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The two extra legs retracted into Rue’s body as she grew in size, still seated on the cold stone counter. The room shifted colors around her, vibrant shades disappearing, her normal range of color vision returning, and she was almost sad to see it go. She could feel her bones regrowing inside her, the wings and antennae reabsorbing, the fuzz diminishing and changing back to the normal earthy, woody color of her natural hair. Like when she’d changed into the bee or the blackbird, there was no pain other than that pulsing through her leg from Father’s attack. She watched her hands as they shifted back into the familiar fingers and nails once again, joy bubbling up from deep in her stomach.
And then she was back—Rue, Aimee, whoever she was as a human.
She tore her gaze up and away from her hands, up to the woman who had reversed the spell Rue herself had woven.
Her mother.
The woman’s own hand covered her mouth, eyes wide and glittering with unshed tears. “Aimee?”
Rue, suddenly self-conscious, scooted toward the edge of the counter and carefully onto the floor. Her leg buckled under her, and the woman surged forward to grab her arm, holding her up.
“Oh, you poor thing!” The woman placed Rue’s hand on the counter to steady her and turned to a cupboard on the other side of the room. She rummaged for a few moments, then returned with another jar. She pulled the lid off and mimed drinking it, then handed it to Rue.
Rue took it with her free hand and held it under her nose. Scents of herbs and flowers and something else—something that made her nose tickle—drifted out of the jar. It smelled medicinal, like something Mother would have given her to fend off a fever.
She looked back up at the woman, who pushed the jar toward her again encouragingly. Cautiously, Rue lifted it to her lips, tasting the bitter herbs on her tongue. She took a swallow of it, and the woman took the jar back as glitter surrounded Rue and coalesced around her injury. Her leg tingled and warmed under the tickle of the magic, and then the pain faded.
Rue slowly released the edge of the counter, adding weight a little at a time to her leg. When no pain struck her and it held her solidly, she smiled. “Thank you!”
But the woman’s face scrunched up in confusion, much like Henry’s had the first time they tried to talk. She spun toward the table behind her and picked up the willowy stick again, then swished it through the air in Rue’s direction.
“Would you mind trying that again?” she said.
“Thank you?”
The woman smiled in relief. “Much better.” She hesitated, studying the floor. “I’m sorry, you just look like... someone I used to know. But she’s been gone for years.” She looked back up at Rue and flashed a sad smile. The woman had called her Aimee, just like Henry thought she was.
A crash came from outside, louder this time, closer. Their time was up.
The woman’s gaze shot to the window, full of concern, though strangely not fear. “What are they doing here, anyway? Where did you come from?”
It was now or never. She’d have to tell the woman everything, starting with Henry, ending with the family. And fast.
Rue took a deep breath, and the story came tumbling out. The woman listened intently, tapping her chin as Rue talked, interrupting only once or twice to clarify something. But oddly, she did not seem surprised by Rue’s tale—even of Henry’s current state.
When Rue had finally finished, the woman said, “Well, I’m inclined to believe Henry. And my own eyes. I do think you are Aimee. But there will be time for that later. I don’t know what is keeping Aaron—your father. But if you used the wand once, perhaps the two of us can get it back and you can send them home again. They won’t be safe here. And neither will we.”
And then the woman—her real mother, Rose—laid out a simple, daring plan.
***
MOTHER AND GRUN HAD begun pounding on the walls while Rose still explained her plan. Though she hoped Aaron would hear her call and come to help, she wasn’t optimistic. According to her, Aaron was “miles away.” Whatever that meant.
That left her and Rue to somehow get Mother and Grun back to their island and change Henry back to himself. Rue wasn’t so sure about this plan, but she had nothing better to offer. And Rose had promised to give her enough magic to give her speed, strength, acrobatic skills she never had before. Hopefully it would give her enough of an edge to take them on.
She followed Rose through a hall to the other side of the building, and they snuck out a door on the far side. Rue wiped her palms on her thighs, staying close behind Rose as they crept along the wall, around the corner, and back toward the meadow where the family tried desperately to break into the house.
Rose held her wand at the ready, and they both peeked around the last corner separating them.
Rue had to clap a hand over her mouth to keep from gasping at the sight. Both Grun and Mother slammed their fists against the side of the building, their fur matted and bloodied, the bees still hovering nearby even though they had stopped attacking. Mother clutched the white wand, though it was now scuffed with dark dirt.
The plan was simple in theory. Distract the Bigfoots, get the wand, use the wand. Simple.
But Rue knew the fury behind the roars. She’d heard it enough times, been subject to its whims. Distracting would be the easy part. Surviving would be hard.
They ducked back behind the corner, and Rue looked up at Rose. “Now?” she whispered.
