Chapter 13 Mulled Wine and Confidences

13

Mulled Wine and Confidences

There'd been precious little left of the fast-food breakfast smorgasbord. But while the red wine simmered, I'd cut the sole remaining bacon-and-egg biscuit into quarters and spooned pine nut hummus and harissa-spiced Greek yogurt into little bowls for us, along with cubed cheese, olives, and the seed-flour crackers I'd started buying because Ivy liked them, and then kept stocked because the taste reminded me of her. I topped off the impromptu mezze platter with some of the champagne truffles I always kept in the pantry, for dessert emergencies.

"A little unconventional, but I'm here for it," Ivy concluded, dipping one of the biscuit quarters into the harissa yogurt. "Mmm, who'd have thought cheesy bacon paired so well with a yogurt dip?"

"What can I say?" I snagged a quarter for myself. "Creative tapas are one of my love languages."

"Are they?" She gave me a little glimmer of a smile, lifting her mug of wine in a toast. "Good intel."

"Is it? Because I know I'm starting to sound like a broken record, but this is the second time you've shown up for me. And it seemed like…" I swallowed hard, past the dry lump in my throat. "It seemed like you were so firm yesterday at the orchards, about us being over over. Friendship didn't appear to be on the table, either, if that's what this is. Not that I wouldn't welcome it."

"It's not friendship," she said quietly, eyes on her plate. "Last night…I don't think I ever fully realized how bad it could get for you. You told me about it, but it was always the abridged version. Surface-level stuff. I didn't really appreciate just how awful it was, how difficult and dark it must have been, until I saw it happen. Not that it lets you off the hook for all the shit you pulled with me, but…" She shrugged, flicking me a little sideways look. "It does change things. I'm not sure how just yet. But it does."

"What can I do?" I asked, shifting in my chair until I was angled toward her, my heartbeat pulsing at the base of my throat. "How can I change them more?"

She rocked her chair a little, pushing off with her socked toes. "Well, like I said. You never gave me any details, except to say that after your mom died, you'd had a rough patch with controlling how much time you spent on the other side. I always felt how turbulent you were, how much pain you were still in, but I never understood it. What was it really like, when that happened? And why didn't you ever tell me more?"

I licked my lips, torn between fear of pushing her away now that we were at this tentative inflection point, and the urge to finally tell her everything. Hold none of the darkness back.

"Because I was ashamed," I said, so quiet it was nearly a whisper. "I was addicted to that feeling, Ivy. No one ever said it out loud, but maybe we all should have. It might not have been in the traditional sense, but functionally, that's what it was. Still is, I guess. And I hurt people who cared about me the most. I scared them so much, so many times."

"It wasn't your fault," Ivy said, twisting sideways to throw me a fierce look. "That's not how addiction works."

"I know that. Intellectually, I get it—but I don't feel it. I wanted to atone for that lost time and all the worry, to be a better person for them. And I never wanted to be in that space again, which at the time meant I needed a substitute, something to take the edge off a little. And for a while, new relationships were it. The butterflies, the sparks, that warm energy. The way you feel so buzzy and alive when things are just beginning. So I thought if I could have you to love, and the safety net of those more casual relationships, too…that maybe we could make it. That I wouldn't have to ever lose you." I caught the way she winced at that, and hastily added, "It was never about you not being enough, Ivy. Never. I was just so afraid that if I let go of the only antidote that's ever worked for me, I eventually wouldn't be able to resist anymore. And I couldn't do that to my family, Ivy. Or myself. Or you."

"I think I get it," she said, nodding slowly. "It…it really hurts to hear, I'm not going to lie. But it also helps to understand."

Tears stung in the back of my nose. "I should have explained it all to you at the time, I know that. And I'm so sorry that I didn't. That I felt like I couldn't. It was cowardly of me, and so unfair to you."

"It was," she agreed, and somehow that admission didn't even sting—because it meant I was finally doing something different. The right thing, maybe. "Do you think you could tell me more now, about how you got to that space in the first place? When spending time on the other side became so unhealthy for you."

"Ivy, I'll tell you anything you want," I said—and I meant it, with a ferocity that clawed at my chest with the pleasant pain of scratching at an itchy, healing wound. "Like I should have done to begin with. But it's ugly. It's fucking sad. Are you sure that…do you really want to hear it?"

