“How about spaghetti Bolognese?” I asked.
"But you hate the way I eat spaghetti," Marley protested.
It was true. Marley did not have a knack for eating spaghetti on a fork. The thin strands of pasta constantly slid through the gaps in the fork and, no matter how many times I showed Marley how to wrap it, she simply couldn't master the skill. On the one hand, it was nice to see her fail. Things always came so easily to her. I felt that it was character-building that she had to work harder to achieve this.
“I’ll make an exception,” I said.
She cast a suspicious look at me. “Why?”
I struggled for a response. Because a maniac tried to kill me and leave you an orphan? No, I couldn’t tell Marley the truth. Hilda and I had agreed that Jimmy wouldn’t be able to trace me back here. There was no reason to act like anything was wrong. Marley already suffered separation anxiety. I wasn’t about to make it worse.
“Because you got an A on your math quiz,” I finally said.
“How did you know?” she asked. “I hadn’t told you yet.”
I tousled her hair. “Because you always get A’s on your quizzes. Why should today be any different?”
"Sounds good to me," Marley said. "Do we have any garlic bread?"
"I'll check the freezer." A quick peek revealed no garlic bread. "Sorry, honey. Maybe next time." To her credit, she was unfazed.
"Can I have chocolate milk tonight?"
"Sure." I tried not to sweat the small stuff. An occasional chocolate milk wasn't going to kill her. She was skinny as a rail with relatively good eating habits. She ate broccoli like it was the last stalk on earth. It took me into adulthood to like broccoli. She was already light years ahead of me—in so many ways.
"Can you feed the dog while I get started on this?” I asked.
Marley rushed to complete the task. She was more goal-oriented than any ten-year-old had a right to be. Then again, I hoped that it saved her from a life like mine. If Marley grew up to be a repo agent, I will definitely have failed as a parent.
I filled a pot with water and turned on the stove while Marley fed the dog. This was my favorite part of the day, where Marley shared all the gossip from school. I knew which kids were troublemakers and which kids were being bullied. Because Marley was the polar opposite of me—quiet and well behaved—she was able to observe others without anyone noticing her. Occasionally, she would report her findings to the teacher if she felt that it was a serious matter, but mostly she liked to report to me.
Over dinner, she asked me about my day. Sometimes I gave her the details, but today was not one of those days.
"It was a very cool car," I said. "A Maserati."
She whistled. "Fancy. Was it a divorce?"
"Don't think so." Just a mobster who was feeling entitled.
"Did he yell at you?"
"A little bit." Or a lot.
"I'm sorry," Marley said, and my heart nearly split in two.
"Sweetheart, you don't have to be sorry. You didn't do anything."
"But if you didn't have to take care of me, then you wouldn’t need to take these horrible jobs. You could get your degree and get a better job."
I set down my fork and stared at her. "Marley Rose, I don't ever want to hear talk like that again. Do you understand? You are worth all the degrees in existence. I would sacrifice anything to take care of you. In fact, forget I said that. It's not even a sacrifice. It’s an honor. Got it?"
Marley blinked her big blue eyes. She understood.
"This is good chocolate milk," she said. "Did you put an extra squirt in it?"
I shrugged. "I may have. A good chef never reveals her secrets."
"I think that's a magician," Marley said.
"Know-it-all."
After dinner, I cleaned up the kitchen while Marley showered. She preferred that I stand outside the bathroom door while she showered in case she fell and got hurt, but I’d been working on getting her out of the habit. I didn't want her to worry about routine tasks. Sleeping and showering should not involve a ten-year-old's mother. Although I knew this on an intellectual level, when she leveled that sweet, desperate gaze at me, it was tough to resist.
I changed into pajamas and snuggled beside her in bed for reading time. It was part of our bedtime ritual. Ever since she was old enough to read on her own, we read side by side until it was time for lights out. A Kindle was a blessing for me because I could continue to read with the lit screen while Marley went to sleep.
I noticed a different book cover in her hands. "You finished the last book already?"
She nodded. "I finished at school today during lunch."
“The library is going to run out of books for you,” I said.
“That’s why digital books are so great.”
PP3 began to bark and shot off the bed like a hairy bullet. I chased after him, calling his name.
“No bark,” I said firmly. “Mr. Peterson will be down here in a heartbeat to complain.”
The dog ignored me, standing in front of the apartment door and barking loudly. A pounding of fists on the other side of the door made me jump.
“I hear you in there, Ember Rose. Why don’t you open the door and let me in, you little pig?”
My heart lodged in my throat at the sound of his voice.
“Not by the hair of my chin-chin-chin,” I replied, with as much bravado as I could manage. I ran to the counter and unplugged my cell phone. “I’m calling the police right now.”
“Mom?” Marley called from the bedroom. “Who are you talking to?”
“Stay in your room,” I commanded.
Prescott Peabody III continued to run back and forth in front of the door, barking like the attack dog he wasn’t.
