Zelda gave a shrug. “Why, Faustus, I shall handle everything in your rooms that requires handling. Be sure of that.”
Faustus Blackwood swallowed slightly, tugging his high anti-clerical collar with a sharpened nail.
“First let me arrange some food better than the usual slop served at the Academy,” Zelda said briskly. “Then I shall settle the children, and then we may explore … parish business in your chamber.”
“Ah,” said Father Blackwood. “Excellent.”
Zelda left the room, her every decisive step a thunderclap. Prudence’s father turned around. She thought his blue gaze would go instantly to the cradle, but his eyes held on her instead.
“Sister Zelda says that you were rather magnificent wishing death on the mortals,” he remarked. “Bravely done, Prudence. There are times I think you might not be a disgrace to the family name.”
The family name she didn’t carry. Not yet.
Prudence wanted to ask if she could bear the name now, but she bit her tongue. She didn’t want to spoil his rare good mood.
“I am happy to serve,” she murmured instead.
“As Lilith served Satan, so witches must serve warlocks,” her father murmured. “Well said.”
She wanted to stab him, and she wanted him to pat her head and tell her he was proud of her. Which made her want to stab him even more.
“Yes, Father,” she answered. “May I say, it pleases me to see a man of your Satanic magnificence attended by a worthy handmaiden.”
“Ah yes,” he said. “Sister Zelda is rather special.”
Prudence smiled. Her father left the room with a skip in his step, no doubt to prepare the whips.
Soon after he went, Zelda came back. She laid out a meal for Prudence that tasted like Hilda Spellman’s cooking, and as Prudence ate, Zelda rocked the baby’s cradle.
“How is—” Prudence lowered her voice. “How is the girl child?”
She didn’t say my little sister. It seemed a betrayal of weakness. She couldn’t trust Zelda, not yet.
Her eyes fixed on the crib, Zelda murmured: “I named her Leticia.”
Prudence knew that much. The night Sabrina invited her and her sisters to perform a séance at her house, Prudence came early and peeped through the windows, trying to catch a glimpse of the baby. She’d seen Zelda, usually so stern, playing peekaboo with the tiny girl and heard Leticia laughing in the warm safety of the Spellman house. She’d never heard Judas laugh like that.
Prudence’s smile was stillborn when Zelda continued: “I had to send Leticia to a witch in the woods, for her own safety.”
Because Prudence’s father was a man who couldn’t be trusted with daughters. Prudence nodded, hardly daring to speak.
“I understand,” she said at last, very low. “But my father esteems you greatly. Perhaps you might persuade him to treat a daughter well.”
Zelda glanced up from the cradle, her red lips curling. “Which daughter?”
Prudence smiled back. It was every witch for herself, in the end. Zelda must know Prudence wouldn’t act selflessly.
“Perhaps both,” Prudence answered. “After all, I am the only one who knows what you did, hiding the baby. I could be a great threat to you. Then again, I might be very useful.”
“We shall see, won’t we?” Zelda asked, her voice dry.
She took the tray of food away and settled Prudence back down against the cushions. Her velvet nest was like a decadent cloud. Prudence hardly noticed her headache.
If she was useful, Zelda would wish to keep her close.
“If Nick Scratch comes by,” Prudence whispered, “tell him what happened to me.”
“Nice name for a nice boy,” said Zelda. “In the choir and skilled with conjuring, isn’t he? Your beau?”
Actually, I can’t get your ward Ambrose off my mind, she wanted to say. But Prudence couldn’t show weakness of any kind.
She tried distraction instead. “Nick seems heavenbent on Sabrina.”
She saw Zelda take this in, and the satisfied curve of Zelda’s mouth as she did so. There were still many coven members who gossiped about the unfortunate mortal side of Sabrina’s heritage. Not to mention the fuss over the mortal boyfriend. A boy from an old respectable witch family, especially a boy with notable magical talent, must be the answer to Zelda Spellman’s prayers to the Dark Lord.
“Is that so?” Zelda asked lightly. “I’ll take a proper look at him if he drops by, and I’ll tell him you’re doing well. Attend to the black arts and blackmail tomorrow, Prudence. Sleep now.”