"I do." She reached out in the space between us and took my hand, gave it a tight squeeze. "All of it. I can handle it, Dasha. I promise."

I blinked back tears, swallowed them down, holding off until I was sure my voice wouldn't waver.

"In the beginning, it wasn't a big deal," I started, swiping under my eyes with a thumb. "I've spent time on the other side since I was little. That much you know. But then after Mom died, it was such an easy escape. The only place I could leave the constant fucking grief behind. The way it feels on the other side, Ivy, it's…Mother and Crone, it's such euphoria, like your blood turning to hot honey. And it's gorgeous there, too, in this terribly bleak and deathly way. Dialed up high on the nihilism. Which, at the time, really spoke to me."

"Understandably," she said, with a small, sad curve of a smile. "Then what happened?"

"I'm not sure when I started losing control, exactly," I admitted, hanging my head, letting my pale hair curtain my face. "The hikes—that's what I called them, just to make it sound more acceptable—kept getting longer. There are these fields of black flowers there, and orchards with this weird not-fruit. And beyond them, there's this wide gray river like quicksilver that never moves. I'd sit on its bank for hours sometimes, just letting myself burn with that feeling. And it's not a Narnia situation over there, when it comes to time. I don't even know what the other side actually is—the afterlife, a parallel universe, some sideways realm?—but time does pass here, too, if you spend enough of it there."

"Oh," she said softly, seeing where this was going. "And then all of a sudden, you were there more than here."

"Yeah. I wasn't eating, sleeping, showering. For a while, everyone assumed it was just the grieving process. But then I started missing work, being late to family dinners at Amrita and Saanvi's, or just skipping them altogether. And at some point…" I drew a trembling breath, my chest aching with the memory. "I kind of decided I didn't want to come back at all. That I'd rather roam there for as long as I could, instead. I didn't get hungry or thirsty while I was over there, anyway. So why come back ever, when being here hurt so much? Couldn't see the point."

"Dasha," Ivy breathed, squeezing my hand tight. I clutched back at her just as hard, as if I'd finally caught a lifeline in a bucking ocean. "That's…I can't imagine."

"There was a part of me, too…" I closed my eyes, waiting for the intense swell of emotion rolling over me to recede a little. "I actually haven't told anyone this. But there was a part of me that kept thinking I might find my mom there. I do run into the occasional drifting shade, from time to time. So it's possible that it is a way station of some kind, if not a destination. I didn't…I didn't think it was very likely. But even just the ‘maybe' felt like more hope than I would ever feel again."

"Oh, Starshine." Ivy pressed her lips together, the corners of her mouth trembling. "I'm so, so sorry."

"Thank you." I dredged up a tremulous little smile for her. "Lucky for me, I have a bulldog of a sister and a stepmom who'd probably literally move mountains with her bare hands for me. They figured out what was going on, and one day, they came barging in here and found me in the stupor—I enter a sort of vegetative state when I slide over, and I have to will myself back. They both tried, but they couldn't budge me. So they called in reinforcements."

"Ah. Hence the Elena bitch slap. It's all falling into place."

I dragged my hand over my face, groaning. "Yes. Really a total champ at gratitude over here, someone get me my trophy. Anyway, as Avramov elder, and just an unconscionably powerful necromancer, Elena managed to hook her will into me and drag me out. Kicking and screaming, I might add. I wasn't any more gracious about it the first time around, though I managed to keep my hands to myself that time."

"Just barely, I bet," Ivy remarked wryly.

"Then she bound me with my garnet, using some ancient, really nasty bind that definitely isn't Grimoire approved. I couldn't take it off, couldn't slide across the veil. Hurt like shit if I even tried. Elena told me she wouldn't remove it until I was better, and had proven myself capable of managing my time on the other side. And if that turned out to be never, then so be it."

I closed my eyes briefly, my fingers tracing the garnet's now-cool facets, remembering that separate grief of being trapped, the agony of being unable to slide over the way I had done my whole life. The searing pain when I tested the limits again and again, and then the endless sense of longing.

I'd really become an expert at all the flavors of loss, given everything.

