Page 3 of Found in Obscurity

“Grandma,” he said, stunned when he met her eyes. She pursed her lips into a disapproving moue at his greeting. “How did you know I was coming today…now?”

She stared at him for a few long moments before scoffing the way only she knew how. The kind of scoff that made you re-examine that last five years of your existence in great detail, just to see if you had done something that would have offended her. And you probably had. Even if you couldn’t recall.

The sound of it brought the memories of his entire childhood like a tidal wave to the forefront of his mind. Days spent getting into trouble while avoiding her all-knowing stare. Nights spent sleeping outside with her as she tried to teach him the ways of nature under the moon’s loving gaze. Back when things were simple. When he still held wonder and awe at the possibilities of magic.

Before his innocence had crumbled to the cruelties of reality.

Life had shifted into years of defiance from him and relentless stubbornness from her, culminating in an argument that had driven him to finally pack up his things and leave.

She hadn’t changed a single bit since the last time he’d seen her.

“Don’t be daft, child,” she said, using the staff to make him walk forward. “I know everything. Now move, I don’t have all day.”

“I didn’t know you’d come and pick me up,” he said, marching to the beat of her drum in front of her, once again unable to stand up to her unless pushed right to the edge.

“You would have if you’d called,” she bit back. “But no. Mysterious city boy has to keep the entire town on their toes.”

“I wasn’t trying to—”

“Stars only know what you were trying to do. I doubt you know. My car is this way. Walk faster.”

He picked up speed, tucking his books under one arm and bowing his back as her staff dug into it, steering him toward the small parking lot right by the bus station’s main building.

He recognized her beat-up old mustard yellow car from across the lot. And the raven sitting on top of it. The same one that had found him at his apartment. Sjena. His grandmother’s familiar.

The car looked like only magic was holding it together. Knowing his grandmother, it probably was. The thing was older than he was, and he was uncomfortably pushing thirty.

“Still driving the old beater?” he asked as they approached her car, trying to ease the tension.

“Not all of us feel the need to replace things the moment we grow tired of them,” she said, voice clipped as she rattled the door to get it open.

She settled inside, slamming it shut directly in his face. He stumbled back a step or two, forcing himself not to take her words to heart, even if they were pointed jabs at the choices he’dmade. She disagreed with them, and he’d always known that. He told himself he had to live with it before shaking his head and walking back to the trunk.

He opened it, trying to put his things inside, but clearly he was taking too long for her liking, because she honked the squeaky horn, making him jump a foot into the air. He stuffed his bag and books inside and closed the trunk as fast as possible, walking back to the front of the car and folding himself inside just in time for her to peel out of the parking lot.

They didn’t talk, the silence between them strained by too many years. Too many words that couldn’t be taken back.

He turned his head away to stare at the passing sights.

It was all familiar to him. Even with the changes, he knew the narrow roads leading from the town’s center to his grandma’s cabin just outside its borders. He knew the dinky old houses lining the streets and the people that lived inside them.

He knew the dark, thick trees in their gardens, despite them being so much taller and denser than the last time he’d seen them. He recognized the unique scent of oak moss and the chill bite in the air as they drove toward the outskirts of the town. The small creeks filled with murky water were still the same as he’d remembered. He squashed down the weird nostalgia that threatened to take shape inside his chest.

“Gloves?” his grandmother asked with a curl to her lip that screamed displeasure.

He followed the quick glance she threw his way and wrung his fingers in his lap as he nodded. It wasn’t just the stain of a witch he was hiding. He could feel the tips of his nails pressing against the material of his gloves, sharp and pointed and making his nail beds ache.

“You haven’t changed a bit,” she said, taking a sharp left turn and heading up the winding driveway to the small, rickety cabin painted a muted brown. The windows were framed by darkerbrown shutters and lined with pot after pot of weird-looking roots and succulents.

“Neither has this place,” he said when she parked in front of the steps, trying to make his voice sound curious instead of accusing.

Because the house truly looked frozen in time. Like the past decade had never happened. Like he had stepped out after lunch for a stroll and came back home for dinner.

It was unnerving just how…unmoving things seemed to be there.

The trees looming around the house looked like shadow monsters protecting it from intruders, and tiny burlap bags hung off the branches, giving the entire place an eerie look most people wanted to avoid.

She stepped out of the car and slammed the door shut. He hopped out after her, grabbing his things and following her up the short flight of stairs to the front door.