Prudence usually had trouble getting to sleep, but not tonight. On this night she slid instantly into slumber, wrapped in her blanket and deaf to knocks and voices. There was no need to lie sleepless and worrying. Everything was taken care of, including her.
Only when Judas woke crying did Prudence stir. Before she’d even flicked back the blanket, the door of Father Blackwood’s chamber opened. Zelda came out in one of Father Blackwood’s gold-embroidered robes, hair streaming loose around her shoulders and falling down into Judas’s crib as she bent over, murmuring sweetness.
Judas stopped crying and started giggling as he grabbed at Zelda’s hair, and she laughed down at him. She picked him up and rocked him until he was quiet. Prudence closed her eyes to the sound of the satin robe swishing against their brocade carpet.
When Zelda laid Judas down in his cradle, she paused by Prudence’s bed. Prudence lay very still.
Zelda sighed to herself. “She isn’t much older than my Sabrina. Sleep well, child. Flights of fallen angels sing you to your rest.”
Zelda passed a hand over Prudence’s shorn hair. Once the door shut behind Zelda, Prudence opened her eyes, sighed blissfully, and wriggled her toes luxuriously in the velvet.
This was how being a family felt. Now she knew.
Nick Scratch appeared transfixed by the slushie machine.
“Do you want to drink a slushie?” Harvey asked at last.
Nick turned an inquiring gaze upon him. “Is it a drink? I thought it was an art installation that went around and around.”
“Uh … no,” said Harvey.
“I would like to try one,” said Nick. “I didn’t know drinks came in blue.”
It was freezing outside, and everyone must be bored on Christmas vacation. There were a lot more people in the movie theater than Harvey had expected. He stared apprehensively around at the milling citizens of Greendale, wondering what weird witch thing Nick would do in front of everybody.
There were already many people giving Nick sidelong glances. Possibly because he was a stranger in town. Possibly because he’d been staring at the slushie machine for five minutes.
“Before you go,” said Harvey, “pick. What movie do you want to see?”
Nick shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never gone to the movies before. Which one is the best movie?”
They scrutinized the variety of posters on the opposite wall. Tragically, there were no posters of superheroes. One poster was a cartoon, featuring a large bee in a dress and a toy soldier who were maybe in love. Harvey hoped it worked out for them. One was a portrait of shadowy woods, with a watching eye and a too-vivid splash of blood spray across the whole scene. There always seemed to be a horror movie playing in his town.
There was also a poster of a movie with people on a swing in the sunlight. They even had a fluffy dog. They looked happy.
“Well—” Harvey began, when Nick interrupted him and pointed.
“I like that picture with the blood. Let’s go watch the movie with the blood.”
Harvey sighed. Nick noticed.
“Is that wrong? Is that not the one Sabrina would choose?”
“No,” Harvey admitted. “That’s the one Sabrina would pick.”
It was more crushing evidence of what Harvey knew already: Nick and Sabrina were going to be happy together.
Sabrina always used to smile and laugh in obvious enjoyment during the scary moments. He’d tho
ught it was a cute quirk. Now he realized what she’d always known. She was the supernatural and awe-inspiring creature, not the awestruck audience, and never the victim. It never occurred to Sabrina to be afraid.
“Go get your slushie,” Harvey told Nick. “Don’t talk to anyone else in line. People are already staring.”
Nick looked curiously around at the milling crowd of moviegoers. Harvey saw a woman he knew from the grocery store with her eyes fixed on the back of Nick’s black jacket. Nick winked.
“They just want to sleep with me.”
“Keep telling yourself that, Satan’s gift to women,” said Harvey, turning Nick around by the shoulders and pushing him toward the slushie machine.
This was a very stressful trip to the movies, but it beat staying home. As he bought popcorn, Harvey wondered what Roz and Susie were doing. It seemed like everyone in Greendale was here.
No sooner had he thought that than he turned and came face-to-face with Ambrose Spellman. Harvey almost spilled his popcorn.
He’d never actually seen Ambrose outside the Spellman house before. Ambrose was usually lounging around in dressing gowns being louche, which was a word Harvey had read but didn’t actually know how to say. Still, he was pretty sure Ambrose was it. Ambrose never seemed to take anything seriously. Least of all Harvey himself.
