Chapter 91 - Before Dark

When they reached her house, Grant asked if she was sure she wanted to go in and offered to just grab some things for her while she waited in the car. She wasn’t keen on having some guy rummaging through her clothes, though, so she declined. Even if she was pretty sure he wasn’t a pervert, it was the principle of the thing.

“Do you need a bag?” he asked.

“No, I’ve got plenty in my closet.”

He followed her inside and up the stairs. The dots of blood on the steps were now dry, and she tried not to look into the bathroom as they passed the open door. She wondered who would clean it. She supposed someone had to, but whoever it was would need to be paid. She decided to just ask. “So, how’s it suppose to get cleaned?”

“Typically, it’s the responsibility of the homeowner or business owner. Your mom owns this house, right?”

“She’s not going to be able to afford that.”

“Well, Saffron will be able to work with her and let her know what her options are. There are programs to help pay for these things.”

Morrigan wasn’t happy about that. Her mom shouldn’t have to worry about the cleanup. That was just cruel. “Can I do it?”

“You don’t want to do that,” he said. “And I don’t think your mom would want you to, either. It would probably make her feel more guilty.”

He probably wasn’t wrong about that. Morrigan couldn’t ask Emma to do it either that was asking way too much. She wondered if Death could help somehow, and as she thought of that, it seemed like the most obvious answer. She didn’t like asking him for money, but this was probably a good time to put his unlimited funds to good use and have him pay for a cleaner.

“Mind giving me some privacy?” she asked at her bedroom door.

“Of course, go ahead.”

She shut the door behind herself and then just stared into her bedroom for a while. It was like a time capsule. It felt like ages since she’d been here, even though it had only been a few months. Everything was right where she left it—her bed unmade, familiar stacks of clothes littering any open space they could find, her sewing machine pushed into the corner, and a couple of stray pieces of dirty laundry on the floor.

She opened her closet, looking at her favorite outfits she had hanging in there—the ones she was most proud of restoring or creating herself. She wouldn’t bring those with her. She didn’t want them to turn black, but she just wanted to look at them for a moment. She remembered the hours spent sitting cross-legged on her bed or in front of the sewing machine, tailoring outfits and making them beautiful. She couldn’t wear them now, and as she shuffled through them, her heart ached to return to her old life. Not just before she died, but so far back in time that she could do everything differently and have been a different person in middle and high school. Or at least, she wished she’d been more authentic. Instead of passing off her creations as products bought from high-end stores, she could have told the truth and not lied so much.

She grabbed a tote bag and shut the door, moving to her other stacks of clothing. She started stuffing things in without much thought, then her eyes drifted over to her sewing machine. She thought about the girls at the shelter and how Cersi, in particular, was interested in sewing. She hadn’t thought about it before, but she actually had everything they needed to get started here. She knelt down by a plastic cubby next to her sewing machine that held all her random sewing supplies and started tossing things into the tote.

She threw in packs of different colored thread that had never been opened, needle sets, and a variety of fabric scraps she’d saved from other projects. She grabbed a small pair of fabric scissors, a seam ripper, and a few measuring tapes, tossing them all into the tote as well. She figured she might even be able to donate some of the clothes she gathered to the cause. The cool thing about this hobby is that you can find fabric anywhere, so if any of them really got into it, all they’d have to do is repurpose old stuff that would otherwise get thrown away.

The tote was now stuffed and at risk of spilling over, so she carefully picked it up by the straps. She took one last look around her room, just taking it in. She couldn’t help but wonder how things would be different right now if she had never taken the shortcut through the graveyard that day, or at least never confronted those boys. She supposed she would be thinking about school starting up again in just a few weeks. Her mom probably wouldn’t be in the hospital, and Morrigan definitely wouldn’t know Death and Noir.

Then she thought about Emma. She probably would have never found out Emma was a witch, and Morrigan herself would still be lying about her life. There’s no way they would be as close as they had gotten over these last months. Not only that, she probably never would have had such a heart-to-heart conversation with her mom. She just wished something so terrible didn’t have to happen first before being able to open up to her.

She finally turned toward the door, put her hand on the doorknob, but paused one last time, looking over her shoulder into her room. It had only been a day, but she missed Emma. They’d seen each other or at least talked every day for the last couple of months since Morrigan healed from the Changeling attack. She really wanted to talk to her now.

Finally, she opened the door to find Grant waiting in the hall.

He raised an eyebrow at the overstuffed tote and the random sewing paraphernalia precariously nestled on top. “Didn’t exactly pack light, did you?”

“Some of it’s for the girls at the shelter. I promised to teach a few of them how to sew.”

He nodded. “I see. Well, are you ready?”

“Yeah, let’s go.”

