Chapter 7

“And if you think I won’t ever be able to find you,” her mother had told Hazel in her teenage years, “then you’re wrong. You’re part of my blood. I will find you.”

At the time, her words were supposed to be both a threat to prevent Hazel from sneaking out in the middle of the night, and also a call for belonging, family, and all that other Hallmark channel stuff that, quite frankly, Hazel hated. Her memory of her mother’s line now only made her angry, much angrier than she ever had been before, because now she knew it was a lie. She wasn’t part of her mother’s blood. Hazel wasn’t part of the strange and twisted family tree of witches and elders and ancestors she’d grown up hearing stories about.

Hazel was adopted.