“Then what’s the point of having all that power?” I asked.
“There’s more to magic than power,” Hazel said. “That’s a lesson you need to learn early on, if you expect to be the best witch you can be.”
“I don’t know what kind of witch I expect to be,” I said. “I’m still coming to terms with the fact that I am one.”
“Focus on the formation of the characters,” Hazel said, tapping the paper again.
I studied the marks in the book. They were all so foreign to me. I may as well have been writing in Chinese.
“So there’s something I don’t get,” I said. “Uri’s a vampire, right? How has he aged from elementary school? Was he turned as a teenager?”
Hazel burst into laughter. “Sticks and wicks, you really don’t know anything, do you?”
“Why would I? This whole thing is new to me.”
“If you’re a turned vampire, then you stop aging from then on, and it’s all the usual blood and immortality. If two vampires love each other very much, and decide to get married and produce fruit…”
“Produce fruit?” I queried. “We’re not talking about groceries, Hazel. I’m a twenty-eight-year-old mother. You can say the word sex. Or fornicate. Or doing the dirty deed. Whatever gets the point across.”
Hazel’s expression grew pinched. “A child of two vampires will also be a vampire, but with slight differences. They do age, albeit slowly. But all the other tricks of the trade apply.”
“How can a vampire produce offspring if they’re undead?” I asked. I was no biology expert, but it seemed to me that if vampires couldn’t breathe, they couldn’t procreate.
“The relevant parts are still in working order,” she said. “Generally speaking.”
I chewed on the end of my pen. “So I could have a vampire baby?”
“You’re not a vampire, dear,” Hazel said.
“But what if I got pregnant by a vampire?” Not that I had a particular exceedingly handsome and well-dressed vampire in mind for dirty deeds.
“Then you would have one heck of an ankle biter,” Hazel quipped.
I pointed my pen at her. “So you do have a sense of humor. I wasn’t sure.”
Hazel ignored my remark. “The offspring of a vampire and a witch can be either-or.”
“Either a vampire or a witch?” Like Linnea’s werewolf kids. “So I could have a vampire daughter and a wizard son?” Plus my existing soon-to-be witch daughter.
“Theoretically,” Hazel said. “Why? Have you met a vampire you fancy?”
“No, no,” I said quickly. “Just thinking about getting laid…I mean, getting the lay of the land.” Heat burned the back of my neck. I was suddenly grateful that Mr. Hale wasn’t within mind-reading distance.
I spent the next hour filling the paper with runes. Hazel was not impressed with my chicken scratch.
“It’s my first attempt,” I argued. “What did you expect? A prodigy?”
“You’re a descendant of the One True Witch,” Hazel said. “Perhaps I did expect a bit more natural ability.”
“For scribbling?” I glanced over my handiwork. It wasn’t so terrible, was it?
“I’ll see you next week,” Hazel said, collecting her Big Book of Scribbles. “Do try to practice between now and then.”
“I’ll see if I can work it into my busy schedule,” I replied.
Prescott Peabody III barked and jumped in front of the door.
“How sweet,” Hazel said. “He’s telling me goodbye.”
“No, he’s telling me it’s time to pick up Marley from school,” I said, and I grabbed his leash. “Let’s go, buddy. We’ll walk Hazel to the gate.”
After dropping Marley and PP3 at the cottage, I headed to the academy to follow up on Hazel’s intel. I spotted the pretty blonde talking to a group of boys. Each one seemed more enamored than the next. Why did the next Maiden need to be a pretty blonde, too? It only served to reinforce a beauty stereotype. I smoothed my own dark hair before approaching the group.
"Hi, are you Ianthe?"
The group turned to look at me.
"Yes," she said. "That's me." Her voice was surprisingly childlike. It reminded me of Marilyn Monroe.
"My name’s Ember and I work for the local newspaper. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?"
Her smile brightened. She probably thought I was here to do a cover story on her. Well, let her think that. She’d be more forthcoming that way.
