The Source (Witching Savannah, Book 2) - Plot & Excerpts
Someone had removed my clothes and slipped me into a seafoam-colored silk nightgown. The kind you get for a holiday present and never end up wearing. I sat down on the foot of the bed, trying to pull together the pieces of yesterday, the same as if I were trying to rebuild the shards of glass into the dome that had crushed my mother. Or had maybe crushed my mother. My own reflection faded as the image of her bloodied body rose to mind. I muffled the cry that tried to fight its way out of me. Even if the whole thing had been a hallucination, the fear and sense of loss were real enough to me. I prayed that the others were right, and I had somehow dreamed up the whole day. That my mother was still alive and I could somehow find an explanation for all of this that would allow me to have her in my life without rejecting my aunts, without rejecting the line. The robe that went with the gown had been laid out over the chair. In spite of everything, I realized that I was starving, so I pulled on the robe and headed downstairs to find some breakfast.
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