sanctuary | on hold indefinitely

five | absence

After everything that had happened today, Greer hadn't felt like going home and facing more lectures from her grandfather. Instead, she had made the hour drive to her aunt's house. It only occurred to her when she found herself standing in the half-emptied living room that she had no idea what she was doing here, only that she had needed an escape and this had been it—or, it had been once. Now, looking at the piles of cardboard boxes and the white sheets placed over the rest of the furniture, it only reminded her of her aunt's absence.

The blinds were closed. She opened them, the grey afternoon light slipping in and falling on the wooden floorboards in horizontal lines. It was raining outside; a heavy, relentless shower that pattered on the windows as though waiting for someone to let it in. If her aunt was here, she would have made Greer a cup of hot chocolate and fetched her a blanket. The thought made Greer smile and she wandered into the kitchen, glad to find the kettle hadn't been packed up yet. She turned it on, the sound of the water beginning to bubble breaking the eerie silence.

She hadn't thought to check for mugs or hot chocolate, and she opened the cupboards in a desperate search. They were empty, the shelves stark white and full of dust. For some reason, the sight of them brought tears to her eyes. If she could just make a hot chocolate, she might have felt that her aunt was still here.

The kettle reached its boil in vain, whistling as steam rose from its mouth. Greer closed the cupboards with an involuntary slam and left the kitchen before the familiar grief settled over her again. She climbed the stairs, stopping when she found a picture hanging on the wall of the staircase. It was her aunt and her husband on their wedding day. Their smiles were barely contained by the wooden frame of the picture. They were gazing at each other, the sun setting behind them, she in white and he in grey. Greer had seen the picture a million times before walking up and down these stairs. Now, she pulled the picture from the nail it hung from, collapsing onto the step she had been stood on with heavy limbs and an even heavier heart. This was how she remembered her aunt: happy, in love, warm, with hair the colour of fire and eyes identical to her own. She had been more her mother than her aunt, really. Now that she was gone, she felt as though she was wandering around with a hole in her chest.

"I miss you," she whispered, her finger pressing against the cold glass that protected the photograph. Then she traced across the line of her aunt's dress until she settled on her husband's face. Michael's expression was full of love, just as it had been the whole day. Greer still remembered their first dance, the way he hadn't taken his eyes off her the whole time. She had always wanted a love like theirs, but she wondered if it made any difference in the end, when they were set alight and turned into ash. "Both of you."

"I miss them, too, sweetheart. We all do."

Greer jumped at the voice, finding her grandmother standing at the bottom of the stairs with one hand on the railing as though she had been about to climb them. Her eyes were watery, her face pale as she smiled sadly up at Greer. Greer stood up, feeling as though she had been caught doing something she shouldn't, and hooked the picture back on the wall.

"Nanna," she said, wiping her damp eyes quickly. "I didn't know you were here."

Mavis shrugged as Greer descended the stairs to meet her at the bottom. "I thought I'd get some more packing done. Rough day, love?"

"A little bit." Greer feigned a small smile. "I'm okay, though."

"Of course you are." She pulled Greer into a hug. Greer closed her eyes, the scent of her nanna's floral perfume setting her slightly at ease. "It's going to be hard for a while, but we're Reid women. We'll be okay. I promise."

"I know. Thank you, nanna." She pulled away, letting her grandmother grip her hands with her delicate, wrinkled fingers. "There's actually something I wanted to talk to you about. I want to go to a necromancer. I want to know for sure she was in one of those fires, and if she was, I want to know why. I want to know who did it."

"Oh sweetheart, I know you mean well, but that's not a good idea. You need to let yourself heal now. The past is the past, and there's nothing you can do to bring back Clair."

"But we can bring her justice; find out if it really is the humans doing this to us again and stop them from hurting more of us." Her eyes were wide with the desperation of trying to make her grandmother understand, but Mavis was shaking her head sadly, and Greer knew she wasn't really listening.

"It's not your job to do that, Greer. We have to move past this."

"We're Protectors. Of course it's our job," she argued, her voice rising. "Nanna, please—"

"No, Greer." Mavis's voice was cold as stone, and she looked surprised even at herself. "Enough of this. Necromancy isn't safe or ethical and I won't have my Clair caught up in it. She deserves to rest in peace. I know you mean well, sweetheart, but there are just some things we can't control. Someone will put an end to this, I'm sure, but it won't be you. I'm sorry."

Greer's eyes pricked with tears again, and she looked away, sitting on the bottom step. Standing suddenly felt like too much of an effort.

Mavis followed, sitting beside her and placing a freckled hand on Greer's knee with a gentle pat. Her nails were painted a light shade of green after the funeral yesterday and peeking from her sleeve, slightly faded, was the bottom of her shield tattoo, the one that matched Greer's and every other Reid Protector's. "Now, why don't you tell me about your day. What's gotten you so worked up?"

Greer looked at her grandmother, having a strong suspicion that she already knew about the Dark witch who had come into the shop this morning. Her grandfather would have come home ranting and raving about it, she was sure. There would be no harm in sharing her side of things. She trusted her grandmother. "A woman asked for my help this morning in the shop. She was Split: half Dark. She insisted I help her."

"And did you?" Mavis asked knowingly.

Greer shook her head. "I wanted to, but Granddad saw her leaving. He said if I help her, he'll take the shop back."

"He's a tough cookie to handle sometimes, your grandfather."

"He shouted at Shyla, too. Then, of course, Shyla blamed me for it and we had an argument. He said I was weak. I think maybe ..." she stopped, biting her lip to keep it from wobbling. "I think maybe he was right. I came here because Aunt Clair would know exactly what to say."

"And what do you think she'd say?" Mavis smiled softly, giving Greer's knee a light squeeze in reassurance.

Greer sighed, looking up as though that would give her the answers. She imagined Clair sitting on the sofa in the living room, sipping hot chocolate from a large, patterned mug and laughing as Greer imitated her grandfather when telling the story. "She would say I'm my own person and I need to stop doing things to please everybody else. But you and I both know that when it comes to Granddad, that's not possible. If I step out of line, I'll lose everything, and so will Shyla."

"I'll talk to granddad. He's grumpy, I know, but I don't think he'd be so cruel. Deep down he's a big softie. He loves you dearly, sweetheart, even if he doesn't show it often."

"I know," Greer whispered.

"Shyla will come around, too. You two have grown up together. It's only natural to have a few tiffs every now and again. As for you, I think you should listen to Clair. This lady needs your help, yes?"

"Apparently."

"And you want to help her?"

"Apparently," repeated Greer, remembering her encounter with Devan. She had been stand-offish and difficult to read, but Greer had seen something beneath her façade, something that appealed to her Protector's instinct. She needed her help.

"Then perhaps you should." Mavis gave Greer one more gentle pat before standing up, using the banister as support. "Trust yourself, sweetheart."

"But Granddad ..."

She put her hands on her hips, her glassy eyes glinting with mischief. "Granddad need not know everything, had he?"

"Nanna ...," Greer gasped, feigning shock. "Are you telling me to lie to your husband?"

"Not telling, merely giving my permission to fib a little. What he doesn't know can't hurt him. Now," she said, offering a hand out. "Are you going to help me pack up a few of these boxes or not?"