"Of course," she said. “I’d be happy to answer any questions you have." She faced her group of admirers. "We'll talk later guys, okay?"
I wondered whether her bevy of admirers realized they had no chance of getting into her pants. Certainly not now that she was the new Maiden.
"What's the story about?" Ianthe asked, once we were out of earshot of the others.
"I understand you’re going to be sworn in as the new Maiden soon," I said. I bit the inside of my cheek. Sworn in? She wasn't going to be appointed as a judge. I had no clue what the right terminology was.
"Yes, that's correct," she said. She was as poised as a beauty pageant contestant. “There will be an official coven ceremony to appoint me.”
"I understand you were Fleur Montbatten’s understudy," I said. "What was that like?"
"Fleur and I were great friends," she said. "I've been devastated ever since her death."
Sure. She looked positively depressed while talking to those boys.
“How disappointed were you to be the bridesmaid and not the bride?"
Ianthe cocked her head. "I don't understand. Who was going to be a bride?"
I tried again. "The fact that you would never be the Maiden, just the understudy. Did that bother you? You were essentially the runner-up in a beauty pageant. The name no one remembers."
Her expression grew serious. "The role of Maiden is nothing like being a beauty pageant contestant," she said. "She serves the High Priestess. It's a very important position and nothing to speak lightly of. For a reporter, it doesn’t sound like you've done very much research."
Consider me shamed. "Please feel free to educate me. I'm new to this whole scene, so forgive me if I'm not as knowledgeable as I should be."
The mea culpa seemed to win her over.
“If the Mother is the soul of the coven, and the Crone is the mind, then think of the Maiden as the heart. Nothing survives without a heart.”
“I see. While we’re on the subject of hearts, do you have a boyfriend?”
Ianthe balked. “Certainly not. The minute I knew I’d be the Maiden’s understudy, I pledged a vow to remain chaste. It’s much easier to keep the vow when you don’t tempt fate.”
“You certainly had a lot of male admirers when I got here,” I said. “Do they know you’re off the market?”
“Yes, of course,” she said firmly. “I want to be the Maiden.”
Exactly, but how badly? Enough to kill?
“You don’t mind forgoing…the, um, pleasures of the flesh?” Pleasures of the flesh? Did I seriously just say that? Kill me now.
“It isn’t forever,” Ianthe said. “Once I age out of the role, I’ll either take over as High Priestess or be free to turn in my circlet.”
“Age out?” Suddenly she sounded like a Hollywood actress.
Ianthe nodded. “The celibacy doesn’t last forever.” Her expression grew somber. “Though I may miss out on my childbearing years, depending on the timeline.”
Ouch. “So you might be the Maiden into your forties?”
“So much depends on the High Priestess,” Ianthe said. “Whether she wants to retire, step down, take on a new role…It won’t be up to me.”
It sounded far too political for my taste.
“When’s the last time you saw Fleur?” I asked.
“The day before she died,” Ianthe replied. “We had lunch in town. We made plans to work on spells together in the evening, but she never showed.”
“Where were you supposed to meet?”
/> “The academy library. It’s open in the evenings for students, but very few take advantage of the late hours.”
“Did you tell anyone that she didn’t show?”
“No. I texted her, but she didn’t respond.” She shrugged. “It wasn’t unusual for her to bail on me. I assumed she decided to hang out with Uri instead. They spent a lot of time together.”
“Were you practicing spells for a reason?”
“She had a quiz. She relied on me for help.”
Like she relied on Garland for help in herbology. Interesting.
“But you’re not even in the same school,” I said.
“It doesn’t matter,” Ianthe replied. “As her understudy, it was my job to support her and I did it gladly. The spells are the same and I do more advanced spellcasting at the academy.”
“If she needed your help for the quiz, why would she spend the time with Uri instead? Didn’t she worry about her grades?”
Ianthe gave me a soft smile. “She didn’t. Fleur always found a way to shine. She could fall in a mud puddle and emerge smelling like a rose garden. She was blessed.”