“I’ll huff and I’ll puff,” Jimmy said through the door. “On second thought, it might be easier if you huff and puff.”
What did that mean? “Sorry, Jimmy. I’m not a smoker. As it happens, I’m in pretty decent shape.”
Marley appeared in the doorway of her bedroom. “What’s going on?”
I whipped toward her. “I said go to your room and lock the door.”
She shook her head, an expression of pure terror on her face. “Not without you and PP3.”
What had I done? I’d brought this criminal element to our home to threaten us. If I lived until tomorrow, I promised myself I’d get another job.
I dialed the number for emergency services.
“9-1-1. What’s your emergency?”
I didn’t get to answer. The door came flying off the hinges and nearly struck me. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed the nearest knife. Unfortunately for me, it was a butter knife.
“Nice hovel you got here,” Jimmy said, surveying the room.
The dog lunged at him, growling and biting his pant leg. Jimmy laughed and shook him off with minimal effort.
“PP3, come,” Marley called from the bedroom. To my relief, the dog obeyed.
“I’ve called the police,” I said, and wielded the butter knife like a saber.
“You called, but you didn’t finish,” he said. “I have ears, you know.” He pulled a small silver item from his pocket. “And a lighter, as it happens.” He bit his bottom lip, pretending to think. “How long until the fire trucks get here, do you think? Would the whole building burn or just your place?”
He flicked the lid open and smiled.
“The other people in this building are innocent,” I said. “My daughter is innocent. Hell, my dog is innocent.”
“No one is innocent,” he said. “Not in the world we live in.”
A tiny flame appeared and he tossed the lighter onto the shaggy green carpet.
“You don’t have to do this,” I said.
“I know I don’t have to,” he replied, “but it’s fun.” He winked. “Have fun huffing and puffing, little pig.”
I started to run toward the bedrooms, but he was too fast. He grabbed my leg and I stumbled to the floor. I inhaled the sm
oke wafting from the burning carpet and began to cough.
“You need to go or you’re going to burn, too,” I said. Not that I minded.
“You forget I have experience with this,” he replied. “I know how much time I have.” His nails pierced my skin and I screamed.
“Release her,” a voice commanded.
The police were here? But how?
“Make me,” Jimmy said gruffly.
An unseen hand sent him flying through the air and he slammed into the sofa, tipping it backward. The flames had multiplied since my last glance and I realized that I was sweating.
“Famem,” another voice said, and the flames disappeared as quickly as they’d developed.
Three strangers stood in my shoebox apartment—two women and a man—each taller and more beautiful than the next. With their white-blond hair and pale skin, they reminded me of Targaryens from Game of Thrones.
On the other side of the room, Jimmy groaned and managed to get back on his feet.
“Is this person threatening to harm you?” the man asked.
“Gee, what gave you that impression?” I replied.
Jimmy stared at the trio. “Which one of you threw me across the room?” His eyes narrowed at the sight of the man. “It must’ve been you.”
“Well, that’s rather sexist of you,” the female on the left said. “Actually, it was me.”
“Nice try, sweetie.” Jimmy reached for the lighter in his pocket.
“I don’t think so,” the other female said, and snapped her fingers. The lighter broke into pieces and fell onto the floor.
“What the hell?” Jimmy stared at his hand, trying to grasp what just happened.
“Who are you?” I asked. Aliens were the answer that sprang to mind. They were aliens who’d come to collect their earthly human specimens.
“All in good time,” the man said. “First, we must deal with the problem.” He waved a hand in the shape of an ’s’ and Jimmy froze in place.
The taller of the two women approached him and pressed her hands against the side of his head. “Obliviscatur.”
She released his head and he blinked. “Where am I?”
“You went out for a pack of cigarettes,” the woman said.
“I went out for a pack of cigarettes,” he repeated.
“And you were never here,” she added.
“I was never here.” He crossed the room and exited via the broken door. Once he left, the shorter woman waved a hand and the door snapped back into place as though nothing had happened.
“How are you doing that?” I asked in disbelief.
“Simple,” the woman said. “I’m a witch.”
Chapter Three
“I’m sorry,” I said. “Did you just say you’re a witch?”
She swept her white-blond hair out of her eyes. “That is correct.”
“Mom, who are these people?” Marley stood a safe distance away, holding PP3 tightly.
“Yarrow, you need to come with us," the male Targaryen said to me.
"I don't know what a Yarrow is, but my name is Ember and I’m not going anywhere with you.”
The trio exchanged confused glances.
"You are Yarrow Rose,” the man said. “Daughter of Lily Hawthorne-Rose and Nathaniel Rose.”
Now it was my turn to be confused. “Those were my parents, but like I said, my name is Ember."
"And who is this?" the older female asked, pointing to Marley. "A half-sister, perhaps?"
"She wishes," Marley exclaimed. Oh, my daughter thought that was just hilarious. If I lived through this night, I would never live it down.
