“He’s such a smart man—and he’s well off too. Not as much as us, but he’s quite comfortable,” Aggie assures me.
He proposed to her just two days earlier. He did it the proper way, by kneeling down in this living room and offering her a ring. She fishes the ring out of a pocket so I can see it. The gold band with its pea-sized chunk of diamond must have cost a tidy sum. “Isn’t it beautiful?” she asks me.
“It’s nice.” I clear my throat and then ask, “When is the wedding?”
“Next June. We’ll have it here, at the cathedral where we met.”
“You’re going Catholic now?”
“I have to. Alejandro is a very spiritual man.”
I can’t help snorting at this. “He’d probably burn you at the stake if he saw your potions.”
“Alejandro loves me. I don’t care about anything else.”
“But you’re not going to give up your powers?”
“I will if I have to.”
I feel a pain in my midsection as if she’s punched me. If Aggie gives up her powers, then it will be just a few decades before she grows old the natural way and then dies. I’ll be truly alone then, everyone else I care about nothing more than dust. “Agnes—”
“Don’t worry about that. We’ll figure it out later.”
“If Glenda doesn’t put you on trial first.”
“Why should she? Mama was married to a mortal and she didn’t give up her powers.”
I consider telling Aggie the truth I’ve kept hidden for the last century, but I doubt she could accept it, not right now—probably never. “I suppose you’re right.” I try to smile at her, to show her my support for her choices—however bad they might be. “Where are you two going to live? Here or in Italy?”
“Here. Alejandro is going to sell his vineyard to a cousin. I hope that’s all right with you. I thought since you haven’t been here in so long—”
“No, that’s fine.”
Aggie nods and then her smile fades. She nervously sips from her cup of tea. “There’s something else I need to tell you. Try not to be too angry with me.”
“What is it?”
“Well, I had to tell him a tiny little lie.”
“That you’re not a witch, I know that already.”
“No, a lie about you.”
“Me? What did you say about me?”
Aggie looks down at her feet, her cheeks turning red as if she’s about to cry. “I was showing him around the house and he saw that portrait Mama had made of us—you know the one over the mantle?”
“I know.”
“Well, I told him that was painted when I was twelve and Sophie was nine and you were three. Alejandro is a very smart man, as I said before. He did the math in his head—”
I lean forward, my hands curling into fists. “Agnes, how old did you tell him I am?”
“He thinks I’m twenty-one now, so—”
I can do the math in my head too. Twelve. She told him I’m twelve years old. I want to slap her across the face and then choke the life out of her for her stupidity. Instead, I barely keep my calm. “You’ll just have to tell him I died in some terrible accident.”
“Then who will I say you are?”
“I don’t know. Say I’m your aunt or something like that.”
“But he’s really excited to meet you. He thinks you’ve been at finishing school.”
“Then we’ll say I died in a carriage accident on the way home.”
Aggie bursts into tears. “You don’t understand,” she says. She sobs for a minute before gaining enough composure to say, “His sister was twelve when she died. That’s why he’s so excited to meet you. It would make him so happy to have a little girl the same age around the house.”
“Agnes—”
“I know it’s a terrible sacrifice and I’m very sorry to ask you. But it won’t be that terrible. It won’t be like Morgana. You won’t be a baby.” She takes my hand, looking into my eyes. “Please, Sylvia. Do it for him—for both of us.”
I want to turn her down and vanish right out of the house, but I can see how much it means to her to make Alejandro happy. With a sigh, I say, “All right. I’ll do it.”
Chapter 20
It takes Aggie three days to brew an Inner Child potion like the one used on Morgana. In this case she has to make sure it’s weak enough that it won’t turn me into a baby again. I can’t use a spell to make myself that young, younger than when I first gained my powers. There’s a chance I could make myself fourteen and Alejandro wouldn’t notice, but Aggie insists on making this perfect.