***

Back at the shelter, as promised, one of the other staff members searched Morrigan’s bag. It was the blonde woman who had brought her dinner in her room the night before. Morrigan hadn’t caught her name, but she had an air about her like she didn’t want to be there. Morrigan could relate. Or maybe she was just annoyed that Morrigan had brought so much and made her job more difficult.

Sarah picked up the small plastic box of needles and turned it in her hand, sarcastically asking, “Don’t suppose you can pick locks with these, can you?”

“Never tried,” Morrigan answered. She didn’t think she could, though. Her best bet would be something like a credit card, if Noir hadn’t already promised to bring the skeleton key, that is.

“Everything looks okay here,” the blonde woman said after scattering the last article of once neatly folded clothing. It wasn’t all going to fit back into the bag without some effort now.

Sarah nodded. “I’ll help you bring everything up to your room. Same rules as earlier today; I want you either in your bedroom or the living room, okay?”

“Sure,” Morrigan answered.

Morrigan stuffed as much back into the bag as she could, and Sarah assisted by taking an armload herself.

“So how much longer am I on probation?” Morrigan joked.

“We’ll just see how things go. So, how’s your leg?”

“It’s okay. Just hurts a little,” Morrigan answered, and now that she was thinking about it again, the dull thump of pain became more noticeable.

In the living room, Jenna’s crew were still crowded around the TV, and Morrigan noticed a few dirty looks come her way, though none of them said anything. Beth and Cersi were nowhere in sight, though Morrigan could smell something cooking, so she suspected they were in the kitchen. Back in her room, Pepper was sitting on her bed, knees folded up to her chest with a book in her hands.

“Oh, welcome back,” she said in her small voice as she closed her book.

Morrigan and Sarah dumped the clothes onto Morrigan’s bed. “Hey, Pepper,” Morrigan said.

“Sorry we had to go through your things, Morrigan,” Sarah said. “Want help folding?”

“No, that’s okay.”

“Alright, well, dinner is in an hour and a half.”

After Sarah left, Morrigan got to work folding her clothes and transferring them to the small dresser. Pepper seemed at a loss between wither talking to Morrigan or returning to her book for a short time until she eventually opted for conversation. “Um… how’s your mom?”

“Doing okay, all things considered,” Morrigan answered. “So, I got some stuff for sewing like I promised.”

Pepper came over, shuffling her hands. She looked excited… or at least Morrigan thought she did. It was hard to tell with her. Morrigan set all the supplies on the nightstand and briefly explained what each was.

“There are a few more things I’d recommend getting from Hobby Hut if you guys end up really getting into sewing. This is enough to get started, though.”

“You mean you’re giving all of this to us?” Pepper asked, her eyes widening slightly.

Morrigan chuckled. “Trust me, I have extras.” Then Morrigan got a little more serious and glanced toward the door, listening for anyone in the hallway. It was a pretty squeaky house, so she’d be able to hear if anyone was coming. “So… about tonight,” Morrigan said quietly.

Pepper gulped and nodded slowly, a flicker of apprehension crossing her face. “Do you mean…?”

Morrigan exhaled. “I’m sneaking out tonight. I have some other things I have to go do, but I plan on reaping your sister while I’m out.”

“How are you going to get out?”

“That won’t be a problem… trust me. But when I’m done, she’ll be gone. She’ll be in heaven where I think she’ll be back to her normal self… I don’t really know how it works exactly, though.”

“So… can I come?” Pepper asked.

“Are you sure you want to? It could be dangerous.”

Pepper’s voice lowered to a whisper. “She’s my sister.”

Morrigan nodded. “If you were thinking about last words or anything like that… Look, I don’t want you to get the wrong idea. She’s a hollow, and at this point, she’s been one for a long time. There won’t be much in the way of a final farewell.”

Pepper’s fists clenched. “I still want to be there. I don’t care if she doesn’t understand or can’t respond. There’s something I just have to say first.”

Morrigan stared at her, then sighed and said, “Alright. Well, I have a friend who’s going to help us escape. He’s… well, you’ll see. He won’t be happy about me bringing you, though, but just let me handle him.”

Pepper turned her head, a bit of concern in her eyes. Morrigan knew it was risky bringing Pepper, but she understood the need for closure. Even if it was just Pepper shouting her last words, it would go a long way. And who knows, maybe some of it would actually get through to Juniper. Pepper was mortal, so she’d meet her in heaven one day. So, Morrigan thought it’d be good to give her this last chance here on earth. Besides, Pepper wasn’t a normal person in the first place, and it’s not like she didn’t already have a deep connection to the supernatural. So, Morrigan wouldn’t accept any complaints from Noir about this.