"This is my daughter," I said. I wasn't about to tell them her name. "Thank you ever so much for taking care of the pyromaniac killer in my apartment, but who are you and why are you here?"
"My name is Aster Rose-Muldoon," the younger blonde said. "This is my sister, Linnea, and my brother, Florian."
"Rose?" I echoed. "You’re related to my father?"
"Our mother, Hyacinth, is your father's sister," Aster said.
I’d never heard of an Aunt Hyacinth. Then again, my father never spoke of any family apart from my mother. It never occurred to me that he was hiding something.
"So why are you here now? I’m twenty-eight years old and I've never heard of any of you."
"Your father kept you shrouded in secrecy," Linnea said. "He didn’t want us to find you."
"Well, my father was a smart man," I said. "If he didn't want you to find me, then he must've had a pretty good reason."
“Petty squabbles,” Linnea said. “Water under the troll’s bridge.”
I thought about everything I’d just witnessed. “So can you all do magic?”
Aster nodded. “And so can you. You're a witch, Ember. As was your mother."
"And your father was a wizard," Florian added. "Like me."
I stared at them, my mouth hanging open. "If you were an enormous Scottish guy called Hagrid, this moment might be more believable."
“You used magic earlier today, didn’t you?” Linnea asked. "That’s how we were able to pinpoint your location."
“We believe your father used a suppression spell to keep your magic from manifesting and a cloaking spell to shield you from those of us in Starry Hollow who wished to find you,” Aster added.
"That was magic?" I whispered. It had certainly seemed like magic at the time, but how?
"We come into our magic around age eleven,” Aster said. "Your father likely performed a spell that kept your abilities under wraps. He knew that if you used magic, then we'd be able to track you."
"Mom, I'm going to be eleven next year," Marley whispered. "Will I have magic, too?”
Aster smiled at her. “There’s a good chance you will, young one. I have two children. Little boys. They will be so excited to meet you."
I wrapped my arms protectively around Marley. "I don't know about a family reunion. I appreciate you saving us, but I have to trust my father's instincts. If he didn't want you to find us, then he had a reason."
"He did," Linnea said. "But it’s not what you might think. Come with us and our mother will explain all."
"It isn't safe here for you any longer," Florian said. "That man is a mobster, isn’t he? I’ve seen enough movies with the human mafia. We erased his memory of this evening’s events, but not of you entirely. I doubt he will rest until he exacts his revenge."
"If you stay here, you’re both as good as dead," Linnea said.
Marley clung to me, and I felt her small fingers dig into my back. “We should go with them, Mom.”
I kissed the side of her head. "Where would we go?" I asked.
"The town is called Starry Hollow. It's on the coast of North Carolina." Aster fixed her attention on Marley. "There are lovely schools and lots of magical children to play with. You will both be very happy there, I promise."
“No one can promise happiness,” I said.
Aster bit her lip. “Happier than you are here? Will that do?”
I didn't know what to do. Three strangers with crazy powers were standing in my apartment telling me that my life was in danger and that I was a witch. Despite the insanity of the moment, the voice inside me urged me to listen. I had to trust that voice. It was one that had saved my life on many occasions.
"Do you have any money?" I asked. "I don't want to stiff my landlord for the rest of the lease. He's an old man and it's his only source of income."
Florian frowned. "Money is not a problem." He snapped his fingers and a check appeared in his hand. "Say the amount and it will appear here."
"But will the money appear in my bank account?" That seemed to be the pertinent issue.
Florian nodded. "You can trust us, Ember. We’re your family."
"Trust is earned," I said firmly. "Family or not."
Linnea broke into a broad smile that brightened her beautiful face. The Rose-Muldoons certainly seemed to get the lion’s share of the attractive genes. "You will not regret thi
s choice, Yarrow Rose.”
I pressed my fingers to my temples. "Listen. I go on two conditions. One is that you stop calling me Yarrow. My name is Ember. Two is that my dog comes, too. He's nine and we can't leave him behind."
Three white-blond heads turned toward the dog sitting in the doorway. I had to admit that he looked pathetic with his overgrown brown hair and deep, sad eyes. But Prescott Peabody III was ours and I refused to leave him.
"I am sure your new home can accommodate a small dog," Aster said. She extended her hand. "Come now, before the man returns."
"How do we get there?" I asked. "Do we fly on broomsticks or something?" I couldn't believe the words coming out of my mouth. Did I seriously just ask about riding on a broomstick?
"We use magic," Florian said. "Like a magical wormhole. The spell transports us from one place to another."
"A magical wormhole,” I repeated.
"That sounds cool," Marley said. For once, she didn't sound scared.
I glanced down at my fuzzy pajamas. "What about our clothes? Our belongings?"
"We can take anything that you can't live without," Linnea said. She surveyed the nondescript bedroom. "But I suspect there aren't too many items that fall under that description."
She was right. There really weren't.
"Join hands," Linnea instructed. "As long as you keep hold of the dog inside the circle, he will be transported with us."
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