“An arranged marriage. Some man named The Reaper,” I whisper.
Gran holds me even tighter, murmuring in Slovak. She was born here, but English was her second language, not that you’d know it. She sounds like any other New Yorker.
Mom spins away from us, openly cursing. “I fucking knew it! That goddamn bastard wanted nothing to do with you the second he found out you were sick, but the minute he needs something, he acts like he owns you. One month old—the most precious, perfect little baby in the world—and he gave it all up because of a little hearing loss. You don’t get to throw away a child like that. I told him never to come back, and I meant it. Men like him don’t get second chances.” She paces like a madwoman while she rants, eventually putting on her shoes, then hunting down her purse.
Mom has always advocated for my abilities at the top of her lungs since I lost hearing in my left ear as a baby. She was also the first to come to bat the moment anyone doubted or teasedme. And she has never—not even for a second—forgiven Biba for using my hearing loss as an excuse to abandon us. This latest turn of events only adds fuel to her fire.
“Mom, stop. What are you doing?” I call out.
“I may have just been the other woman, but that doesn’t mean I’m powerless. I can still go have words with him.”
“No, Mom.” I rush across the room and block the front door. “I don’t know what he was like before, but he’s not the sort of man you argue with now. I looked in those hollow eyes of his, and nothing was staring back. The man has no soul.”
“I’m the mother here—” She only gets the first part of her sentence out before Gran finally steps in.
“No,” she barks loudly. “I’mthe mother here, and you will do no such thing. Both of you will come sit with me at the table, and we will talk this over rationally before anyone does anything. Understood?”
Gran is so loving and chill that in the rare instances when she asserts herself, compliance is the only option. The tension in the room reduces to a simmer as we walk to the kitchen table, each taking our unspoken assigned seats.
“Now, let’s figure out what we know, then we can work on a plan to deal with the situation. Dani?”
“Yes?”
“When is this wedding supposed to take place?”
“I don’t think it’s set in stone, but he said his plan is to have me married in a week,” I say meekly. I wish I had her strength, but I feel so defeated. So powerless.
Gran nods.
Mom glowers. “Okay, so we go off the assumption of one week.” She shakes her head. “You know, this is exactly why I never got married. Men only make your life more complicated—they only care about themselves.”
Mom’s opinion about marriage is less than favorable in the best of circumstances. This situation doesn’t help matters. In her words, there’s no worse decision a woman can make than to marry a man. Her romantic interests never panned out well, and it’s left her a bit jaded about men in general.
Gran sees things very differently. She adored Grandpa Miro, or so I’m told. I was young when he died, so I don’t remember him. What I can say for certain is that every time Gran mentions him, her smile is infectious, and the corners of her eyes crease with love.
“This is not the time, Petra,” Gran chastens, then looks back at me. “And you say this man is called Reaper?”
“That’s what Biba said.” I shrug. “I really don’t know much more about any of it.”
Again, Gran nods. “Then we have a week to get you somewhere safe.”
“But Gran,” I say warily. “He said if I run, he’ll come after you guys. I can’t let that happen.”
“Sweet Dani.” She places her wrinkled hand over mine. “I understand how hard this is for you, but try to imagine you have a precious little girl with a full life ahead of her. You’ve raised her from a little baby and want to give her the world. Would you be willing to let her become the property of a monster while you sit home and watchJeopardy?”
I bite my bottom lip, realizing she has a point. “I hadn’t thought about it like that.”
“I know, and that’s okay. You don’t have any little ones yet, but one day you might, and then you’ll see. We’d rather be dead ourselves than let something happen to you.”
“What if we all go together?”
“Then he’d be that much more apt to find you. I’m an old woman and have no business living on the run. Besides, this willprobably all blow over soon enough, and that way, you’ll have a home to come back to.”
Gran and Mom stare earnestly at me until I nod my acceptance. “Okay, but if I do this, you have to do something to protect yourselves as well. I can’t just leave knowing you’re in danger.”
My seventy-three-year-old grandmother smiles warmly and squeezes my hand. “I have a cousin who’ll help. We’ll be fine.”
“They’ll let you stay with them?”
