Sir Kipling stared at her skeptically but flicked his ears in agreement. He jumped down from the toilet and came to rub on her legs, leaving long, grey hairs on her expensive stockings.
“Stop that,” she scolded, picking him up to “save” her stockings even as it ensured a liberal layer of grey hairs on her blouse. She held him tight for a moment, letting all her fear and uncertainty drain away in the soothing rumble of his purr and the soft comfort of his fur. He endured the squeeze patiently, then craned his neck to land a lick on her forehead, despite her attempt to avoid him.
“You always ruin it,” she grumbled, setting him back down on the floor and then turning the faucet off.
“A simple yet effective survival technique,” he purred smugly.
Peeking out the bathroom door to ensure her bedroom was empty, she let Sir Kipling out and went to open the window. “How are you going to get down?” she asked.
“I’ll manage,” was all he replied as he hopped up onto the windowsill. Lily noticed the sill was only slightly above a stone ledge that wound its way around the edge of the ornamental stone carvings that decorated the side of the building.
“Now,” he said, turning, “make my life easier, if you please, and stay out of trouble.”
“Me?” Lily asked, incredulous. “Don’t you mean you? I always stay out of trouble.”
Sir Kipling narrowed his eyes. “Yes, I mean you. And if you need me, I’ll probably be around. The mice on this island are particularly fat and lazy.” With that, he hopped down onto the ledge and disappeared from sight around a stone carving.
Despite her indignation, Lily was sad to see him go. Closing the window quietly, she undressed and went to bed as the loneliness crept back in. In the middle of the night, she was roused again by the ghostly moans, and this time she stayed up deep into the night, listening and thinking.
The next morning she woke all on her own, bleary-eyed and still tired from her nighttime vigil. Dressing and padding down to the breakfast room, she found Henry and John Faust at the table this time, both absorbed in their respective reading materials. For a brief moment, she smiled internally. If this was a family who read at the table, she would fit right in.
Quietly taking a seat opposite her father and to the left of her grandfather, she buttered some toast and heaped eggs and sausage onto her plate from silver platters in the middle of the table. After a polite amount of time was allowed for her to make headway on her food, John Faust put down his book and gave her a small smile.
“Good morning, Lily. You slept well, I hope?”
“Yes, thank you,” she lied. “It sounds as if someone else did not, however.” She cocked an ear as a refined, feminine voice floated through the open doors. It raised and lowered in pitch, probably complaining about something to a flustered construct.
“My mother is bit of a wreck whenever we throw a party. You understand we are relatively understaffed for such a large estate. This mansion was built to comfortably house an extended family, each with their own retinue, in addition to all the housecleaning and groundskeeping staff. We make do with our constructs, but mother goes through the menial labor ones so quickly.”
Lily raised an eyebrow, silently asking for elaboration.
“The most easily made constructs,” he explained, “need clear, simple, and consistent commands—though even they require a long and involved process to create. I make mother a housecleaning construct, and she ignores everything I’ve told her about its use and tells it to do things willy-nilly, confusing the poor thing. Eventually the magic breaks down under the stress and I have to recast all the runes. She does the same with many of the other constructs I make her. Only the family constructs, the ones made for our ancestors, seem to wear her with grace. They were created to be much more multi-use, which is why they’ve lasted so long. Unfortunately, I can’t seem to replicate them. Construct-making is an art, and wizards who’ve mastered it are understandably reluctant to share their methods. Certain wizard families have had a monopoly on construct-making for centuries, and believe me, they make a fortune. I’ve done the best I can with the simple methods found in general tomes. I don’t have time to study it more deeply, despite the grey hairs it gives mother.”
Trying to hide her smile at his irreverent, if fond, attitude toward Ursula, Lily concentrated on eating. She felt at ease amongst the quieter members of her family and loved the way John Faust readily and thoroughly explained things to her. Madam Barrington always limited what she shared to the essentials Lily needed to know to master magic and casting, as if she were afraid of saying too much.