Now Ambrose was out in the world. There was a strange guy with him. The stranger was blond-haired and wearing black high-collared clothes that made Harvey think of a priest.
“I don’t know if you’ve met my boyfriend, Luke?” asked Ambrose. “Luke, this is Harvey. Sabrina’s ex.”
Greendale was a small town. Guys didn’t openly have boyfriends all over the place.
“Nice to meet you, Luke,” Harvey said awkwardly, trying to make clear he meant it.
They didn’t return the sentiment. Usually Ambrose smiled at people, though not in a terribly sincere way. He wasn’t smiling now. The look on his boyfriend’s face was worse. His pale eyes regarded Harvey as if he were a bug. From the look alone, Harvey knew Luke must be a warlock.
“Out on the town?” Ambrose’s lip curled. “Good luck trying to find anyone as special as the girl you threw away.”
“That’s not fair,” Harvey mumbled.
He remembered turning up at the Spellmans’ door in a miner’s costume and having Ambrose make a crack about dressing as his future. Ambrose always acted as though he expected Sabrina to ditch Harvey and move on to better things.
Ambrose shrugged. “Life’s not fair. You made my cousin cry. Now she’s home alone and you’re at the movies, as though some mortal girl could replace Sabrina.”
Harvey was rendered speechless by the idea of Sabrina crying. She’d fallen in the playground once, when they were eight. There’d been blood. She’d smiled and patiently waited for her aunts to come while Harvey sat with her in the nurse’s office. He cried, but she never did.
Their bubble of cold silence in the noisy crowd was pierced by Nick sauntering back to Harvey’s side.
“This drink is delicious,” he announced. “It tastes like blue.”
Ambrose’s mouth fell open.
Nick noticed his presence and waved his large cup. “Ambrose. Are you here to see a movie too?”
Ambrose made a wild spinning gesture with both hands, his rings catching the light. Harvey had never seen Ambrose taken aback before.
“It’s Nick Scratch,” Nick reminded him helpfully.
“Oh, I remember,” murmured Ambrose. Nick smiled and resumed drinking his slushie.
Ambrose’s expression of shock had transformed to fascination.
“Harvey Kinkle,” he said slowly. “Do you have irresistible charisma I’ve just never noticed?”
“Um,” said Harvey. “I don’t think so. Nick, could you explain to him …”
Nick nodded. “We’re practicing dating.”
Ambrose’s usual grin was beginning to creep back, wide and bright. “What happens after you practice? Do you get really good at it?”
Harvey gave Nick a reproachful look. “You’re bad at explaining.”
“I have no idea what’s happening,” said Ambrose. “Harvey, you want to try explaining?”
Harvey blinked hard twice, hoping maybe the next time he opened his eyes he wouldn’t be in this situation.
He still was.
“Well …” he said. “Nick doesn’t know how to date someone in a mortal way. It’s like … I watch a lot of shows late at night.”
“Same,” said Ambrose.
“Like travel and nature documentaries.”
“Nope, very different,” said Ambrose. “Go on.”
When Harvey was home alone and his dad was at the bar, the TV shows were company.
“I once saw a documentary about dolphins. They flirt by tapping each other with their tails. But humans sometimes pat dolphins, like, Hi, nice to meet you, dolphin. Then the dolphins go, Whoa, is this flirting? Okay, unexpected, but I guess life is a rich tapestry. And they tap the humans with their tails and the humans are like, Oh no, my spine. Not similar ways of flirting, humans and dolphins.”
“Do you understand any of what he’s saying?” Ambrose asked Nick in a stage whisper.
Nick grinned. “It comes and goes.”
Ambrose studied Harvey in a wondering and slightly offensive manner. “He’s not ensorceled, is he?”
“I prefer not to mess with people’s minds, generally,” said Nick. “Also I have no idea how to ensorcel someone to call me a dolphin. What even is a dolphin?”
Harvey didn’t like this conversation.
“My point is, Sabrina and Nick were having communication issues, because even though she’s … half dolphin … she hasn’t flirted the dolphin way before.”