While Aggie works, I vanish back to Edinburgh to tidy up things there. If Aggie’s potion is successful, then I won’t be able to resume my life—such as it was—for nearly a decade. I pay someone to board up the windows while I pack up my clothes, papers, and my few knickknacks. All of this I take up to the attic, where it can wait for me until I’m an adult again.
I let out a startled scream when Glenda appears in the attic. The expression on her face tells me she’s none too pleased. “Finally letting yourself go?” she asks nastily.
“I could still take you if we weren’t using magic.”
Glenda only shrugs at this. “Perhaps.” She sits down on Uncle Bob’s old stool I brought up here after his death. I grimace at this, but decide not to say anything. “I want to know exactly what you and Agnes are up to.”
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Don’t lie to me, child. I’ve already popped in on Agnes. I saw what she’s done to herself. And I see what you’re doing here. Are you finally going back home?”
“Yes.”
“I thought as much. Care to tell me why Agnes made herself so young again?”
“You saw her, so why don’t you tell me?”
“She said she was tired of feeling so old. I know that’s bullshit. Tell me what she’s doing and it’ll go easier for both of you.”
“Is that a threat?”
“I don’t need to make threats.” On cue I feel a pain in my right arm to remind me of the last time I tried to stand against Glenda. No, she doesn’t need to make threats.
“She’s having another one of her flings. You know Agnes.”
Glenda snorts at this. “This isn’t just a fling. I’ve seen that look in her eyes before—in a certain novice’s eyes long ago.”
“It’s nothing. She’s just feeling her age, getting carried away.”
“What about you? What’s your part in this?”
“I’m just going home to stay with her. Someone needs to look after her.”
Glenda’s voice turns softer, more like the grandmother she appears to be, as she says, “Sylvia, if Agnes is in trouble I want to help. But I can’t help if you lie to me.”
“We don’t need your help. This has nothing to do with the coven. It’s just between the two of us.”
“Everything you do has to do with the coven. I thought you’d have realized that by now. I don’t want another Morgana on my hands—or another Sophie.”
“Agnes isn’t plotting against you. She worships you.”
Glenda lets out a sigh and for a moment looks her true age. “I wish you two wouldn’t be so difficult. I’m too old to play nursemaid to two headstrong witches.”
“That was Mama’s job, wasn’t it?”
“Yes. She was supposed to teach you right from wrong and to have proper respect for authority. I guess she failed.”
“So what are you going to do now: drag us into the archives for a trial?”
“Not yet. Consider this a warning. If you do anything to jeopardize the coven, I will have no choice but to punish both of you.”
“I’ll pass that on.”
Glenda sighs again. “I need a drink. What about you?”
“I’m fine.”
“Then I’ll see you later.” Glenda vanishes from the attic and I’m alone again. Later I do go out to get a drink, sitting at my reserved table for probably the last time. Even onc
e I become an adult again I might not come back here to Edinburgh except to get my belongings.
As I gulp down one glass of whiskey after another, I try to tell myself that this is an opportunity. I have a second chance—or a third chance really—to start a new life. This time I can make better choices. Maybe I can find a way to be happy this time. I try to tell myself this and yet I still don’t believe it.
Having finished closing up shop in Scotland, I return home. Aggie gives me another hug to welcome me. Then she reaches into a pocket to fish out a pink vial like the one Glenda forced Morgana to drink from. “It’s all ready—I hope.”
“You hope?”
“I tried some of it on a chicken. It seemed to work.”
“Great, but I’m not a chicken.”
“I know, but I couldn’t very well abduct some poor mortal woman and force her to drink it, could I?”
“There are probably a few old dowagers who wouldn’t mind being twelve again.”
“Sylvia—”
“I know.” I take the vial from her. “You owe me for this.”
I pop off the cap and then pour the contents down my throat. It tastes sweet, like tea with about six sugars added. It’s fizzy as well, the bubbles dancing on my tongue for a moment before I swallow. I make sure to drink the whole thing so I won’t throw off Aggie’s precise calculations.
