“Language,” Patricia chastises, but her face looks pretty “holy shit” too. She covers trembling fingers with her burgundy shawl, to hide them from me, I think. “And you’ve never called on an ancestor for any of these abilities?”

“No.”

“If you aren’t asking to borrow these powers, then they’ve been bound to you somehow.”

“Bound to me—” I stutter, shaking my head. “No. I mean, bound by who?” Her warning about the Order and their powers comes back to me all in a rush. “You think I’m a Bloodcrafter? No, I’ve never—”

“I know,” Patricia says. “This is why I’ve asked Mariah here today. To get answers.”

Mariah nods to Patricia. “I definitely get it now,” she says, then points a finger at me. “You need to talk to your ancestors.”

I look between the two of them. “You’re serious, aren’t you?”

The corner of Mariah’s mouth twitches. “On the other side, they have access to more knowledge than we do. When Doc Hartwood called me this morning, I set out offerings for my grandma to pass the gift to me today. Sometimes, if I’m lucky, I can help other people talk to their ancestors too.”

My throat closes tight, my stomach clenches, and my fingers grip the earth beside my knees. Could I really see my mother? Talk to her like I did Louisa? Ask her what happened that night?

“You… can help me talk to my mom? See her again?”

Mariah’s face folds, and I can tell she expected my question. “I can help you call for your people, but I don’t control who answers.”

I nod and blink stinging tears away. My chest is full of the sharp pang of loss and an unexpected feeling of relief. When I imagine seeing my mother again—something I never thought possible—it feels like there are a thousand words that want to come out of my mouth at once. So very many that I cannot speak at all.

Like she’s read my mind, Patricia leans forward to touch my knee. “Love is a powerful thing, more powerful than blood, although both run through us like a river. She may answer you, but if she does not, she still loves you.”

I nod, but my emotions are swirling inside me like a hurricane. “How does it work?”

Mariah folds her hands in her lap. “I amplify the connection between family members, and then make the request. Sort of like sonar. The ancestor who responds might be your mother, it might be a grandparent or great-grandparent, or even further back. If the signal’s strong enough. I can help you speak to them.”