On the Edge (The Edge #1)(8)
Author: Ilona Andrews

ROSE made the final turn and paused at the edge of the lawn. Grandma ElEonore sat on the porch, sipping hot tea from a teacup. Some time ago Grandma had decided she was old enough to cultivate a hedge witch look. Her gray hair was teased into a semblance of a crazy matted mess randomly decorated with feathers, twigs, and charms. Her clothes would’ve given any deconstruction-oriented designer a run for his money: they were artfully ripped and layered, until she resembled a half-plucked chicken with bits and tatters of fabric fluttering about her as she moved.

The authenticity of her costume was slightly ruined by the fact that both her rags and her hair were very clean and smelled faintly of lavender, and by a decidedly unwitchy teacup with a fluffy gray kitten on it.

"Were the boys any trouble?" Rose asked, coming to sit next to her.

Grandma rolled her eyes. "Please. I’m a hundred and seven years old. I think I can handle two hooligans."

The magic kept most Edge families alive and well long past their Broken peers, and Grandma didn’t look a day older than fifty-five. It wasn’t her age that was the problem, Rose reflected. It was that the moment the boys made their puppy eyes at her, all the rules and discipline flew out the window.

Behind Grandma the boys chased each other on the grass: Jack, nimble and lightning quick, and Georgie, a pale golden-haired shadow. Paler than usual today. One of them was impersonating InuYasha, the half-demon boy from the comic book; the other was probably Lord Sesshomaru, InuYasha’s older and stronger demon half-brother. But which was which, she couldn’t tell from here.

Rose did not regret buying the comics. The boys had latched onto them, and the precious volumes now occupied the treasured spot of honor on the top shelf in their bedroom.

Georgie ran out of breath and sat on the grass, slumping forward. Rose caught a sigh. He looked about to be sick.

Grandma pursed her lips. "What was it this time?"

"A baby bird." He’d raised it this morning, before she dropped them off at the school bus stop.

Georgie coughed and bent over on the grass. Jack stopped in midstride. He looked at Georgie for a long moment, his face blank and lost, then trotted over and sat next to him.

"If George keeps this up, it will kill him." Grandma shook her head.

Rose sighed. When Georgie resurrected something, he sacrificed a bit of his vitality to give it life. The stronger his power grew, the weaker his body became, as if his mind was the flame of a candle that burned too bright, destroying the wax too fast. They tried explaining. They tried talking. They tried threats and punishments and pleading, but nothing helped. Georgie breathed life into things that made him sad with their passing and simply didn’t know how to let them go.

"What a pair." Grandma sighed. "A cat with a death wish and his brother who’s trying to keep half of the Wood alive." Her voice broke a bit. "How’s Cletus?" she said, making an obvious effort to sound nonchalant and failing.

"Same," Rose said.

A shadow clouded Grandma’s eyes. She frowned and poured Rose a cup of tea. "The boys told me about this William. What does he do?"

Traitors. "He’s a floorer."

"He sells flowers?" Grandma’s eyebrows crept up.

"No. You know how roofers work on roofs? Well, he works on floors."

"Are you sure he isn’t a child molester? Because that’s what they do, they sidle up to the woman in the family, woo her, and then next thing you know they’ve got their di – "

Rose gave her an indignant stare. "He isn’t a child molester."

"How do you know?"

Rose spread her arms helplessly. "He has honest eyes?"

"Is he handsome?"

Rose frowned. "He’s a fine figure of a man. Dark hair, dark eyes. Handsome, I suppose."

"If he looks that good, why didn’t you let him court you?"

"It didn’t feel right," she said shortly.

Grandma looked at her, her blue eyes vivid on her wrinkled tan face, like two violets on a freshly plowed field. "I see."

"I saw a wold today," Rose said to change the subject.

Grandma raised her eyebrows. "Oh? How big?"

Rose lifted her hand to show about four feet.

"My. He was a big one." A flicker of worry mudded the clear blue of Grandma’s eyes.

Rose nodded. "It chased Kenny Jo up a tree."

"Kenny Jo deserves it. Did you kill it?"

They shared a small private smile. A couple of weeks after Rose had flashed white, Grandma had made a small wold for her to kill. Practice, she had said. It was more than that –  it was a test. Grandma wanted to see how hot she could flash. Rose had blown the wold to pieces in the first ten seconds. Grandma didn’t speak for a full half a day after that. Grandpa had called it a record of some sort and predicted Apocalypse.

Rose nodded. "Who could make a wold?"

Grandma set her cup down with a sigh. "That’s a powerful curse. I can. Lee Stearns. Jeremiah Lovedahl. Adele Moore. Emily Paw. Her aunt, Elsie, could, too, but the poor woman lost her wits, what, two decades ago?"

"I heard she has tea parties." Rose drank her tea.

Grandma nodded. "I’ve seen her do it. She brings teddy bears to the picnic table and pours them invisible tea out of a plastic tea set. Sometimes the bears even drink it. There was some real power there, but it’s all gone to waste now."

Rose opened her mouth to tell her about a man who liked to jump on moving trucks and stopped. It was just an isolated incident. Nothing would come of it. Why worry her?

"Whoever has done it, I’ll find out. And I’m sure Jeremiah and Adele will want to give them a piece of their mind." Grandma rose. "Well, I’d better be going. I’ll make the trip to Adele’s tomorrow and see what she knows. The hooligans finished their homework. Also, Georgie has a note from his teacher, something about stone books."

"Stone books?" Rose frowned.

"Yes. I think he needs one made of marble."

"Marble composition book," Rose guessed.

"Yes, that’s the one."

Grandma headed for the door and stopped, framed in the doorway. "Maybe you should give this boy a chance. Life doesn’t have to end after the Graduation Fair, you know. It goes on."

She left. Rose sighed and poured herself more tea.

Give the boy a chance.

Rose mulled it over. Maybe she should have given William a chance. Most people in her position might have. She hadn’t dated in years.

And that was exactly the problem. She hadn’t dated in years, and her judgment wasn’t sound. A part of her wanted to be pretty and carefree. In her rare moments of desperation, she wanted a man to look at her like she meant the world to him, and failing that, she would settle for someone who thought she was beautiful and told her so. William would probably fit that bill. Part of her pointed out that something was better than nothing. But if she ended up with the wrong something, she’d regret it for the rest of her life. Once bitten, twice shy. Living in your dreams meant bitter disappointment when you woke up. She’d learned that lesson well.