"So that was when you lived with Amrita and Saanvi for a while," Ivy said, her eyes huge and bright with sympathy. "They were taking care of you."

"More than that. They were basically teaching me how to be alive again, on this side of the veil. And it worked. It was slow going, but I got better, found my footing. Not in any perfect way, clearly. What I was doing with relationships…" I shook my head, guilt swelling against my ribs. "You were right, about what you said at Honeycake. When it came to you and me, it might not have been exactly what you thought, but I was being selfish, using other people. Of course I'm not the only one who matters. Whatever my anchor's going to be, it can't be a thoughtless pheromone parade. I'm so sorry I ever even suggested it to you."

She nodded warily, pressing her lips together. "So what are you doing instead? How are you coping?"

"I'm doing whatever I can think of to ground myself. Long walks with Amrita and Kira, refocusing on work, meditating like I told you." I wrinkled my nose. "Or trying to, at least. I still kind of suck at it. And…okay, this is going to sound ridiculous, but the theater over in Carbondale is putting on a production of Wicked . Absurd, I know, but Amrita roped me into auditioning. So come October, the sisters Avramov shall be playing Elphaba and Glinda."

Ivy cackled, actually throwing her head back. "Man, what a twist. Did not see that one coming."

I smacked her shoulder, grinning. "Are you mocking my rehabilitation? Ivy Thorn of the green-magic powers of root and earth, that isn't very nice of you."

"I'm not, I swear I'm not. But which…oh my god." She wiped at her eyes, still burbling with giggles. "It's too much. Which witch are you gonna be?"

"Fucking Glinda," I muttered, rolling my eyes. "Perfect hair for the job. I won't even have to wear a wig; they'll just put me in curlers. Amrita's going to play Elphaba, that lucky bitch. She gets to be green and everything ."

"Real-life witches playing iconic fictional witches." Ivy chortled to herself, shaking her head. "The level of meta humor here is wrecking me."

"Yes, I can see that," I retorted, arching an eyebrow at her. "Pretty rich, for someone who once drunkenly insisted on dueting Seal, Usher, and Miguel with me at Whistler's karaoke night. With your sunglasses on. Inside. At night."

"Come on. That was so different." She tipped her head back against the porch chair, still giggling a little. "You have to admit, we totally killed ‘Kiss from a Rose' and ‘Sure Thing.' Jury remains out on ‘Lemme See.'?"

"None of those songs are even duets! How did we pull it off?" I chuckled at the memory, shaking my head. "As my erstwhile karaoke partner, don't think you won't be coming to take in our grand debut. I'll be expecting my backstage rose."

"I assure you, there is no way I'm missing something like this." She crossed her arms over her chest, still fighting back laughter. "Okay, I can be chill, I really can. Seriously, though—good for you, Dasha. Fucking fantastic for you, even. You're putting in so much work. I'm…I'm really proud of you. And I'm so glad you finally trusted me with all this. That took work, too."

"You did grow me flowers to order," I reminded her. "I think maybe that deserves some confidences. But we're always talking about me. What about you? How have things been with Juniper?"

"Ugh." She scrunched up her face, tilting her head back against the chair. "I'm gonna need a refill for that, please."

Once I was back—having briefly peeked through the cracked guest bedroom door to determine that our stranger was still dead to the world, sprawled facedown across the twin bed like she'd collapsed onto it and never budged—Ivy accepted her mug with a deep sigh.

"June and I are about the same, I guess? We just never really recovered. And it seems so nuts to me, that we can't find a way past this. But she keeps pushing me away, and we were so close before. I don't get it. Like, you're going to let one argument ruin years of all the good sister stuff?"

This conflict between them was an old one, especially by Thorn standards; empaths that they were, most issues tended to be resolved quickly, given how uncomfortable friction was for all of them. But the previous year, a few months after Ivy and I had met, Ivy's little sister Juniper had taken over for Holly Thorn as May Queen, after a rogue Avramov curse had incapacitated Holly and taken her out of the running to lead the Beltane festivities. Holly was one of Ivy's closest friends, and a second cousin to her and Juniper. Ivy had felt that under the circumstances, it sent the wrong message for Juniper to leap at the chance to replace Holly as Queen—or for any of the Thorns to take her place.