Nothing happens at first. I open my mouth to say something, but all that comes out is a loud belch. At the same time, the room swells around me. Aggie seems to shoot up about a foot, so I have to look up to meet her eyes. I hold up my arms, flapping the dangling sleeves. “It worked,” I say, my voice sounding higher and softer.
“Yes, it did,” Aggie says. “It worked perfectly.”
She holds up a mirror so I can see my face. My face is smoother than hers, and paler as well. My chubby cheeks turn magenta as I blush at seeing myself as a child again. I manage to get one hand out of my dress, the fingers shorter and pudgier now. I use these to touch my hair, which is more of a copper red, not having fully darkened yet. Looking closely, there are even a few freckles along my nose that I had forgotten about.
My eyes remain the same. Despite the softness and innocence of the rest of my body, my eyes are still the hard, cold eyes of a grown woman. These eyes sparkle with tears as it begins to sink in exactly what I’ve done to myself. I’m just a little girl now, a little mortal girl.
Aggie pats my back and kneels down to look me in the eye. “It won’t be so bad,” she says. “It will just be for a few years, until you get your powers back. Then you can make yourself as old as you want.”
“I know.”
She gives me a hug that feels strange, more like the hugs Mama used to give me. “I can never repay you for this,” Aggie whispers into my ear.
***
Alejandro’s first visit since my transformation will be for Christmas. We never observed this holiday before, but Aggie insists we have to this year for Alejandro. “It will give you two a chance to meet each other,” she says. She pinches my cheek, which annoyed me the first time I was a child. “I know you’re going to get along famously.”
I doubt this, but I don’t want to spoil Aggie’s happiness. I keep telling myself to try and make the best of this situation, this chance to start over fresh. The only question that continues to haunt me is what I can do differently this time around. Unless my powers don’t come back—which seems unlikely since Morgana’s did after she went through this—I’ll still be a witch in the coven. I could try to learn a new discipline, but I doubt that would work. Maybe I could find another business to involve myself in, one that would make me happy. Yet I’m not sure what that would be.
For the most part it’s not too difficult of an adjustment to go from middle-age to puberty. The biggest adjustment is getting used to not being as tall as I was, so I have to stand on my toes in order to reach the back of the counters in the kitchen and stand on a chair to reach the highest shelves. The stairs are where I have to really be careful the first few days, making sure to watch my feet so I don’t miss a step and fall.
This second childhood would be far more bearable if not for Aggie. She insists on treating me as if I’m a child in mind as well as body. She’s always pinching my cheeks and tousling my hair. She insists on tucking me in at night and kissing me on the forehead.
She also makes me a whole new wardrobe of dresses. All of these have the lace and ruffles I despised when I was growing up. She even makes bows to match, which she forces me to wear in my hair. When I come down in these dresses with the bow in my hair, she always pinches my cheek and says, “You look so pretty!”
I try to tell myself that this is Aggie’s misguided way to make me feel better about myself. The other explanation is that she sees me as a real life doll for her to play with. I don’t think Aggie would revel in my torment like that, but then maybe this is all an elaborate way to punish me for deserting her all those years after Sophie died.
For Christmas she gives me another adorable dress. This one is made of velvet, the same shade of red as my hair will eventually darken to. The dress is of course trimmed with lace and comes with a bow so I look more like nine or ten years old than twelve. She pinches my cheek and then runs a hand along the hair reaching to my waist. “You’re so adorable,” she says. “Alejandro is sure to like you.”
“I hope so,” I grumble, feeling like a petulant child. I want to tear the bow out of my hair and put on a normal peasant dress, but I can’t. This is Aggie’s big moment, when the two people she loves most will meet each other.
She has the oldest Devereaux woman working as a combination of a maid and butler while she entertains Alejandro. Mrs. Devereaux opens the door at precisely two o’clock to reveal Alejandro standing in the doorway. He’s dressed in a black suit with a top hat in his hand. Aggie forgets any sense of decorum and runs into his arms. He manages to pass the hat to Mrs. Devereaux before taking Aggie in his arms.
