Daughter of Chaos

Chapter Five

When I headed to bed after loading the dishwasher, Mom followed me into my room and closed the door.

"Lena." She choked on my nickname, tears threatening to well up in her eyes. I looked at the floor and waited, and in a minute she continued. "Persephone is, well, she is the daughter of my patron, Demeter." She paused, sorting things out in her mind before speaking. "Maybe," she paused, "her presence might mean that Red magic isn't as different as I thought. Maybe the things I've heard—" She broke off with a nervous glance at me.

"Demeter is the goddess of the harvest, right?" I interjected. Mom nodded, looking relieved to have the conversation back in familiar territory. "And she lost her daughter to the lord of the Underworld, right?"

"Hades. He broke through the earth and took the girl, kept her in his kingdom against her will and broke her spirit." Mom recited the words like a well-learned lesson, but her eyes looked uncertain. The goddess herself had seemed to allude to a different version of the tale.

"And then she ate the pomegranate seeds and was forced to return to the Underworld."

Thoughtfully, Mom nodded. "But from what she said, it sounds more like the seeds caused some kind of balance, not entrapment."

Our eyes turned to the three pomegranate seeds I had set on my dresser.

"Not yet," I whispered. "She said to eat them if I ever felt like I'd made a bad choice, but right now I still don't understand the choice I've made. I need to know more."

Mom looked into my eyes and I felt her strength filling me. "I thought blood magic was just about death and chaos. But now I think there is more to it, and I know that if Demeter's daughter is involved, I must be involved, too. I will try—" Her voice cracked. "I will try not to be afraid anymore of what I think you have become."

Her words startled me. I had realized my parents were upset, but I hadn't thought they were afraid. What force could make a mother fear her own daughter? And twice now I'd heard that word: blood. Persephone and Mom had both called Red magic blood magic. What have I gotten myself into? I sank down onto my bed and stared at Mom in confusion.

People had always said I looked like my mom, but I didn't see it. She was beautiful, with her long hair flowing down to her shoulders. She'd never colored her hair, yet women were constantly asking her what product she used; no one believed that rich reddish-brown color could be natural. But if Mom's patron was indirectly involved in Red magic, maybe I was more like her than I thought.

As if echoing my thoughts, she said, "Persephone would make a nice patron. Maybe you should consider—"

"I don't want to take a patron yet. I don't even understand Red magic; how am I supposed to know who the Red gods are?"

Mom pursed her lips. "Lena, it would be good to have help, and a patron can provide you with more help than your father or I can."

I turned over, pressing my face to my pillow. "I don't even know if I want a patron."

"You're young. You don't understand how wonderful it is to work directly with a god."

I looked up at her curiously. Mom had never talked about her relationship with Demeter that much, and I had never asked. "When did you swear to Demeter?"

Her eyes got misty as she remembered. "When I was fifteen." She noticed my startled expression and laughed self-consciously. "We did things differently back then; the patron and the path sort of came together."