The Fallen One (Sons of the Dark Mother, Book One)

CHAPTER ELEVEN

  JES

  Jes watched her grandmother cross the room to set down the tray of lemonade. She’d wanted to leave. The information she’d already learned churned inside of her, spinning like a blender, mixing everything together—until she couldn’t tell the difference between one thing and another—until nothing at all made sense.

  She didn’t know what else her grandmother had in store for her, but she knew she wouldn’t like it. She already felt frustrated enough, and she didn’t want to hear anymore.

  But Jes knew her grandmother wasn’t done with her yet, and she wasn’t about to leave until she’d learned everything.

  She was right. Her grandmother did have yet another shock in store for her.

  Her grandmother took her time pouring Jes a glass of lemonade. She seemed to contemplate what she wanted to say. She sat in the comfortable chair across from Jes, her gaze intent.

  “What is it, Nanna?” Jes asked, becoming more and more alarmed.

  “Granddaughter,” her grandmother shook her head slightly, “I know you’ve received more than your share of surprises these past few years. But I need to ask you something….” She folded her hands in front of her. Her skin unwrinkled, her hair still a glossy brown, she sat as one of the regal Jaguar People. She’d likely live to old age, even so, as a beautiful woman, Jes thought.

  Her lack of aging likely caused Jes to persist in calling her Nanna, though the Jaguar People didn’t usually do so. She did so to remind herself, she actually was her grandmother. Jes spent too many years around the humans—not to get more than a little confused by her grandparents’ lack of aging.

  “Jes,” her grandmother said, again. “I need to ask you about your powers…?”

  Jes frowned at her. “I don’t understand, Nanna. You were at my Coming of Age Ceremony when I took on my power….” She stopped because her grandmother shook her head.

  “I’m not talking about your Jaguar form, child. I’m talking about you—as one of the Jaguar Witches.”

  Jes stared at her. “How did you know about that?”

  Her grandmother laughed. “Only a witch can beget a witch,” she said to Jes, as if that explained it all. “How do you think I know?”

  Jes stared at her grandmother in shock. There’s no end to the surprises today, she thought. But she didn’t want to think about this right now. In fact, she didn’t want to think of it at all. She tended to push away such unpleasant thoughts. “Why do you bring this up, Nanna?”

  Her grandmother shook her head at Jes’s obvious attempt to deflect her question. “What have you noticed, child?” she asked.

  She didn’t want to think about it, damn it. Why didn’t her grandmother pick up the hint and leave it alone? She’d always gone to great lengths to avoid such thoughts. They were the ones she left buried deep within her conscious. She didn’t want to answer her grandmother’s question—but neither did she wish to disrespect her.

  She shook her head, placing the fingers of her right hand to her temple. Her head hurt. “I don’t know,” she said, trying for a nonchalant tone to her voice. “I guess, around the age sixteen,” she said, “I noticed the first thing.”

  Her grandmother wasn’t making it easy for her. “What thing was that, dear?”

  “I don’t remember much,” Jes said, trying to rein in her irritation. “I remember getting angry with some kids—and the next thing I knew—everything went flying. The other kids didn’t know what to make of it, any more than me. We weren’t outside—and no one opened the door. Nobody knew what happened—so they didn’t connect it to me. And since they didn’t connect it to me—or anyone else—they had no answer for what happened.” She rambled now. But her head hurt—and it was fast getting worse. “They didn’t want to think about something they couldn’t explain. It scared them. So, it became one of those things no one talks about.”

  “Okay, so after that day, what happened next? How old were you, then?”

  Jes stared hard at her grandmother. “Why are you doing this to me?” she asked, again.

  Her grandmother gave her a level look—but her tone remained gentle. “Humor me, child.”

  Jes gave a great sigh of exasperation. “I don’t know—I guess about six or nine months later. That time, I blew out the light bulbs. I was home—and I’d gotten irritated with the computer. I was glad I didn’t blow it up.”

  “And how do you keep from blowing out light bulbs—or computers—now? Or keeping things from—going flying?”

  Jes folded her arms over her middle in a defensive gesture. “I neutralize the forward thrust of my emotions.”

  “Hmmm. So, this must have happened a few more times?”

  Jes nodded. “Frequently, after that, until I learned to control them,” she finished quietly. “I always tried to hide it from you.”

  Her grandmother gave her that look that grandmothers loved to give, but didn’t say anything. “And what other things of this nature have happened? And why didn’t you come to me?”

  “I didn’t come to you—because I didn’t want to talk about it. Like, I don’t want to talk about it, now,” Jes said, with more than a little rancor and immediately apologized for her rude tone.

  Her grandmother waved it away. “I don’t mean to upset you, child. Your answers are important to me—for reasons I don’t want to get into, at the moment.”

  Jes’s gaze narrowed on her. After a long moment when it became apparent that her grandmother wouldn’t leave it alone, she said, I—umm—can draw things to me—in the same way I can push them away. And I can—cause them to kind of—blow up….” She winced. “Not bad. Like a burst of forced air.”

  If this surprised her grandmother, she didn’t show it. “I see. And you didn’t think this important to talk about, either?” She waved away the retort Jes would have given. “Okay, Jes. We’ll let it go, for now. But you’re going to have to set your mind on talking about it again—and soon.”

  “Yes, Nanna,” Jes said. But not too soon, she thought with some rebellion. And with that she hugged her grandmother, and left.