2.?Next, add 5 drops of clove, 10 drops of cinnamon, and 15 drops each of lemon and orange. Fill the rest slowly with water.
??11??
SADIE’S HANDS SLIPPED FROM her grandmother’s shoulders, her brain incapable of processing. Death had a way of sneaking up on you, even when you were expecting it. It was absolutely impossible until it wasn’t. Only one thought took over as she stared at Gigi’s lifeless body. This was heartbreak number three. And if she’d known—God, if she’d known—she would have taken that tea Gigi had given her when she was thirteen, and thrown it down the drain with a healthy dose of sage to boot.
But she knew, as much as she wanted to, that wouldn’t have stopped Gigi from dying. Even if her grandmother hadn’t killed Julian, even if she hadn’t had the darkness tied to her, death would have eventually exacted its toll.
Sadie had expected to cry. But none of it seemed real. Grief was sticky, and it clung to her bones, weighing her down until she could barely take another step or formulate a coherent thought.
Seth, his face also dry, stepped away to call the coroner. He called Raquel next. Sadie heard her best friend’s voice on the other end of the phone. But when Seth tried to speak, he couldn’t. He stood silent, his mouth opening and closing but unable to find the words. Sadie took the phone from him and whispered a few words to Raquel.
On numb feet, Sadie walked to the back patio, the creaking door echoing in her bones. The scent of Gigi’s last cigarette clung in the air as she sat on the top step, hunched over her knees and trying to draw a breath through her chest, even though it was encased in iron.
It was then that everything crashed into her. Every small gesture, each word, story, gift, birthday card, phone call, and memory that she would never have again.
Her shoulders began to tremble until they quaked, and sobs wracked her body, so violent she had to grit her teeth to keep from biting her tongue. And then there were arms wrapping around her from behind, holding her together. She smelled Seth’s clean soap scent and cried harder. He held onto her until the tears stopped. It was short and violent and left her feeling no better than she had before.
“What do we do now?” she asked him.
“I don’t know,” he answered, sitting beside her, his shoulder leaning into hers.
As they sat in silence, a hummingbird darted in their line of sight, hovering a foot from their faces. Sadie knew it was the same one that had appeared when Gigi had taken her last breath. Its wings beat so fast they were a whir of iridescence, its bottle-green plumage shining with an ethereal light. It vanished after a few seconds.
Seth demanded that Sadie stay outside when the coroner came to take Gigi’s body. He didn’t want Sadie’s last image of her to be her lifeless body covered under a white sheet. He and Aunt Anne took care of everything.
The light was turning amber, the golden hour, and the air was filled with the scent of lavender and sorrow.
She wanted to get under her covers and sleep through winter and wake with the fresh shoots of spring, when breathing didn’t feel like dying. Gigi had sacrificed her whole life for her family. She’d lost a daughter in the process. And the darkness she’d tied to herself to ensure the twins’ safety—that protection was gone. One of them would soon have the power of a conduit running through them. They needed a sacrifice. And yet, there was less than a month left until the first full moon.
The smell of coffee and breakfast drew her into the kitchen. It was after midnight, but Uncle Brian was flipping bacon at the stove.
“She’d want us to eat,” he shrugged, his eyes red rimmed.
Aunt Suzy was pouring coffee.
Tava was making scrambled eggs.
Seth sat at the table, silent, his gaze faraway.
Anne, inexplicably, was making maple butterscotch walnut fudge.
“Mom always used to make it for us when we needed”—she stopped, cleared her throat, and swiped at her eyes—“when we were scared. She said it would make us strong.”
Sadie didn’t know what to do.
What were you supposed to do after the matriarch died?
“Here,” Seth pushed a cup of coffee in her hands and shoved a bear claw in her face, forcing her to take a bite. “I know you haven’t eaten. And Gigi stockpiled enough of these for the zombie apocalypse.”
Sadie wanted to laugh but couldn’t find her voice. Bear claws were one of the staples their grandmother always had on hand—along with cheese crackers, cheese Danishes, sourdough bread, and a drawer filled with whatever candy the discount store had on hand.