Page 9 of Found in Obscurity

“Last I checked, you couldn’t teleport through metal, Lorin,” his grandmother said from the driver’s seat, and he snapped his head around to look at her.

She had her lips pinched tight and her car keys already in hand, ready to go. She was pushing, as she usually did, but there was something around her eyes that made Lorin realize she did understand. At least somewhat.

The lines around her eyes softened slightly, and she stopped fidgeting with the keys in her fingers and took a deep breath before turning toward him. She looked him in the eye, holding his gaze and never blinking, as if making him see he couldn’t really escape talking to her.

“I’m doing my best,” he said, making her snort despite the understanding she’d allowed him to see just seconds ago.

“I refuse to believe I raised someone whose best is sitting in a car, frozen in fear.” She shook her head.

“Yeah, well, not everything you taught me stuck, Grandma,” he told her, trying to make his voice harder but failing miserably. It was just as wobbly as he was feeling all over.

“Some things did, though. That annoying stubbornness is all me, much to both my joy and disappointment.”

He chuckled at that, deciding to take it as a compliment rather than an insult. Knowing her, she probably meant it to be both.

“What if it’s there?” he asked softly, turning his head to look back toward the clearing.

She followed his gaze, silent for what felt like forever before speaking again.

“Then it’s there, and there’s nothing that will change that.”

“You said it won’t be,” he told her.

“Contrary to popular belief, I don’t actually know everything.”

“So we’re back to me having zero choice in the matter?” he asked, getting more agitated.

“That was the agreement, Lorin,” she said plainly, not rising to the bait. “You do this for me, and I do the unimaginable for you. You agreed to it. I didn’t force your hand.”

He threw his head against the backrest and closed his eyes. He knew he was being petulant. Acting like the teenager he hadn’t been in years. But nothing inside him could come to terms with this.

“I don’t know if I can do this.” He shook his head and kept his eyes closed.

“Even if you don’t come out, the moment the ceremony starts, the magic will still find you,” she said. “You’re close enough that if it’s going to happen, it’ll happen either way.”

“Great.”

“I’d prefer if you didn’t let me go out there on my own, having to explain to those harpies why you’re sulking in the car.”

“I’m not sulking,” he said, just to be contrary.

“No, you’re an absolute joy at the moment.” She snorted and opened her door. “Now come on. The sooner everyone is there, the sooner it’ll be over.”

She waltzed out, Sjena settling onto her shoulder, her billowy dress dancing around her legs as if brought to life by a spell. It was her special occasion dress, Lorin could tell right away. The lace was richer, the black wasn’t faded. There was just…more of it than what she usually had on. She had made an effort for the ceremony, and while he’d tried dressing up too, out of respect, it still didn’t quite reach the level she was at.

She snapped him back to reality by snatching her staff from the back seat and slamming the creaky door at him without a second glance. He was to follow. He knew that much.

He cast one more look toward the clearing, wondering if there was even a sliver of a chance of him just hanging on the outskirts of the whole thing and not being seen or talked to by anyone until it was over. But just as the thought crossed his mind, his grandma reached the fenced space in the clearing and virtually every single person turned to look at her, raising their hands in greeting, smiling at her, making space for her to pass.

Lorin was rudely reminded of the fact that, while she was just Grandma to him, she was an elder to most of the others. Respected. Looked up to. Listened to.

He watched her pause next to every person who stopped her, her face folded into a casual look of interest even if her feet were turned away from the person she was talking to. Polite, always. But detached.

She finished a conversation and turned back to the car, giving him a look he knew meant he was to stop dawdling and join her. Her patience was dwindling and his time was up.

He took a deep breath and gripped the door handle, yanking it open before he could talk himself out of it once again.

His gloved hand slipped a little, the handle flying out of his fingers and banging back against the worn-out plastic. It felt like the loudest thing he had ever heard. Like it had drawn the attention of every single human in the vicinity.