Chapter 73 Legacies
Grace held Molly until the worst of it passed.
She didn't try to fill the quiet with words, didn't pat her back in that performative way people sometimes did when they were more uncomfortable with someone else's crying than the someone else was.
She just stayed, kept her arms where they were, and let Molly take the time she needed.
Outside the bedroom window, the morning was going grey and soft, and the house held its quiet around them.
When Molly finally pulled back, she wiped her face with both palms and let out a breath that was full of exhaustion and leftover grief. She sat down on the edge of the bed and looked at the floor for a moment, and Grace sat beside her and waited.
"My mum," Molly started, and then stopped, as though the sentence needed a better entry point. She tried again. "My mum just told me something in the kitchen." She said it with the flatness of someone still assembling their relationship with the information. "Something big. About our family."
Grace watched her face.
"She's a witch," Molly said. "An actual witch. She turned the kitchen lights on and off with her hand, Ra-ra, like it was nothing, like it was just… like it was just something she does."
Grace raised a brow, “Okay," she said carefully. She was keeping her voice even and her expression neutral, which took some effort.
"And apparently," Molly continued, "so am I." She looked at Grace with an expression that was still working through the layers of what that meant. "She said it passes through the female line. And there's some spell she put on me, said my dad asked her to, apparently that kept it suppressed. So I wouldn't know. So I could have a normal life."
"How long has the spell been in place?" Grace asked.
"Since I was born," Molly said. "She said it lifts when I'm a certain age." She looked at her hands, turning them over once in her lap with a slightly bewildered expression. "She said my dad wanted me to have an ordinary life for as long as possible. He's away, working abroad, but this was something they decided together when I was born apparently. A joint decision that nobody thought to consult me about."
“Well, another thing we’ve got in common, being bound by spells…” Grace said trying to make a joke causing Molly to give a short laugh.
"Your dad knew?"
"He knew. He's human, Daniel was human, it skips the males entirely. But he knew what Mum was and he knew what I might be and he wanted—" She stopped and pressed her lips together briefly. "He wanted me to be normal. Which is a lovely thought and I'm sure it came from a good place but I'm also furious about it, to be clear."
"You're allowed to be furious about it," Grace said.
"I know I am. I just…” Molly looked at the window, at the grey morning outside it. "…It's a lot to find out your entire understanding of what your family is has been quietly incorrect for your whole life."
Grace was quiet for a moment. Then she said, "Yes. I know what that's like."
Molly looked at her.
"The difference," Grace continued, "is that your mum is here and she's telling you. She didn't have to tell you right now, or in this way, but she did. That's something." She paused, finding the honest version of what she wanted to say rather than the easy one. "And I know it doesn't fix the years of not knowing. It doesn't undo the feeling of being kept outside of something that was yours to know. I'm not saying it does." She held Molly's gaze. "But she told you. And she sounds like she wants to explain it properly."
Molly was quiet, looking at the floor before saying, “Another thing is, she—”
"She wants my help finding Maddox," Grace finished for her.
The room shifted slightly at the name and Molly’s gaze snapped to hers, “How’d you know that?”
“I had a feeling your mom wouldn’t just let you know about your witchy bloodline all of a sudden,” Grace said with a small smile.
Molly's posture changed in a way that was subtle enough that most people wouldn't have caught it, but Grace was sitting close enough to feel it.
"She has a way to do it apparently," Molly said. Her voice was measured, but there was something underneath it that Grace couldn't quite place. "With magic."
"Then I want to hear it," Grace said.
Molly looked at her with an expression that went through several things quickly. Her expression shifted from consideration to conflict then resignation. She looked at Grace the way someone looked at a person they were choosing not to say something to, and Grace noted it and filed it away yet didn't press, because Molly had just cried for ten minutes and was processing the information that had been withheld from her for her entire life, obviously there was a reasonable amount of things she might not be ready to say out loud yet.
"She wants to use your connection to him," Molly said finally. "The bond. She thinks it can create something she can track."
Grace nodded slowly.
“You think we should do it?”
Grace looked at her for a long moment, "I also want to find him."
"Okay," Molly said. "Let's get ready and go down."
It took Molly a few extra minutes to get herself fully assembled as she tried to settle her expression into something functional. Together, she and Grace went downstairs in the mid-morning quiet of the house, their footsteps soft on the carpeted stairs.
Mrs. Marsh was in the living room. She had the television on at low volume and a glass of wine in her hand that she was not especially drinking so much as holding, and she looked up at them with a somber expression.
She stood up quickly when she saw Molly's face. The wine glass went down on the coffee table and she stepped forward with her hands moving instinctively in the direction of her daughter.
"Molly," she said. "I'm sorry. I need you to know how sorry I am. I know there's no version of that conversation that makes it easy to hear and I should have—"
"Mum." Molly stopped her with a word, it wasn’t harsh but it had the firmness of someone who needed the apology to pause so the rest of the day could happen. "I know. We'll talk about it properly. I need you to just—" She exhaled. "I need you to give me some time with it."
Her mother nodded. Her hands found each other instead and clasped together.
Then she looked at Grace.
Grace looked back at her steadily. She had spent most of the time coming down the stairs deciding what she was going to say, and she'd arrived at the version that was both true and most useful.
"Molly told me what you shared with her," she said. "About what you are. What she is." She kept her voice even and direct. "And she told me you have a way to find Maddox."
Mrs Marsh held her gaze. "I do. If you're willing."
"What does it involve?"
"A locating spell." She said it simply, without beating around the bush. She started moving towards the bookshelf in the living room, “It works through having anything belonging to the missing party. It could be a trinket, clothes, hair, or a connection.” She turned as she said the last part to look at Grace.
“The connection could be a tether between two people, it creates a traceable thread. I can follow it to a location, but I need to work through the person who holds the other connection or mark." She paused. "That's you."
Grace nodded. "He's my mate," she said plainly.
Something moved through Mrs Marsh's expression at that, it wasn’t surprise exactly, more like confirmation of what she’d suspected. She nodded once.
"Then I can do it," she said. "Do you consent? It requires a small—" She stopped, reconsidered the framing. "There's a minor physical component. A small amount of blood."
Grace looked at her steadily. "Yes," she said. "I consent."
Mrs Marsh turned back to the bookshelf and with the efficiency of someone who knew exactly what they were looking for, she returned with a map and set it on the coffee table. Then she went to the kitchen briefly and came back with a small knife.
She looked at Grace.
Grace held out her right hand, palm up