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She stumbles out into the street, tears streaming down her cheeks. How could she be so stupid? Her cheek stings from her mother’s slap, her entire body aches from the fight with the Grimm, and the cold night air prickles against her skin, almost unbearable without her inner Hexenbiest there to protect her. How do other people deal with this?
Of course, all of those are minor compared to the way her heart is twisted up inside, every voice in her head screaming at once. She’s normal. Just like everyone else. She let her mother down, let Sean down, and now, nobody cares. The only two people left in the world who made her feel like she mattered, and now, she has nothing to offer them.
And all because of the Grimm.
Her stomach churns, and fury prickles under her skin. How dare he? He took everything from her, and he had the nerve to seem confused, as though ripping her in half was a strange oddity to be gawked at.
Maybe she should rip him in half, too.
At first, it’s just a half-thought, a wistful dream in the back of her mind. After all, she’s powerless now. What could she possibly do to a Grimm?
… On the other hand, she still has her potions. She could still put something together. And Nick may be powerful, but Juliette seems mostly harmless. Perfectly sweet, in fact, and a little too trusting. A good combination. And Nick took everything from Adalind; why shouldn’t she return the favor?
She could kill Juliette, of course, but that would be too easy, and it wouldn’t really get her anywhere. It would be a petty attempt at lashing out. But surely there’s something.
What she needs is help. Support, from someone who’s willing to help her hurt the Grimm. Help her get revenge on Sean. Sean, who she loved with everything that she was. Sean, who threw her away like she was nothing, and all for something she couldn’t control. Nick’s smarter than her? Not likely.
The Royals might help, she realizes. And ohh, wouldn’t that be sweet? The look on Sean’s face when he saw her on his brother’s arm? Priceless.
Her decision is all but made when a car pulls up beside her, and rolls down the window.
“You look chilly,” an unfamiliar woman announces, and Adalind blinks, drawing back.
“I’m fine.” She may not be everything her mother hoped for, but at the very least, she understands the dangers of getting into cars with strangers.
The woman chuckles softly. “You’re really not.” She has an accent Adalind can’t place, something light and pleasant, just shy of British. “But you will be.”
Adalind crosses her arms over her chest, desperately wishing she weren’t so cold. “Who are you?” She’s going to run soon, she promises herself. As soon as she can work up the strength. “What do you want?”
“My name is Elizabeth.” The woman-Elizabeth, apparently-gestures for her to get into the car. “And I want to help you. You’ve been through a terrible ordeal, I know.”
Everything in her screams that it’s an awful idea, but honestly, what choice does she have? No one else is going to help her, and the Royals are a long shot at best. What does she even have to offer them? What’s the worst this woman can do? Even death might be preferable to living like this: useless and unwanted.
Before she can talk herself out of it, she opens the door, settling into the seat. Elizabeth presses a button, and the window rolls up.
The first thing Adalind notices is the warmth. It curls around her, almost blissful after the icy air outside. The second thing she notices is the curious way Elizabeth is watching her: just studying her, openly curious.
Adalind clears her throat. “Okay. I’m here. So how, exactly, do you think you can help me?”
Elizabeth laughs lightly. “I don’t think, child. I know.” Child? This woman can’t possibly be that much older than her. “But first, you need to warm up. I’ve heard that it’s miserable at first,” she adds, reaching into the back seat and grabbing an oversized red sweatshirt. She hands it to Adalind, who barely hesitates before taking it. Anything, at this point, to ease the chill inside her.
The shirt itself is absolutely perfect: impossibly soft, too large for either herself or Elizabeth, swallowing her in warmth. And it smells safe. Familiar, somehow.
After a few short seconds, she realizes exactly why the smell is familiar, and in spite of both the clothes and the heater, she’s suddenly cold down to her bones.