“Some people are just like that,” I said. I’d known a few in my lifetime. It was easy to resent that sort of luck. Although it would be easy to assume Ianthe resented it, too, I wasn’t seeing any sign of it.
“If you need any pictures of Fleur for the article, I have plenty,” Ianthe said. “We spent so much time together, I could paper my walls with them.” Her gaze drifted to the ground. “She will be missed.”
“I’m sorry for your loss,” I said, and realized that I meant it. “I’ll let you know about the pictures.”
Chapter Fourteen
"Now Mom, you’re going to have to be on your best behavior," Marley warned me, as we stood in front of Aster’s picture-perfect house. It was Aster’s turn to host us for dinner and Marley was excited to meet her younger cousins.
I gave her a quick look. "Aren't I supposed to be saying that to you?"
Marley shrugged. "Probably. But we both know who the troublemaker is in this duo."
She wasn't wrong. I rang the doorbell and waited.
The front door open and Aster greeted us with a pearly white smile. "Come on in. We’re so pleased you could make it.”
It was like walking straight into the pages of a Pottery Barn catalog. The woman even had white sofas. White sofas with two little boys? What was she thinking?
Traditional was the best word to describe the interior. A place for everything and everything in its place. Linnea wasn't kidding about Aster doing everything right. Her home certainly reflected that sentiment.
"Sterling and the boys are just upstairs. They’ll be down any minute."
I noticed that she didn't yell up to them the way Linnea or I might have done. She simply waited patiently.
"May I offer you anything to drink? I have juniper juleps for the grown-ups." She beamed at Marley. “And mickleberry fizzes for the children.”
"What's a mickleberry fizz?” Marley asked, scrunching her nose.
Aster’s eyes grew round. "You’ve never had a mickleberry fizz? Marley Rose, you are in for a real treat. Follow me into the kitchen and I'll whip one up for you."
"I wouldn't object to a juniper julep," I said. Although I’d never had one, it sounded delightful.
Once they left the room, I felt free to explore. There were photographs everywhere. Frames on the walls. Frames on the sideboard. Bright, happy faces smiled back at me from within each and every frame. One photograph was of the twins’ footprints from the day they were born. Tiny.
I glanced up at the sound of approaching footsteps.
"You must be the famous missing cousin," Sterling said. He gave me a welcoming smile and took my hand. "I'm Sterling Rose-Stanton, Aster's husband. I'm sorry I missed your induction ceremony. I had to work late."
Sterling looked like he could be related to Aster. An attractive man with similar coloring, he had a decent build, but the kind that came from a gym rather than physical labor. He was flanked by two little boys with the signature white-blond hair of the Roses. "This one here on the left is Ackley, and this one here on the right is Aspen."
I crouched down to greet them. "Hi, boys. I’m your cousin, Ember. My daughter, Marley, has just gone into the kitchen with your mom to get a mickleberry fizz.”
The little boys were dressed adorably in small linen suits with bowties. Instead of trousers, they wore shorts and argyle knee socks. It was, quite frankly, the cutest thing I’d ever seen on a kid.
"It's very nice to meet you, Ember," Ackley said.
"Likewise," Aspen added.
And I thought Marley was polite and well behaved. Aster was a marvel of a mother.
Ackley gazed up at his father with his bright blue eyes. "Daddy, would it be all right if I had a mickleberry fizz?”
Sterling ruffled his hair. "Go ask your mom. I'm sure if Marley is having one, then the invitation extends to you."
Both boys walked off toward the kitchen. That’s right—walked. No running. And they didn’t even drag their feet in that annoying way some kids did. What sorcery was this?
I stared at Sterling in amazement. "Are you drugging those children?"
Sterling gave me a beguiling look. "Aster has them trained. She's got me trained, too, as a matter of fact. The woman is a wonder."
I was inclined to agree. "Your home is gorgeous. Thornhold is nice and all, but this place manages to be both beautiful and comfortable at the same time. I don't feel like I have to sit up straight in here."
Sterling laughed. "I know what you mean. It’s all down to my amazing wife. I just show up.”