When she was finished, John Faust put down his book. “I expect you’d like to see my workshop?” he asked, a smile on his lips and a gleam in his eye.
Lily nodded. “Very much so.”
“Follow me.” Nodding to his father, who nodded back at both of them, he rose and led Lily out of the breakfast room and down the west hall. Apparently his workshop occupied the end room of the west wing, mirroring the location of the library on the other side of the house. Drawing close to its door, Lily felt very strong magical wards pushing back which let her through only reluctantly as John Faust murmured inaudible phrases under his breath with each advancing step.
There were several small rooms on either side of the hall close to the end. Their doors were shut and warded so strongly that Lily felt the impulse to shrink back from them. She wondered what they contained.
With a series of commands and, lastly, a large brass key, John Faust unlocked the end door and led Lily through. Upon stepping inside, she was even more awed than she’d been by the library. The room’s basic architecture mirrored the library’s, and there were books here as well. But only half of the shelf space was occupied by tomes. The rest was filled with odds and ends, devices, sculptures, strange artwork, artifacts, and many more things besides. A roll-top desk overflowing with haphazard stacks of paper sat against the west wall between two windows. In the middle of the southern portion of the room stood a very large worktable covered in tools and materials, the results of frequent crafting and rune carving. Because of its position it had the best natural light. In addition, dozens of light globes floated all around the room, making it even brighter.
Turning to the right, Lily saw that the whole north wall under the landing was covered with innumerable pieces of parchment pinned to its surface. The papers bore an assortment of pictures, diagrams, and scribbles in languages she didn’t recognize, though she picked out the dimmu runes easily enough. A thrill of excitement coursed through her at the thought of all the things waiting to be learned in this paradise of knowledge. She would have to remember to show her father her eduba and see if he could help her unravel all its mysteries.
Still looking around, she glanced up at the landing and saw the curving top of a largish device which framed a chair. The chair was old-fashioned, as if it came from a dentist’s office in the 1940s. Tables around the chair were cluttered with bottles, papers, books, and strange devices she couldn’t make out from her position. She could, however, see that the landing walkway on this side of the house led not to a door opening onto the second floor, but a blank wall, as if the door had been removed and the gap walled up. That made the heavily warded door on the ground floor the only entrance to John Faust’s workroom.
Lily walked further into the room, fascinated by everything around her and turning this way and that to take it all in. On a side table next to a reading chair sat the most realistic-looking sculpture of a raven she’d ever seen. Every feather was intricately carved. She reached out to touch it, but it suddenly twisted its head to eye her. Starting in shock, she almost fell backward into John Faust’s arms.
“Steady, Lily,” he chuckled. “I promise, it doesn’t bite.”
“Is it...real?” she asked, bewildered. Was this the lone bird she’d seen hanging around the estate? But that one had been alive...or had it?
“Of course not.” John Faust came around to stand by the bird
. “Though I appreciate the compliment. This is Oculus, my finest work, even if I did have to bribe and threaten to acquire some of its more complex spells. It helps me keep an eye on the estate. The island is quite large, and mundanes are always trying to come ashore for picnics and hiking. The wards are a reliable defense, but a pair of roaming eyes is always useful.”
Peering closer, she was finally able to separate the seeming from the actual construct. She hadn’t noticed it before because it fit so snugly, the magical illusion only adding a rustle of feathers and a beady glint of life to each shining pupil. Everything else about it was so lifelike already. Well, now she knew why it had always been alone. Mundanes might be fooled by the seeming, but animals would know the difference and shy away.
She stepped away from the raven while simultaneously trying to keep an eye on it, a feat that backfired when she bumped into something that rattled. Turning and shrinking back in surprise, she realized it was a human skeleton. A real one.