"I still think she shouldn't have done it," Ivy said. "And that's the problem—I won't back down on that. It should have been someone else. A Harlow, a Blackmoore, whatever. But Holly isn't just family. She's our friend, mine and June's. We should've been circling the wagons around her, not stepping into her shoes while she recovered from something that nearly stole her magic."

"I hear you," I said, taking a sip. I knew all this, but I'd been hoping both their stances had softened in the meantime. "But she felt you were picking sides, right? Choosing Holly over her?"

"Yeah. Stealing her moment, or whatever." She snorted softly into her wine. "Which, honestly, is just silly. June's so talented; she could've been Queen this year, or the next. It would've happened eventually. There's no mad rush, seeing as it's almost always one of us anyway. But to hear her tell it, I undermined her in front of the whole family, took our cousin's side over hers. And I can feel how resentful and hurt she still is over it."

"I'm sorry. That's rough on both of you." Amrita and I, for all our playful squabbling, had never really had a fight like that, the kind that seemed to shake the foundation between us. We were too tightly bound together, and we'd experienced too much shared loss; even during my dark days, Amrita had never been truly angry at me. Just frustrated and terrified and sad, but never blaming me, no matter how difficult I made things for her and Saanvi.

"It doesn't help that our parents are with me on this. So you can imagine how it looks to June. Like I turned everybody against her. I barely see her these days, and we used to…" she pressed her lips together, fixing her eyes on the ceiling to clear tears from them. "We used to be so tight. Inseparable. And losing her while Delilah was so precarious, needing me so much…man, it was a lot on me."

Now I was the one to reach over and lace my fingers through hers, swinging our hands together in the distance between us.

"Do you ever wonder why life must contain such a very great amount of shit?" I mused. "Angry sisters who won't be appeased, needy best friends with memories on the fritz. Dead dads, dead moms. I'd be totally cool with the balance tipping the other way, if any of the higher-ups ever asked for my two cents. Like, when's that satisfaction survey landing in my inbox?"

She laughed through her nose. "Maybe it's the toll for living in a magical place like this. Price of admission?"

"Yeah, a magical place that turned into a gothic horror show last night." Something occurred to me—the look on Ivy's face when he had first manifested, what she'd said to me before I'd run to join the Avramov circle. "Hey, how did you even know to call him those things? Quencher of flame, destroyer, nemesis."

She nibbled on her lip, her face clouding. Beyond us, the sheets of rain seemed to gust almost intentionally, in billows that shook even the sturdy timber of the cottage.

"Honestly, I barely remember saying all that. I could just… feel him." She shuddered, drawing the blanket closer around her shoulders. "And I know this is going to sound fucked up, but he felt kind of like you , Dasha. Like your family's magic, the essential opposite of mine. But worse than that, because you all aren't malevolent. At least not for the most part."

I made a little face at that, then gave a grudging nod. Some of us did tend to be a little sharper than others.

"You just are ," she went on, "the way death is just a fact of life. But he's…he's hungry, and empty, and pissed. And something even worse than that, I think."

A brilliant bolt cleaved the sky, like an incandescent artery pulsing against the angry roil of clouds. A roll of thunder followed, so booming and instantaneous it sounded like the lightning might've struck only a few feet away. We both flinched, releasing matching little squeaks—then turned to each other, the startle melting into amusement.

"Should we go inside?" I asked her. "Not that it won't be as loud in there, but it might feel a little less immediate than this."

"Yeah," Ivy said, trailing her thumb along mine in a deliberate, languorous way that sent an instant spiral of heat curling in my center. Her dark eyes glowed against the rain-washed gloom of the porch, a heavy-lidded sultry look I knew well. "Hey, remember how we used to…nap together sometimes, during storms?"

"Oh, I do," I said, my voice emerging at least an octave lower than normal. "I remember those naps very, very vividly."

"Good. Cause it turns out, I'm kind of in the mood for one," she said, standing slowly enough to draw me up with her, close enough that the warm fan of her wine-scented breath brushed over my lips. "What about you, Dasha? Do you feel like a nap today?"

"Hells yes." I slid my palm against hers, fingers interlacing. Heat racing over my skin, chasing away even the memory of that last billow of damp breeze. "Never been readier for one in my whole fucking life."