The Degenerate (Mythics Book One)

8

 I didn't let myself think of it any longer. I stepped onto the foothold and peeked over the wall. The sight of my old home, a large house with gray, micah-flecked walls and a massive rooftop balcony nestled among three turrets, sent a flood of fuzzy memories roaring through me. I could remember barbequing on the roof with my mother and laughing as she flipped burgers. I could see myself practicing my bicycle skills on the cement porch. I was even playing tag on the grassy lawn with some of the neighbor kids. I stared, drank it all in, feeling as though a tether were pulling me forward, closer and closer to the home I had left behind years ago.

I straddled the wall, then swung both legs over and landed on the other side with both feet firmly planted in the grass. Theo would be following me soon, I knew. I began walking forward, taking note of the little black security cameras mounted on the porch. The fact that she might know I was here already had my stomach doing flips. My steps were brisk and soon I was running, dashing to the back door before I could think things through. I didn't want doubts.

There was a spare key hidden under a doormat that said wipe your feet in curly, slanted letters. I put the key in the lock, taking a few tries because my hands were trembling so badly. Rising anxiety swelled in my chest, blocking the air in my throat. I finally got the key to turn and I pushed open the door.

She was sitting at the marble kitchen island, typing away on her sleek silver laptop. Her blonde hair was exactly the same, trimmed into a stately bob and run through with lowlights. Not a strand was gray or out of place. Pale skin was unlined and powdered into perfection, making her painted red lips all the more striking. A pair of vintage oval glasses were balanced on the bridge of her nose, hiding her eyes behind a glare from my angle. She wore a flowing white blouse with lace-trimmed sleeves and a slim black skirt that reached her knees.

I opened and closed my mouth, throat closing in, thinking that surely she must have heard the back door open.

Her head craned toward me, eyebrows lifting in surprise, and the rush of panic in my veins transformed into a thunderous roar.

Suddenly she was on her feet. "Is that you?" she asked in barely a whisper. Her voice was wavering and uncertain in a way that I had never heard from her before.

My voice had abandoned ship about five minutes ago. I tried to swallow my pain.

"Oh," she gasped, pressing a finely manicured hand to her mouth. "My baby girl."

I felt my eyes fill with hot tears. I held them back just barely, knowing that if a single one fell it would ruin the entire scene and scorch my cheek. "Mom?" I choked out.

I was viewing things in a frame-by-frame sort of slow motion. I hadn't even seen her move, but she was right in front of me, holding me, brushing hair behind my ears. My facade was cracking under the weight of her actions, sending waves of warmth running through my core. I felt unraveled and weak, and yet something within me panged with joy at her touch and words, soothing any thoughts from my mind.

My last growth-spurt had left us eye-to-eye. She grasped my cheeks and stared at me. "Where have you been, Ivory?" she asked softly.

I blinked, trying to disperse the collected tears and erase the blur in my vision. Her words struck a flat note within me, seeming hollow. Why would she ask such a thing? She knew why I had left, what she had done to make me leave. Why would she care where I had been? Unless...

Feeling abruptly cold, I took a step back from her.

"Come in, come in," she told me with a smile. "Lucky you, I just started a fresh batch of cookies. My personal guilty pleasure. At least now it won't be so much guilt with you here to share them with me."