3. Three Maeve

CHAPTER THREE

THREE: MAEVE

S hit, shit, shit.

"Um, it's kind of a long story."

Kelly glared at me. "I've got time."

"Right." So here it is; I'm really a witch, and my coven of hot guys – all of whom I'm sleeping with – have just completed a releasing ritual that seems to have brought my mother back from the dead. We're hoping if Rowan can revive her then she'll be able to tell us exactly how to stop the fae who are threatening to raise the souls of the restless dead to lay waste to the earth.

Yeah, that's not going to fly. It sounded like the plot of some stupid teen witch TV show. The trouble was, I was frantically trying to think of another explanation that Kelly would believe, and I had nothing. I was never good at creative writing at school.

"Maeve?" Kelly prompted me.

"Yes. Right. So…" I glanced at Arthur with his hair wild around his face and his sword still hanging at his side, and a lie fumbled its way to my lips. "This woman is a friend of Arthur's from… from his medieval reenactment club. They were going to have a training weekend here but Arthur cancelled it because we were travelling, only she didn't get the message. She's a bit eccentric and old school, and doesn't have a mobile, you see. So… yeah. She came and the castle was all locked up and she didn't have any money and it looks like she was just sleeping in the woods and she must've stumbled into the briar and cut herself. We just found her and she's a bit messed up so Rowan's giving her medicine…" I trailed off.

Kelly isn't going to believe this absurd story. Maybe you should just tell her the truth, or at least part of it. It would be easier than lying, especially if this woman wakes up ? —

"Is that true?" Kelly narrowed her eyes.

I opened my mouth, but I couldn't push the words out. Kelly tapped her nails against the cuff of Arthur's hoodie.

"Kelly, I?—"

CRASH.

Startled out of my stupor, I whirled around to see Aline sitting up, clutching her chest as she wheezed and spluttered. Her eyes bulged out of her head like a demented frog. Rowan's pestle lay in pieces on the tile.

"Don't let her roll off," Rowan cried. Arthur and Corbin grabbed Aline's arms, bracing her as they helped her sit up. She coughed and sputtered, her tiny body convulsing as she fought for breath.

"Omigod, is she on drugs?" Kelly stepped closer, her expression horrified.

"Get away from her!" I shoved Kelly away, terrified that she'd touch Aline and end up with some horrible hex and how the hell would I explain that?

I shoved harder than I intended. Kelly stumbled back and slammed into the kitchen cabinets. Rowan's jars rattled on the shelves. She clutched her side, glaring at me as tears rolled down her cheeks.

"I can't believe you did that," she whispered.

Tears sprung in my eyes. "Kelly, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean?—"

"Yes you did!" Kelly yelled through her own tears. "You've been pushing me away ever since I got here. You're piling lies on top of lies just to avoid telling me what's really going on. I knew you were selfish, but I never, ever thought you'd..." she hiccuped, her body dissolving into sobs.

I reached out to embrace her, but she shied away. "I swear, Kelly, I didn't mean to hurt you. She might be dangerous and I?—"

"Why, is she a witch? " Kelly sneered. She got to her feet, fumbling for a hold on the edge of the bench. "Like you, right, Maeve? You're a witch."

The room disappeared. The only things I was aware of was Kelly's cold glare and my heart pounding in my ears.

"I'm not a witch," I said, but the words were weak, full of resignation.

Kelly snorted. "Jeez. I didn't even really believe it, but if Maeve Crawford can't even muster up the strength to deny the existence of witches, then I guess I'm convinced."

"Moore." Someone behind me rasped.

Kelly whipped around. "What?"

"Moore," the woman who might've been my mother spoke, her voice like dirt being shovelled into a hole. "Her name is Maeve Moore."

"Maeve," Kelly said through gritted teeth. "Who is this person really , and why does she know your birth name?"

My shoulders sagged. At least giving her this one truth might distract her from the witch thing for a while. "We're not a hundred percent sure, but we think she might be my mother."

"No." Kelly slid down the cabinet and sank to the floor, hugging her arms to her knees. "This is not happening."

"Like I said, it's not confirmed yet, but… I gestured at the coughing woman. "There's a certain family resemblance. It's kind of a long story and I… I don't want you to hate me."

"Why would I hate you?"

"Don't you hate me already?"

Kelly laughed. "Only because you've been lying to me and sneaking around and cheating on Arthur and that's really gross and sinful, and I don't understand why you'd want to hurt someone you care about."

"I don't want to hurt anyone, and I'm not cheating on Arthur."

"You know I saw you with Flynn, and you're still denying it!" Her voice rose an octave. "It's disgusting, Maeve. Adultery is a sin. How can anyone trust you when you're not faithful?—"

Like a switch flicking in my brain, the mention of the word sin turned my distress into anger. "Just because your stupid religion doesn't allow for girls and guys to have platonic friendships, or for girls and girls and guys and guys to hook up, doesn't mean you get to lecture me on my relationships?—"

"My stupid religion is the only reason you have a fucking family in the first place!" Kelly screamed. "Do you think if Mum and Dad had been atheists like you, they'd have taken pity on some unholy daughter born in sin? And now you're trying to tell me your mother is some random druggie in your kitchen. Look at her, Maeve! She can't be a year or two older than you are. That's not your mother. You're lying again."