Alejandro is proper enough that he only kisses Aggie on the cheek. They share a brief embrace, before Aggie turns him to face me. “Alejandro, this is my sister Sylvia. She’s just come back from finishing school for the holidays.”
Time seems to stop around us as Alejandro takes my hand and kisses it as if I’m royalty. “You are every bit as beautiful as your sister said,” he says to me.
I hadn’t really believed Aggie when she said how wonderful Alejandro is, but now I can see she wasn’t exaggerating. He really is as handsome as she said, his body lean yet muscular beneath the suit. His eyes are filled with tenderness as he looks at me and his smile so bright that I can feel my heart ready to burst. Now I know why Aggie loves him.
Then he stands up and takes Aggie’s hand. She leads him into the living room to see our first Christmas tree. I’m left standing there in the foyer, my heart racing and cheeks burning with heat. I continue to stand there until Aggie calls out, “Sylvia? Come show Mr. Chiostro the decorations you made.”
With unsteady legs, I force myself to go in there and face him again.
***
Most children can’t sleep on Christmas Eve. I’m not thinking about the gifts I’ll get the next day. Instead, my thoughts are of Alejandro. Whenever I close my eyes, I see him smiling at me. I’ve felt this way only once before—with Henri.
It doesn’t help when I tell myself that Alejandro is marrying my sister and that he thinks I’m only a little girl. I still keep seeing that smile and imagine that I’m the one he’s going to marry, that I’m the one he’ll kiss on the lips. I grab a pillow, hugging it close to my body and imagine that it’s Alejandro, that we’re lying in bed together.
Aggie opens the door at dawn. I still haven’t slept at all, so I look terrible that morning as Aggie gets me ready for my first Mass. I wear the dark red dress again complete with the bow in my hair. I frown at my childish reflection, wishing I could look like a grown up again for Alejandro. “Is Alejandro coming with us?”
“Of course he is, dear.”
We take the carriage, the roads still clear and firm enough to use it. Aggie and I sit on one side with Alejandro across from us. His eyes focus on Aggie, but I’m close enough that I can imagine he’s really looking at me. He does turn to me during the trip and paralyzes me with another smile. “So when are you heading back to school, Mademoiselle Sylvia?”
“Oh, um—”
“In January—so long as the weather holds,” Aggie says.
“And what is it they teach you at this school?”
“Oh, the usual: etiquette and manners and such,” I say, being intentionally vague; Aggie and I didn’t cover this part of my fake history.
“Agnes says you can read and do sums.”
“Yes.”
He smiles at me again. “Those are good skills for a young woman to have. My sister used to help my father with the inventories at the vineyard.”
I nearly faint when Alejandro calls me a “young woman” instead of a little girl. Maybe he can see that I’m not a child, at least not on the inside. “I’m sorry about your sister,” I blurt out.
This steals the smile from his face. He nods sadly to me. “Thank you. That’s very kind of you. Did Agnes tell you that she was the same age as you?”
“No,” I lie.
“Sonia was just twelve years old when the fever took her. She was a very beautiful girl and smart as a whip too.” His smile returns as he adds, “Though not as beautiful or smart as you.”
“Thank you,” I say in a strangled whisper, feeling ready to pass out.
We arrive at the cathedral where Alejandro and Aggie met—and where they’ll be married this summer. Alejandro takes Aggie’s hand to help her out of the carriage. He takes me by the waist to carry me to the ground. With anyone else I would have kicked and screamed that I’m big enough to do this by myself, but I like the feeling of Alejandro’s strong yet gentle hands around my waist. His hands are like Henri’s, like those of someone who’s worked hard all of his life.
I have never gone to a Mass before, so I have to watch Alejandro and the people around us to know what to do. For the hymns and prayers I mouth the words, except for the “Amen” at the end of the prayers. Aggie knows more of the words, but sometimes I can see her lip-synching with the congregation.
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call Page 105