Page 53 of Gray Dawn

Softly fading notes of an old lullaby tickled the edges of my memories. No. Not a memory.

The rich voice singing rasped to a final hoarse note that was too raw to be fogged by time.

“Your mother will kill me if you don’t open your eyes soon.”

Pain radiated through every part of me. Every. Single. Inch. Even the ends of my hair hurt.

Slowly, I propped open my eyes and got a face full of Dad, who was cradling me in the dirt. “Ouch.”

“How do you feel?” His grip tightened around me. “Are you still in pain?”

“Crunchy.” I smacked my lips. “And yes.”

Apparently, when your own magic got cut off and someone else filled you with theirs like a vase, the end result was your insides burnt to a crisp. I could now sympathize with pellet grills everywhere.

Splaying his fingers, Dad gripped the ball of my shoulder and pushed healing magic into me.

The faint taste of hydrangeas hit the back of my throat as he channeled Mom’s magic, and stupid tears prickled the backs of my eyes as sweet relief coasted over me.

“I warned your mother I wasn’t a healer.” He jerked his hand back. “Should we?—?”

“It’s not that.” I sniffled. “I can feel Mom. In your magic.” I wiped my face with the back of my hand. “It’s just…nice. Knowing she’s still with us. That you guys get some kind of happily ever after.”

Not the one they deserved, but I doubted either of them would complain about the nature of their second chance.

“None of us have had time to fully appreciate what you’ve done for your mother, and me.”

“One foot in front of the other.” I let him help me into a seated position. “We can feel our feels later.”

If that last part confused Dad, well, that made two of us.

The world spun and dipped as I righted myself and coughed up a smoky aftertaste.

A prickle in my palm convinced me I had planted it in an ant bed, and I jerked my hand against my chest.

“What’s wrong?” Dad gripped my wrist, his expression tight. “Your magic is waking.”

“Can you tell if you loosened the Hunk?”

“There are seven anchors,” he reminded me, “one in each of your chakras.”

“How many did you remove?”

The seam of his lips gathered into a purse. “One.”

“Oh.” I tested myself, marveling at how well Dad had channeled Mom’s pure energy into healing me. “Do you think we have time to go again?” I checked my phone. “I was out for what? Thirty minutes?”

A glimmer of pride spread across his features before a darker emotion tempered it.

“I wish it didn’t have to be this way.” He cradled my cheek. “I vowed the day Howl told me she was expecting that I would never harm our child. I haven’t honored that promise.”

“You and I understand better than she ever will, what it was like being raised by the director.” I covered his hand with mine. “You’re not like him.” A phantom twinge in my hand where he used to rap my knuckles with his cane made them ache. “You’re not cruel for the sake of being cruel. You’re not hurting me out of spite. You’re helping me. And if it hurts, well, then, it hurts.”

The pain was worth ridding myself of the parasitic Hunk for good.

“One more,” he agreed when it became clear I wasn’t letting the matter drop. “That’s it.”

“For today.”