Harvey surveyed the group. Ambrose and Nick were both smiling, but in a mocking fashion. Luke was staring as if he thought Harvey was a particularly stupid bug.
“The dolphin stuff is a metaphor,” Harvey concluded.
“Ah, this is about Sabrina,” Ambrose remarked.
“Yeah,” said Harvey. “Obviously?”
Ambrose held out a hand. “Luke, popcorn!”
The boyfriend offered Ambrose his carton of popcorn. Ambrose took a handful and began to toss the pieces into his mouth, still grinning. He was watching Nick and Harvey as though they were his entertainment for the evening.
Nick’s attention went from Ambrose, to the popcorn, to the boyfriend. His eyes narrowed. His teeth showed in a snarl.
“Nick!” Harvey was horrified. “A word.”
He grabbed Nick’s jacket and tugged him aside. Nick tossed a sneer over his shoulder.
“You can’t act that way,” Harvey whispered urgently. “It’s okay for them to date!”
Years ago—when Harvey was eleven and Ambrose still looked the same age he was now, oh God, the witches really were immortal—Tommy was sixteen and had just started driving. Tommy dropped Harvey off at Sabrina’s house so they could play in the woods. They’d seen Ambrose kissing a guy in the Spellmans’ pet cemetery. Harvey thought both he and his brother were a little surprised, but Tommy pulled the truck over to the side of the road and spoke seriously.
“He’s cool,” Tommy assured Harvey. “It’s cool. Don’t let anyone tell you different.”
Later, Roz explained further about sexuality and Kinsey scales, and the guys at school made nasty jokes about Harvey being into art, but Harvey remembered what his brother had told him.
Nick was staring blankly. “What?”
“We’re, um, all God’s children,” said Harvey.
Nick looked aghast. “Not me!”
“Right,” said Harvey. “Sorry, bad way to put it. What I’m trying to say is—”
He was distracted by the sound of someone munching popcorn. Ambrose had followed them, boyfriend in tow.
“I’m shamelessly eavesdropping,” Ambrose informed them. “What Harvey is trying to say—and huzzah for being an ally, I guess, not that I need your inept help
—is that some followers of the false god look unfavorably upon romance between people of the same sex.”
“Really?” said Nick.
He looked at Harvey for confirmation of this astonishing news. Harvey sighed and nodded.
“I thought the big advantage of the false god was that he lets people love each other?” Nick shook his head. “Those followers are only making their own god look bad.”
“I agree with you,” said Harvey, “but do you always have to call him the false god? Like, I don’t call Satan the false satan.”
“Some mortals call Satan the Prince of Lies,” argued Nick. “I’ve read about it.”
“I guess that’s true.”
Harvey glanced uneasily over at Ambrose and his stone-faced boyfriend, regarding them as if they were an exhibit at the zoo.
“Don’t mind us!” said Ambrose.
Harvey hunched his shoulders. He hated when people stared. “Let’s go buy the tickets.”
“I already got the tickets,” Nick said.
Harvey noticed the difference between the word buy and the word got.
“Did you enchant the ticket sales lady? Taking tickets is stealing. Roz says capitalism is an imperfect system, but it’s the one we’ve got. Enchanting people is wrong—”
“Who cares,” Nick muttered.
“And I don’t like it. Nor will Sabrina. Go back and pay her!”
Nick sighed. “Fine.”
“Is that mortal talking like a prim governess to Nick Scratch?” Ambrose’s boyfriend wondered aloud. “Nick Scratch, necromancy expert and infernally skilled conjurer, keeps his pens in a pirate’s skull, the guy who bound three other students in a devil’s snare that was on fire? Did we fall into a demonic pocket universe? Is any of this really happening?”
Ambrose’s boyfriend took a sudden sharp step forward. When Harvey lifted a hand to ward him off, Luke grabbed Harvey’s wrist.
“And he’s not even ensorceled?” Luke asked. “Enchanting mortals is a basic precaution.”
Harvey lost patience. “Hey, jerk, could you stop talking about me as if I’m not here?”
“I wish you weren’t. Someone should teach you to keep a civil tongue in your head,” said Luke. “Witch-hunter.”
Daughter of Chaos Page 15