An image of her being dragged through a hole in the floor by a tar-covered demon flickers before my eyes.
I take her hands again and look her in the eye. “Do you remember that monster that attacked you back home?”
Deep wrinkles transform her smooth forehead into a landscape of confusion. “What are you talking about?”
“It looked like a giant spider. At first, you didn’t see it. It created a hole in our living room floor and took you.”
Her fingers almost crush mine. “You’re describing a nightmare I had. How do you know what I dreamt?”
Mona walks around the table and places a hand on Mom’s shoulder. “I’m afraid that was real, Susan. I failed to protect you.”
Mom blinks several times. Her eyes dart from me to Mona and back. “Protect me? What on earth are you talking about? What is going on here?” Her voice rises with every word.
Mona and I exchange a look before taking a deep breath. Simultaneously, we spit out the truth.
“Magic is real.”
“So are monsters,” I add.
Taylar leans over the table across from Mom. “And ghosts.”
Mom’s gaze travels from Taylar to the others around the table. She takes in Jeep, D’Maeo and Maël sitting at the other end, and then Vicky, who is smiling broadly from the seat next to her. Then her head turns back to me and Mona. “I’m still dreaming.”
Mona walks back to the kitchen counter to pour the tea while I squeeze Mom’s hands harder.
She lets out a startled cry. “Ouch, that hurts, Dante!”
I pull her closer to me. “You’re not dreaming, Mom. I know it’s hard to believe, it was for me too, but magic exists. It flows through my veins.”
Mona puts a steaming cup in front of Mom. “Just show her, Dante. And show her your father’s notebook.”
At the mention of Dad, Mom flinches a little. She doesn’t want to know anything about him, I know that. It’s not surprising either, considering what it looked like when he left. But after reading parts of Dad’s notebook, I know that he left to protect us. He was caught up in the same battle that I am now in. He fought the Devil before me.
Mom pulls her hands from my grip and sips from her tea. “You can do a trick? Show me.”
It’s hard not to get impatient, but I understand her unwillingness to believe in magic. It’s a stretch, even for people who are magical themselves. Eventually, I felt magic flowing through me, so I had no choice but to believe. For Mom, it’s different. She’s non-magical.
“Not a trick, Mom. This is all real,” I tell her.
It takes me only a second to conjure a lightning bolt in my hand.
“That’s pretty,” Mom simply says, and I shoot Mona an exasperated look.
“Charlie?” I plead, “can you please show her what you can do?”
My best friend has munched through half of the pack of cookies already. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, forms a couple of greasy, brown balls in his hand and builds a wall with them in the middle of the table.
Mom claps enthusiastically, and I slap my forehead.
“Jeep?” I say.
He nods and starts moving his hands around like the choir director of a very incoherent musical composition.
After about half a minute, there’s a knock at the back door that’s still half open. A skeleton peeks around the door. It waves at us before trotting inside, its bones clicking and clacking slightly with every step.
The tattooed ghost makes it walk around the table and stop in front of Mom. It performs a strange dance and takes a bow.
Mom claps again. “I love it!” she exclaims. “It’s better than the circus!”
“It’s not a trick, Mom,” I repeat. “Try to find a string.”
She shakes her head. “Strings are old school. So much is possible these days, and it all looks so real!”
I place my elbows on the table and bury my head in my hands. “I give up.”
The legs of a chair scrape the floor. “Let me try,” Vicky says.
D’Maeo speaks up before she can hypnotize Mom. “No, it’s no use. We should show her a memory.”
“How is that going to work?” Taylar asks. “She’ll just think it’s a trick again.”
The gray-haired ghost shakes his head. “Not if it’s a memory of hers too.”
Taylar’s eyes grow wide. His mouth forms a perfect ‘O’. “You want to show her the moment John left?”
“It might be the only way.” D’Maeo turns his gaze on me. “You can join your mother, if you want to.”
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Tamara Geraeds was born in 1981, in a small village in the south of The Netherlands.
When she was 6 years old, she wrote her first poem, which basically translates as:
A hug for you and a hug for me
and that’s how life should be
She started writing books at the age of 15 and her first book was published in 2012. After 6 books in Dutch she decided to write a young adult fantasy series in English: Cards of Death.
Tamara’s bibliography consists of books for children, young adults and adults, and can be placed under fantasy and thrillers.
Besides writing she runs her own business, in which she teaches English, Dutch and writing, (re)writes texts and edits books.
She’s been playing badminton for over 20 years and met the love of her life Frans on the court. She loves going out for dinner, watching movies, and of course reading, writing and hugging her husband. She’s crazy about sushi and Indian curries, and her favorite color is pink.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Lots of thanks to my valuable beta readers William Case and Jolena Foster.
Thanks to you, the reader, for reading the figments of my imagination.
Thanks to everyone who took (or is going to take) the time to leave a review and/or recommend my book(s) to other readers. If I could hug you, I would.
Cards of Death Box Set Page 66
