave me life, and for that, I’m forever thankful.”

  She nodded. A tear broke free and trickled down her cheek. I grabbed a tissue from a box on the nightstand and handed it to her. It killed me to see her this way, although the thought occurred to me that perhaps I was seeing my mother—who she really was—for the first time, not the emotionless zombie to whom I’d become accustomed, but someone with real feelings.

  Houston’s city skyline glowed through the room’s only window. The beeping sounds of the heart rate monitor broke up the silence.

  “Your father,” she said. “Is he alive?”

  She’d already been through a major shock today, I wasn’t sure if I should tell her. What if she passed out again? Or worse? She’d believed he was dead for so long, but I knew she’d loved him once. Maybe it would help lift her spirits to know the truth.

  “Yes,” I answered. “He’s alive.”

  She exhaled. “I see.”

  “He’s head magistrate now,” I said. “Politically speaking, he’s done well. He’s very admired by the elven council. Some even predict he may be appointed king someday.”

  “I’m not surprised. He was always so ambitious.” She stared out the window, at the city’s lights glowing through the glass, at our reflections.

  I’d never thought I’d looked like her, but now, I could see it. Our green eyes, the shapes of our noses, our petite lips, and our auburn hair. Everything except our ears.

  “To think,” she said to herself, “after all this time, he’s still alive.” She turned to me. “Does he ever…” She hesitated. “Does he ever speak of me?”

  “On occasion. I don’t spend much time with him because he’s very busy with his duties, but he has mentioned you once or twice.”

  She let out a soft chuckle. “He never was good at voicing his emotions. I suppose he’s remarried?”

  “No.”

  “No? That’s a surprise. Elves don’t think highly of bachelors, do they? It would be more advantageous for him to remarry someone of high rank. A noblewoman, perhaps. It would advance his career. He is foolish not to remarry.”

  I thought of Mom’s wedding ring sitting in my apartment. Father had created a memory charm and crossed worlds just to get it, but he had never given it to her. I supposed he never would. They lived such different lives now.

  “Olive, I have to ask,” she hesitated, “if… if any of those memories I had of raising you as a child… Are any of them real?”

  I stiffened. This wouldn’t be easy for her to hear. “Some of the memories were based on the truth—but those memories happened with the dragons, not with you.”

  She looked away from me. I noticed her hands trembling as she stuck them under the bedsheets. “So… I never raised you? Your birthdays, Christmases, your first smile, the diaper changes, midnight feedings, the first time you told me you loved me…” Her voice broke. “It wasn’t real?”

  “It was real,” I answered, “but it never happened with you.”

  “I see.”

  “I had a good childhood. You have nothing to be ashamed of.”

  She nodded. “In a way, this is a good thing. I feel like myself finally. We can start over—the way things should have been all along. I’ll sell my house; get a cabin on the beach. Maybe I’ll take up surfing.”

  “Surfing?”

  “Sure, it beats collecting fairy ceramics.”

  Her tone of voice sounded pleasant, but when I looked into her eyes, I saw pain.

  She shook her head. “Your whole childhood—I missed your whole childhood… ” She spoke to herself. “How can I ever make up for that?”

  My phone rang. I pulled it out of my pocket and read the screen. Miranda. I gave a sidelong glance at my mom. Should I take the call? I didn’t want to leave Mom at a moment like this, but what if something had happened to Miranda? I stood and walked to the corner to answer the phone.

  “Hello?” I answered quietly.

  “Olive,” she said in a breathless voice, as if she’d been running. “You have to… help. You need… to come.”

  “What? Where are you?”

  “At the docks. Please hurry! Zeke—Mochazon—he’s in trouble.”

  “Whoa, slow down. Why are you at the docks? I told you both not to leave the dorms.”

  “I know! But Zeke said he had to leave. He said he had to organize the other people to help you. I tried to make him stay. I swear I tried. But he took the flower, and I couldn’t stop him. And now I can’t find him. I’ve been looking everywhere. Olive, I’m so scared. Please come!”

  “Wait. Back up. Mochazon—Zeke—whatever his name is—has the flower with him?”

  “Yes. It looks like an old basketball. I know how crazy that sounds. He wanted me to keep it in my apartment. It’s been here the whole time. I would’ve told you, but he made me swear not to.”

  To think that the flower had been so close. I’d probably seen it and not even realized it. And a basketball? I supposed it was better than a giant gobstopper.

  I turned back to my mom. There was no way I could leave her alone, but the fate of Faythander was in the balance. Why did these world-ending dilemmas always seem to happen to me?

  “Look, Miranda, I’ll come as soon as I can. Try to hide somewhere until I get there. Don’t confront anyone.”

  “Okay, I’ll wait. But please hurry.”

  “I’ll do my best.” I ended the call and turned to my mom, although she no longer looked at me. She seemed to be staring off into space, as if her mind had traveled a million miles away.

  “Mom, I have to go, but I’ll make sure someone stays with you. Do you have any friends I could call?”

  She stared straight ahead, not meeting my gaze. “Olive,” she said quietly, “I named you Olive for a reason, but what was it?”

  “Mom?”

  She shut her eyes. Her voice drifted. “Olive means peace. Yes, that was it. My child would bring peace.”

  I shook her gently, but she didn’t acknowledge me.

  Her rambling troubled me. I couldn’t let Dr. Markov see her like this, and if he found out I’d left her al
one, he’d prescribe a medication—which, in my opinion, would only compound her problems.

  A knot formed in my throat. I had to do something to help her, and I knew the only way to save her was to restore the magic. But I couldn’t leave her alone. She needed someone here with whom she could connect once her memories leveled out. Someone she knew and liked. Someone who would help her remember the past. Someone who would help her remember me.

  I pulled out my phone and stared at the screen, dreading the phone call I was about to make. I hadn’t even erased his number from my speed dial yet.

  Oh, what fools we mortals be.

  “Brent,” I said after he finally picked up.

  “So, you broke up with me, and now you’re calling? What the hell, Olive?”

  “Sorry, I don’t really have a choice.”

  “What does that mean? Look, either leave me alone, or don’t. You can’t have it both ways. You can’t call me at midnight and expect me to just be okay with it. We aren’t a couple anymore—”

  “It’s midnight already?” I tried to find a clock somewhere.

  “It is. And most people consider it rude when exes call them at—”

  “Brent, shut up for a minute, all right?”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I need your help. Mom’s in the hospital, and I have to go somewhere. I need you to come and stay with her.”

  “What? Are you serious?”

  “I’m completely serious. I know I don’t deserve your help. I don’t deserve anything from you, to be honest. But this isn’t a favor for me—it’s for Mom. You know how much she’s done for you. Please, Brent. She’s really sick, and she needs someone here with her.”

  For once, the line went silent.

  “Why can’t you stay with her?” he finally asked, his voice quieter.

  “Because I’ve got to save the world.”

  “Sure, joke about it like you always do.”

  “Actually, I’m being serious.”

  He exhaled a long sigh. “You’re a strange person, Olive Kennedy.”

  “I know.”

  “You really need my help, huh?”

  “Yes. I really, truly do.”

  “And you do realize that it’s very bad manners to break up with a person and then demand they help you?”