“Who are you?” She breathes, even as she slowly reaches for the door. The door, which locks without warning, trapping her firmly inside. No. No, no, no! She can already hear her mother’s voice- stupid, stupid Adalind -and Sean’s, taunting her for listening to a stranger. And the worst part is, they’re right, they’re both right, she’s an absolute idiot, and-
“Relax.” It isn’t an assurance, but a command, and clearly one this Elizabeth expects her to follow. “You’re safe here.”
“Why does this shirt smell like Sean? ” She growls, and Elizabeth arches a brow in a way that instantly makes Adalind regret her tone. “I mean…”
Elizabeth sighs, leaning back in her seat. “I don’t blame you for being skittish,” she says finally. “My son is a wonderful man, but he can’t always see the value of people in his life. And you, my dear, have great value, with or without your powers.”
She’s so caught up in the last words- she still thinks I’m valuable? That I matter? -she almost misses the implication.
Almost.
“You’re Sean’s mother? ” The woman might be a little young to call her child, but she’s definitely too young for that. She doesn’t look any older than Sean, for crying out loud. Although… Sean’s mother would be a Hexenbiest. And Adalind has heard stories about Hexenbiests who can hold onto eternal youth somehow. Her own mother was never quite able to pull it off, so she settles for leeches and powder instead.
Elizabeth smiles. “I’ll fill you in on everything tomorrow. But right now, you need to eat. And you need some rest; you’ll have to be in top condition for everything to come.”
“But I’m not tired,” Adalind protests, hating how childish she sounds. It isn’t entirely true-she’s frankly exhausted -but she doesn’t think she’ll be able to sleep a wink with all of the thoughts rushing around in her head on a loop: The sting of her mother’s hand against her cheek, Sean’s cold expression, Nick’s cruelty, and Sean’s mother, who is apparently going to help her?
Shaking her head, Elizabeth shifts gears, starting down the road. “I can help with that,” she murmurs, and Adalind isn’t sure if it’s a promise or a threat.
She’s still not altogether sure she shouldn’t have run away, but it’s too late now, so she snuggles into the sweater, briefly allowing herself to pretend that it’s Sean holding her. Pathetic? Maybe, but who’s going to know? “Thank you,” she says, because she feels like she should say something. This complete stranger is offering to help her, after all.
Elizabeth hums. “It won’t be easy. The things to come,” she clarifies. “They will be incredibly difficult. I believe that you can handle them. But Adalind?”
“Yes?” She braces herself for the catch, the warning, the line in the sand.
“Even if you cannot accomplish all that I hope you will… I won’t cast you aside.” She turns, meeting Adalind’s eyes fiercely, and Adalind absently wishes she’d keep her eyes on the road, but she isn’t about to suggest it. Maybe Elizabeth’s Hexenbiest senses are guiding her? (She’s going with that, anyway.) “What your mother did was unconscionable. No parent should ever be so heartless toward their own child.” Adalind thinks of what little Sean has told her about his father, and wonders if Elizabeth is even talking about Adalind’s mother anymore.
“I let her down,” she protests, because that is her mother. She probably owes her some attempt at a defense.
Elizabeth shakes her head. “She let you down,” she corrects, tone leaving no room for argument. “You should never have been treated like that.” She returns her gaze to the road, thankfully. After a pause, she smiles to herself. “You know, I’ve never had a daughter. I think, perhaps, this will be good for both of us.”
That has… A lot of implications Adalind isn’t quite sure how to unpack. Has she just been adopted without her consent? Can she even be adopted? She’s a grown woman, after all. And why would this woman just take her in like this? What will Sean think?
She fiercely pushes away the last thought, actually shaking her head to get rid of it, before clearing her throat. “Look, you’re being really, really nice to me, and I don’t really know why, but… Thank you. Seriously.”
Elizabeth smiles, reaching over without looking and giving Adalind’s arm a gentle squeeze. “Rest now. I’ll wake you when we’re home.”
Adalind feels herself obeying before she can even think it through, and she absently wonders if that’s magic or just a mixture of exhaustion and relief. Her last thought, half-conscious and lost to dreams, somehow unafraid, is this: Where exactly is home?