Aster emerged from the kitchen with a tray of drinks and set them on the coffee table.
"No magic?" I queried. Why carry a tray when magic could do it for you?
"We try to keep things as normal as possible here," Aster explained.
"Why?" I asked. "You live in Starry Hollow. It's not like you're trying to blend in with humans.”
"We discussed this before the children were born. We don't know what the boys will choose in life at this point," Aster said. "If they don't want to stay in a place like Starry Hollow, I need them to learn how the human world works. How to live without magic. Since they won't come into their magic for another seven years, it seems like the perfect time to train them."
Talk about forward thinking. I had to hand it to Aster. Those kids will be prepared for life.
“So I have an awkward question," I began.
Marley groaned. "Mom, if you already know it's awkward, then why are you asking?"
"Not to worry, Marley," Aster said. "We’re family. Your mother should feel free to ask any question she likes."
Marley's eyes widened to the size of walnuts. "You are treading on dangerous ground with that statement."
I plowed ahead. “I keep hearing people refer to you as Aster Rose-Muldoon, but Sterling and the boys are Rose-Stanton. What's up with that?"
Sterling plucked a drink from the tray and took a sip. "It's typical in this coven for the witch’s name to carry on down the bloodline, especially descendants of the One True Witch. I was Sterling Stanton-Craig growing up, but once I married Aster, I dropped my father's name and combined my mother’s with Rose."
"That's so cool," Marley said. "It's kind of like what you did, Mom. You kept your maiden name."
"That's just because I was too lazy to change anything," I said.
Marley swallowed her mickleberry fizz in two minutes flat. I’d never seen her drink anything so quickly outside of chocolate milk.
"How do you like your juniper julep?" Aster asked.
"It's surprisingly refreshing," I said.
"They really are," she replied, appearing pleased. "Many families in Starry Hollow prefer magical drinks, but for me, a traditional juniper julep is magical all on its own."
My curiosity was piqued. "What do you mean by magical drinks?"
"Like the ones you had at Linn
ea’s,” Marley said. “Moonglow.”
"Oh. Those were magical drinks? I just thought they were normal drinks with funny names like Sex on the Beach or Rusty Nail."
Marley shook her head. "Oh, Mom."
"Seriously, though,” I continued. “What makes them magical? I didn't feel anything weird after I drank it."
"It depends on the drink," Sterling explained. "In general, magical cocktails are made from fruits and other ingredients that aren’t available in the human world. Burstberries, mickleberries, and fizzlewicks. Things like that."
“So mickleberry fizz is magical?” Marley asked, staring into her empty glass.
“There won’t be a magical effect,” Aster said, “but yes.”
"Mom, may we please have a snack?" Aspen asked. Or maybe it was Ackley. It would take me more than one visit to tell them apart.
"Aspen, you are my bottomless pit," Aster said.
Okay, so Aspen wore the blue bowtie and Ackley wore the red one. Noted.
"As it happens, I have hors d'oeuvres ready in the kitchen,” Aster said.
Of course she did. Magical Martha Stewart wouldn't make a hosting faux pas like no hors d'oeuvres. Me, on the other hand, would serve hors d’oeuvres as the main course. Who doesn’t love mini hotdogs?
"Can I help you bring out the platters, Mom?” Ackley asked.
"Of course you can, my sweet," Aster said. She held out her hand and he took it. "Come then, let's bring the food out for everyone to enjoy."
I had to admit, I was starting to feel a bit nauseous in the middle of all this sweetness and light. Aunt Hyacinth was put-together like Aster, but less filtered. That probably came with age, though, unless you were from New Jersey. In Aster's house, there was too much perfection. I hated to say it, but it was starting to grate on my nerves. I was desperate for one of the boys to make a fart joke.
Aster and her progeny reappeared with a platter of food.
"Oh, I love these," Marley said, picking up what appeared to be a mini burger.
I gave her a sharp look. "Where have you ever had these before?" Certainly not in my apartment. The only culinary skills happening in there were on the television screen during a cooking show.
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