Rose nodded. “Now.”
Rose stepped toward the edge again and flicked her wand across the field, toward the line of trees. The white sparkles danced like bees across the flowers, growing, spreading, multiplying. Some soaked into two of the trees at the edge of the forest while the rest sank into the ground and disappeared. A crack resounded across the meadow, and before Rue’s eyes, the two trees pulled up their roots and slammed them down, free of the earth. They shook their branches, raining leaves and bugs to the ground.
They began advancing just as Mother and Grun turned, their roars silenced. At the same time, Rose swished the wand at Rue, imbuing her with skills she’d never possessed in her life. Yet, all she felt was the slightest tingle.
That was Rue’s cue. She leapt from her hiding place, sprinting along the back of the building toward Mother. Toward that vicious glare. Toward the one who thought her useless as anything other than a mate for Grun.
She jumped at the side of the building, springing off of it and up, aiming for Mother’s shoulders. She landed just as the first of the trees reached Grun, and Mother held up the white wand toward them.
The wand exploded in sparks, but Rue’s attack was enough to throw it off target and they flew into the sky harmlessly. She wrapped her legs around Mother, heart pounding in exertion and fear.
She could do this. She could defy the family, find her own life. Mother may have saved her, but that didn’t mean Rue owed the woman the rest of her future. It didn’t mean Mother could treat Rue however she wanted.
It didn’t mean Rue was only worthwhile so long as she was useless. And she was never, ever going back.
The thought, pushing its way past her defenses, caught Rue’s breath, and she gasped, nearly falling from Mother’s back. It was the first time she’d dared to think she might have a chance to stay here, where she’d been born. The first time she’d allowed herself to believe that Mother’s will wasn’t best for her.
Rue readjusted her grip on Mother and reached for the wand again. She could do this. She would do this. For Henry. For her real family.
For herself.
Her fingers wrapped around the wand, its carved surface warm to her touch, reaching for her, calling for her in a way she hadn’t noticed last time she’d held it. It was almost like the wand knew her.
Mother suddenly shook fiercely, sending Rue flying through the air and into the side of the building. The air rushed out of Rue’s lungs, leaving her gasping to breathe as both Mother and Grun spun on her. They advanced quickly, running at her. She threw her arms over her head as she cowered, still unable to breathe, let alone move.
The ground squirmed under her, and Rue looked up in time to see vines, sparkling with the same white glitter she’d seen disappear into the ground only moments ago, slithering along the ground, wrapping themselves up the Bigfoots’ legs and climbing their bodies.
“Call it!” Rose shouted, her twig wand pointed at the shambling trees. “Call the wand!”
Rue scrambled to the side, away from the Bigfoots and out of the vines’ way. Call the wand? What did that even mean?
“Do it!” Rose cried again, swishing her own wand at the closest tree. The tree took another step forward, its branch creaking upward as it prepared to strike down at Grun.
Rue pushed herself to her feet and extended her arm. She squinted at it, desperately reaching out with her mind, willing it to come to her fingers.
The wand yanked itself back and forth in Mother’s grip, and Mother grabbed it with her other hand, giving up her fight with the vines.
Grun slammed into Rue, and Rue’s body snapped backward, hitting the ground. The connection broke, and she blinked back stars in her vision. Her head throbbed and buzzed, and through the limited sight before her, one of the trees swung a huge branch at Grun, knocking him back even harder than he’d hit her.
Rue pushed herself up, seeking out Mother again. She needed that wand. Mother couldn’t have any chances to come back, to come after her, to take her back or kill her.
Mother was still tangled in vines, but even as Rue watched, she turned the white wand at her feet, sending sparks down to the vines. The vines froze, then retracted, releasing Mother bit by bit.
Rue’s heart flopped. Her head still spun, stars danced in her eyes, and now Mother was free. Turning toward her. Raising the wand.
No.
Rue lifted her hand again, fighting past the pain and confusion. She would not go down this easily.
Mother couldn’t stop her from this. Couldn’t take this from her. She wasn’t flotsam. She didn’t exist merely to make others happy.
She called again for the wand. This time, the wand spun out of Mother’s hand, through the air, and landed with a smack securely in Rue’s hand. The connection flared brighter, clicking into place as if it always belonged and was home again.
That left one more thing to do in Rose’s plan: send them back to their island, locked away from Rue for the rest of time.
She raised the wand, remembering the collapsed burrow, the brothers, Father. Her haven was the only bit of the island she would miss. Magic swirled around the tip of the wand, and then the white sparkles formed around Mother and Grun. It would carry them away, back to their home—keep them from ever leaving that island again.
In the blink of an eye, they were gone, and Rue collapsed to her knees. She was finally away from them, finally safe.
Finally home.