“That,” John Faust said with a fond smile, “is your great-great-grandfather, Algernon Blackwood.” Lily started, noticing how close Blackwood was to Sebastian’s own surname, Blackwell. But John Faust didn’t notice her surprise, staring as he was at the grinning skull. “Born 1869, he died in 1985 and donated his remains to scientific research. He has continued to be very useful to the family, even in death. I’ve used tissue and bone samples from him to make quite a bit of headway in my research on what makes us wizards.”
Lily shuddered involuntarily, revolted despite her curiosity. She preferred to stick to books and manuscripts. “Why are you researching that? What do you hope to accomplish?” she asked instead, trying to distract herself from that grisly visage.
“It’s quite simple, really,” John Faust said, taking a seat in the cushioned chair by the raven. “Wizardkind is dwindling, not only in number but also in power. It’s been happening for hundreds of years, and no one has thought to do anything about it. Or else those who did had neither the resources nor the knowledge to find a solution.”
Looking around, Lily found her own chair and sat on the very edge, hanging on her father’s every word and trying to ignore Oculus’s beady stare. It remained still and silent but watched her every move.
“It’s worse now than it ever was, unfortunately,” he continued. “Mundane science has reached such a peak that many wizard families use their magic less and less. They see less value in it and even consider it a shame or hindrance. They want to assimilate, be like everyone else. Science has lulled us into a false sense of security that there’s no more need for magic and the danger that accompanies it. We are a dying breed, daughter. But I am determined to not let us become extinct.
“The first step is to preserve the family lines and promote large families. Unfortunately, I’m working against years of tradition. Historically, large wizard families fell prey to infighting and disputes over every imaginable thing. Oftentimes it would cause disruption in the community and there was the risk of witch hunts. Of course, they were simply an excuse to squash anything out of the ordinary, whether magic, witchcraft, or just someone with odd habits. To remain hidden, it was considered proper to have no more than two children, three if the first two were girls. And, of course, because of what magic could accomplish, wizard families were often the most powerful and wealthy in the community, and the upper class has always had low birth rates.
“But in our modern times, there is no longer a stigma against magic. The whole world is open to us and mundanes barely bat an eye at the supernatural. They are comfortable in their disbelief, surrounded by a culture that bombards them with their fantasies, making them unable to differentiate between real and imagined. There is no reason now not to have large wizard families, except our own laziness and pride.”
“But...father,” Lily began timidly, “Don’t you have only one child?” She couldn’t bear to look him in the eye when she asked the question, afraid of what his answer might be. So she pretended to examine the nearest bookshelf as she waited for his answer.
It was long in coming and sounded tired. Defeated. “I never got over your mother. I tried, but I could never bring myself to remarry, much to your grandmother’s frustration. She certainly paraded enough eligible women past me, but...I just couldn’t...” he sighed. “So I’ve devoted myself to research, trying to discover what makes us the way we are. Perhaps there’s a way to increase the frequency of gifted births among each family. Even among pure lines, some are born without it. If I can only discover...” He trailed off.
Glancing at him, Lily saw his expression had gone cold and distant as he stared at the floor in fierce thought, seeming to have forgotten her presence. She coughed lightly. He looked up and his face transformed abruptly, turning warm and welcoming as if a switch had been flipped. “Forgive the ramblings of an old man,” he said, and stood up. “I am always studying many things, of course, as well as searching for lost documents and artifacts that might give us insight into ancient methods and spells. Our line especially, the LeFays, has quite a history. In the mists of our past lie many secrets that, I am sure, will prove profitable once I uncover them.” His eyes glinted as he said this, and Lily felt a twinge of unease.
“Enough about me,” John Faust declared, extending a hand in invitation. “Tell me of your studies, your strengths and weaknesses. What do you know and what can I teach you?”
Forgetting about her unease, Lily smiled and began describing her areas of study. Her father was both impressed at her skill and disappointed at what he called the “vast gaps of knowledge in your mental library.” She felt the urge to defend Madam Barrington’s teaching methods but was checked by her own resentment. She’d known for years her mentor was holding things back, supposedly for her own good. John Faust held nothing back. He told her everything she wanted to know and answered every question in thorough detail. They worked for hours together, practicing spells and discussing magical theory until somewhere a clock struck four. But the quiet chime was drowned out by a piercing, magnified cry of “Liiilllyyy” echoing through the house.
