Page 89 of Edge of Stars

It’s not Maximus’s shout on the wind this time. Or Kell’s sobbing cry.

“No! Not now. Not ever, Hecate.”

This time, I do turn. And blink. And gape. My wide eyes are filled with a sight more unbelievable than a trip under the sea to a sea king’s secret villa. Or a visit to the center of hell. Or an escape from it.

The vision is…my mother.

Who’s not just broken free from her white fire bands. Now, the remnants of those ropes are bolstering her.

As in holding her up, a full four to five feet above the rocky ground. But more than that. The glowing ashes fly and float and sparkle along with her, flowing all the way through the red outlines of her fully healed form. Though, like Nancy, the remains of her wedding outfit are still dirty tatters around her body, every inch of skin is bruise-free and every broken limb is fully functional.

“What…the hell…”

I’d almost elbow my sister with congratulations for once again summing up a situation with brilliant brevity, but what even is the situation? What has our mother done to herself? Who has she become? Or, more brutally, has this always been her truth? Something she never felt she could share with us? Why?

“Get out of the way, girls,” she orders, and I’m weirdly comforted when Kell stays as frozen as me.

Finally, we stammer in tandem, “But—”

“I said get out of the way.”

“No, Kara!” Hecate shrieks.

I grab Kell by the elbow, hauling her back as Veronica takes our place in the witch queen’s direct strike field. Once she zooms into place, hovering like a she-hawk about to dive in at a rat, the crimson forcefield around her begins to pulse with audible energy and angrier heat.

“No more, Hecate. We’ve all had enough!”

I can’t rip my stare away from the witch queen’s face. I have damn good reason. Her features start clenching and twisting.

She’s…afraid.

Of…our mother.

Veronica freaking Valari has the goddess of sorcery quaking in her shiny green boots.

What. The. Hell?

But my careening mind has no conceivable answer for it. Not even one vague theory.

I peer around, wondering if there’s anything I can discern from Maximus or Jesse. They look just as helpless for suggestions and equally petrified in place.

Crunches on the rocks have me wheeling to look the other way. But the footsteps belong to Zeus and Poseidon, now arriving to the scene. I can welcome their presence but little else. Their auras are off-limits to me. Then again, their glowers aren’t—and they’re speaking volumes.

Things like oh shit.

And this isn’t going to end well.

I shove it all away when real words scythe the air again. My mother’s scathing snarl.

“That’s it,” she spits with vehemence I don’t even recognize. She’s Veronica but not. Our unrelenting, uncompromising family monarch, only hopped up on demonic drive that’s almost unreal. Even Hades is stepping back, inch by sneaky inch, until he starts blending in with the shadows. “You don’t get to do this, Hecate. You’re done, bitch.”

Kell’s stunned stare is already waiting for mine.

Hecate’s wielding the grimoire.

Bracing it like a soldier gripping a grenade launcher. With a grim sneer to match.

“Then you don’t get to do this either.”