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Sue turned to the north. Only bad news ever came from the north.
Warlock was an old word. Normal people cast it around without understanding the ancient slur, thinking it meant male witch, when it meant traitor. It was reserved for practitioners gone bad, those who betrayed magic’s first tenet: “do no harm.” And the warlock he was hunting had done plenty of harm. Every lead had led to a maimed magical creature, to bone bound in glass and bog iron. Most of the creatures still lived, hobbled, their agony constant. The warlock had done more than enough to earn the moniker.
“Missed you too,” Adam said. He wasn’t certain he meant it, and yet he wasn’t angry with her, at least not like he was with Bobby. Thinking of his mother just made him sad, like they should love each other but didn’t. Too much difference lay between them.
Bobby had never gotten it through his head that wanting Adam to be normal wasn’t the same as wanting what was best for Adam.
Adam had never thought about it before. He’d never doubted that Bobby deserved his anger. He couldn’t really say why he didn’t the feel the same way about his mom. But it was Bobby who’d held him during Dad’s rages, Bobby who’d sworn to keep Adam safe. Mom had just stood by during the beatings. She’d cowered, and maybe that had been her Liberty House, the time that had broken her, left her incapable of mothering him at all.
“That’s poor, not white trash. Your mom worked hard. Your brother works hard. You’re only white trash if you’re lazy. And I know that’s not you.”
“You can manipulate minds?” Adam asked. “There are spells for it, though I hesitate to use them. They dip into the black.”