“Goodness,” John Faust said, “I hadn’t realized how long we’ve been here. You had better submit yourself to your grandmother’s ministrations.” He smiled wryly and she thanked him, hurrying off toward the increasingly hysterical call. As she passed through the door, she felt wards snap shut behind her. Something ominous about the doors on either side of the workroom entrance made her shudder. She quickened her pace, racing down the hall and almost colliding with a construct as it exited the kitchen.
Her grandmother, standing in the grand foyer, turned at the sound. “There you are, Lily!” her voice boomed out, much louder than normal. “Good heavens,” she said, still overloud as she muttered a few words of Enkinim and her voice returned to normal.
“Didn’t you hear me calling?” Ursula asked, speaking rapidly as she stalked over. “It was quite impolite of you to make me scurry all over the four corners of the earth. But never mind, you must be quick. My maid will dress you, but before that you must look at the guest list. You should know who’ll be attending. It won’t do for you to seem the country bumpkin with no connections in high society. Not that you are, of course. But that woman...” she snapped her lips shut into a tight line, then forced a smile on her face. “Never mind all that, dear. Come, let’s get you upstairs.”
Taking Lily’s bicep in a firm grip, she marched up the grand front staircase, Lily in tow. Once in the guest bedroom, Lily was shooed off to the shower. Every minute or so, Ursula’s voice outside the bathroom door urged her on with a, “Hurry up, dear. They’ll be here soon.” She then endured being dressed while Ursula fussed over the clothes, her makeup, and her hair. Everything had to be perfect, the woman declared at regular intervals while her maid and a construct with a female seeming labored over Lily’s appearance. They ignored her protests that she could do it perfectly fine herself.
As she was poked and prodded, Ursula slowly listed off each guest, taking time t
o divulge every juicy detail. Soon her head was whirling and she couldn’t remember a single name, much less who was whose ex or which men broke a million and which ones “weren’t quite there yet, so best not encourage them.” She started getting the uncomfortable feeling that her grandmother expected her to actually speak to the young men she’d invited, as if Lily had romantic interest in privileged, rich prigs. Even if debutante balls were historically used to find suitors, that was an old tradition. Surely her grandmother wasn’t expecting that, was she?
Finally, it was all over, and Lily stood staring at a stranger in the mirror. The dress was brilliant white silk, with a close-fit bodice that hugged her curves. It was embroidered with Swarovski crystal beading in pale golden hues that curled in twists and waves all over her torso and breast. The beading swirled down to blend into the cascades of fabric that swept about her feet. Several petticoats and yards of stiff tulle made her skirt arc gracefully out at the bottom as if she were floating on air. It was a gorgeous dress, but the neckline made her distinctly uncomfortable. The bodice extended up in a V to cup the edges of her shoulders, but it dipped further in the front than she was used to, revealing more cleavage than she actually had thanks to the modern technology of push-up bras. In the back, the V plunged to just past her waistline. The overall effect was much more glamorous and seductive than she had ever been or ever wanted to be. The cool brush of air on all that bare skin made her feel exposed.
The one place she’d put her foot down was when Ursula wanted her to take off her ward bracelet because it didn’t “match” the outfit. Lily calmly cast a glamour on it that made it appear as a fine silver chain with attached charm, and Ursula shut her mouth. The white silk gloves that matched the dress fit snugly under her ward bracelet. Her hair had been done up in enchanting cascades of waving curls, with sparkling pins and clips keeping each hair in place. Their sparkle matched the diamond earrings and necklace Ursula provided. To Lily’s relief, the maid had gone light on the makeup, using more neutral tones with lots of shimmer in an attempt to make Lily appear younger than she was.
Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Revelations Page 18