"Christians don't have a monopoly on kindness or love. I've learned more about morality in the last few weeks than I have in my entire life living in that backwards, judgemental hellhole of a town."

"You mean you learned about morality while you were cheating on Arthur?"

"Um, Kelly, it's fine," Arthur said, but I held up a hand to stop him.

"I'm dealing with my grief in the best way I can," I hissed. "You can ask the guys. I haven't hurt anyone."

"Except Uncle Bob." Kelly shot back.

"That was different," I flinched. "I did that for you. Because you were hurting in a hospital bed and I had to help you. It seems you're fine to take the help of a sinner when it gets you a plane ticket to England and a bank account full of money, but as soon as it shits on your puritanical sensibilities you get all holier-than-thou."

"This is so typical of you!" Kelly yelled. "Twisting everything around so I'm the one who looks like the bad guy. Nothing's changed for you – your life is still perfect. You have an inheritance and a hot guy and a whole future. You could have sold this castle and gone to MIT and lived your life just the way you always wanted it. Instead, you chose to shit all over Mum and Dad's memories. The sand isn't even cold on their grave and you've already thrown everything they taught you out the window."

"Get out," I growled.

Kelly's face froze. "Wait, Maeve, I didn't?—"

"No. We're done." I turned away. Behind me, Kelly let out a strangled sob. A moment later, I heard her feet running down the hall. Good. Let her go. Let her take her stupid glitter Barbie backpack and her seven deadly sins bullshit and fuck off to Germany, if that's what she wants to do.

The woman coughed, her eyes meeting mine. Once again, I was struck by how exactly she resembled my mother's image from the painting.

"She's hurting," The woman – I still couldn't bear to think of her as Aline, my mother, not yet – gasped out. "Don't judge her by the things she says in desperation."

"I don't take relationship advice from ghosts."

"You have to ask yourself what hurts more..." Her eyes rolled back again, and she collapsed against Corbin's chest. A moment later, she emitted a loud snore.

What hurts more? I rubbed my tear stained cheek. What does she mean by that?

"Take her to the library," Rowan said. "Light the fire and make her comfortable with lots of blankets. I'll make her some food for when she wakes up."

"She's really going to wake up?" The woman looked halfway to the grave. She's supposed to be all the way in the grave.

Rowan nodded. "She's fine, just exhausted. Being three-dimensional for the first time in twenty-one years is hard on the body. We'll take care of it, you should go talk to?—"

"Don't finish that sentence. Why the library? What about one of the guest rooms?"

"Kelly and Jane are using the last two rooms on our floor, so that only leaves the rooms on the tours, and they're filled with creepy wax figurines. I think she should be next to a fire, and I'm sure she'll like waking up in the library with all the books. After all, didn't it used to be hers?"

"She's not my mother, Rowan."

"If you say so, Princess." Blake winked, as he helped Arthur lift her off the counter. "Excuse us while we settle your not-mother back into her castle."

I followed the guys upstairs to the library. They settled the woman on the couch and piled her up with blankets and pillows. Corbin went behind his desk. "We should take turns to stay with her, so she's not alone when she wakes up. I'll take first shift—" he glanced at me, and gave a shy smile. "That is, if it seems like a good idea to you, Maeve?"

Oh Corbin. He still struggled to let go of his sense of responsibility for the coven. I was supposed to be admonishing him every time he issued commands and tried to take over.

But since the idea of being alone in a room with the woman who claimed to be my mother freaked me the hell out, this time he could have his overprotectiveness. "It's a good idea, and I'm fine if you go first. I'm tired as hell, anyway."

"I'd say we should sit down and figure out what to do next, but I don't think we'll know anything until we can talk to her again." Corbin's eyes met mine with a warmth that melted my heart. "Maeve, you need to talk to Kelly."

Forget that . My heart turned to ice again. I shook my head. "I'm going to bed."

"But don't you think?—"

"No." I glared at him. "And don't you talk to her, either. She's my responsibility. I don't have to tolerate being spoken to like that in my castle. Wake me up when it's my shift. And don't any of you—" I glared at the rest of the guys. "—even think about coming up to visit me. I am not in the mood."

I brushed my teeth in my bathroom (more furiously than my dentist would have recommended, but he hadn't just met his zombie mother and had a horrible fight with his sister, so he could go to hell), climbed the stairs to my tower, and collapsed into bed, worn out by the emotional trauma of the day.

As soon as I turned out the light, part of me wished I hadn't told the guys to stay away tonight. I could have done with Rowan's cuddles or Flynn's tickles or Corbin's soft whispers in my ear. I debated going down and climbing into bed with one of them, but I fell asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

My dreams gave me no respite from terror. The vision of burned and blackened earth and a maze of towering briar woke me several times. I lost count of the number of times I stumbled through that briar and found the six stakes pointing toward the sky, the charred remains of my beloved guys clinging to their forms. I struggled against the invisible barrier that prevented me reaching the sixth stake, but I couldn't get close enough to see the face of the wretched figure that hung there. This time there was a crowd of people in black cloaks crowded around, jeering and pointing and tossing sharp objects that slammed against my skin.

"Burn the witches," they chanted. "Burn the Devil's children."

The one in front lifted its hood, revealing a cascade of shimmering blonde hair. Kelly's accusing eyes stared back at me. "Burn the witches. Burn them all!"