Blood & Wine

24 | Eden

My mom stood in front of me, a scowl on her face. She looked me up and down. She was a beautiful woman, even when she looked intimidating as she did now. I knew she was about to yell at me for not calling her, for not updating her, for messing up.

Instead, she opened her arms. "Mary Meredith won't leave me alone," she told me, stepping forward when I wouldn't move. "She insisted I check in on you, to which I denied it because of course if my daughter needed me, she'd call."

I buried my face into her shoulder. "I'm sorry. I just know you're busy with—"

"You are still my child, too," she said, hugging me tightly. She pulled back, eyeing me. "It's a shame I have to wait for you to fall asleep to stalk your dreams to talk to you."

I grinned at her. "I'm busy. This is overwhelming. Rebuilding the Coven, dealing with Dasher."

"Dasher? Imelda did get to you." She swore. My mother's element was Spirit. The dead had always talked to her, protected her, and she had a closer relationship with them than the living. They had led her to my father. They had only led me into more problems, though. With the exception of Mary Meredith. "I told her I would handle it, but she was too impatient."

"Handle it?"

"I couldn't find the werewolves, but I buried the bodies for her. I made sure the spells were cast so no one would look too far into it—as far as everyone knows, it was a suicide-homicide, and Dasher escaped by the skin of his teeth, but is currently with family recovering," she explained. "I didn't have public dealings with Imelda for fear of upsetting my mother and the Coven, and I regret that. But that doesn't mean you take on issues I should've handled."

I shrugged. "Too late now. He's a part of the Coven."

She swore again. "Dammit, Eden." Unlike me, my mother was not an immaculate woman. She usually wore sweatpants or leggings, and when she did dress up, she had a frown the entire time. Her hair was either thrown into a bun or in loose, untamed curls all over her head like it was now. "Well, how is he?"

"As you would expect a young werewolf to be."

"That could mean a lot." She waved her hand, and chairs appeared in the middle of the park. In my dream, the people around bypassed us like we weren't there. When I was younger, my mom would sneak into my nightmares and make them good dreams by arming me with weapons to defeat whatever scared me. "Is he angry? Deranged? Fighting all the time? How is my nephew handling this—as well as what happened?"

I sat down across from her, putting my chin in my hands. "The Moon Goddess appeared to him and took away the pain, but he suffers from guilt, according to Calla. He is also angry, deranged, always attacking Fynley, and possessive." I didn't mention how I had failed. If Mary Meredith had visited my mom, the old gossip would've told her everything.

My mom arched an eyebrow, impressed but not showing it. "The Moon Goddess. I knew he was destined for great things when Imelda came to me when he was born," she said, almost to herself.

"You knew about Dasher?"

"I know about everything, sweetheart." She reached over and flicked my nose like she did when I was younger, and I laughed. "You think I don't check in on you sometimes? Even those disgusting dreams you've been having about—"

"Mama!"

She laughed, slinging her arm around my shoulder and pulling me to her. "I know I've said what I said about werewolves, but if you like him—"