I nodded grimly. “Without us noticing.”
Audrey snarled, a rippling, vicious sound. Then she took off with Lara at her heels. Back toward the SUV, I guessed. Though presumably they’d stop off wherever they’d stashed their clothing. Because it was going to be much, much easier to tell us all off in human form.
I sighed, tromping after the wolves.
Why did I suddenly feel as if I were back in school, staring at a surprise math test and not even knowing where to start? And, to top it off, the outsiders in this so-called test — the elves, who were out of their element and should have been struggling to catch up — had apparently gathered more information about the Adepts of Vancouver than I had about them in the same period of time.
In the aftermath of a tense drive back to the city, I rolled into my very empty bed, pleased to be back in Vancouver and behind the wards of my apartment — but still out of sorts over the games the elf was playing.
Audrey and Lara were staying with Kandy in her apartment across from mine. After a flurry of text messages with Kett, updating him and Warner about the elf activity, Jasmine had barricaded herself in my second bedroom with a half-dozen electronic devices, including an old, broken laptop of mine that she’d somehow found in the hall closet. I’d meant to recycle it, then had forgotten to actually take it to the depot.
The fledgling vampire had tried to convince Kandy she was capable of spending the night in Kett’s and her apartment in False Creek. But with that apartment lacking the wards that protected the bakery and both of our apartments — powered by heavy-duty blood magic, courtesy of yours truly — Kandy had flatly denied the request. Jasmine wasn’t under house arrest or anything. But if the elf had actively targeted the werewolves after attempting to beguile me, then the vampire was safer staying in a secured building.
The werewolves’ gossipy chatter hadn’t resumed after the incident with the elf. Kandy had wanted to continue hunting, but Audrey had decreed that we would return to the city. By the baleful looks the beta kept casting my way, I figured she was trying to sort out some way to blame the elf fiasco on me. Presumably, dashing out into a snowstorm after nothing but an illusion really wasn’t Audrey’s idea of a good hunt. What was that saying about getting egg on your face? Whatever it was, the beta of the West Coast North American Pack didn’t like the feeling.
As I reached over to turn off the bedside lamp, I spotted the art tube from Rochelle tucked up against my bureau.
Slowly, I climbed out from underneath the covers and crawled to the corner of the bed. I brushed my fingers against the plastic cap that sealed the tube, feeling a tingle of oracle magic.
Then I hesitated.
For the umpteenth freaking time.
I was getting married in five days. Whatever Rochelle had deemed an appropriate engagement gift had to just be a confirmation of the future I’d chosen for myself. Therefore, I was acting ridiculous, giving the sketch contained in the art tube far too much power over me.
Unless … unless the oracle had a warning that she’d wanted to wrap in ribbon. You know, to soften the blow.
I withdrew my hand.
Yep, I was being utterly absurd. Reading into whatever Warner hadn’t fully articulated in the shower. Fretting about the elf. And now not opening the oracle’s sketch, when I knew everything was going to be okay. Because no matter what happened, it was always eventually okay.
Eventually.
But not always without casualties.
I crawled back under the covers, tucking in with my phone and texting Kett.
Kiss my dragon goodnight for me.
I had barely closed my eyes before the vampire replied with his typical brevity.
>Done.
I threw my head back and laughed. I felt the magic of the instruments on my necklace, then felt the energy of the wards that coated the walls ripple and roll in response.
Then, under the comforting weight of both, I slept. I knew that I needed to be rested, what with the fact that my mother was hosting a bridal shower that my grandmother had insisted was her inherent right to host, as the head of our family and the head of the coven. But because I’d already begrudgingly allowed Gran to throw us an engagement party, I’d overruled her.
So the following afternoon would be filled with tea, petit fours, and polite conversation, all underlaid with the disquiet that constantly simmered between Pearl and Scarlett, mother and daughter.
Certain types of Adepts, if not most, became more powerful with age. And my mother was no longer hiding her power, or her influence, underneath a thick layer of charm and charisma. I’d actually heard her refer to herself as ‘Scarlett Godfrey, member of the Convocation, mother of Jade, dowser,’ twice in the past three months, when normally she’d introduce herself as the daughter of Pearl Godfrey.
So, yeah. Even beyond elves running amok, the tenor of Vancouver was changing. And it always got worse before it got better, didn’t it? The trick was getting through the worst of it without losing anyone in the process.
Or without murdering anyone.
And I had yet to pull off that feat.
5
Strawberry-blond tresses tumbled over my mother’s shoulders as she leaned forward, reaching for me with both hands before I’d even made it to the bottom of the front stairs of her newly renovated triplex. She was swathed in a royal-blue wool dress that fell demurely to just below her knees, and which displayed a generous hint of cleavage. By the wattage of her smile, paired with a lingering discordant spike of her underlying grassy witch magic, I got the distinct sense that Scarlett had thought I might not have shown up for my own bridal shower.
But my werewolf pack had hauled me out of bed only a few hours after I’d fallen asleep, and together we’d gotten pedicures and gone for brunch. Audrey was reserved as usual, but Lara and Kandy had bantered away, seemingly unaffected by our run-in with the elf. Jasmine opted to stay at the apartment, tinkering away with her tech projects. Apparently, neither brunch nor being touched by estheticians was high on the vampire’s list of likes.
After getting back from the pedicure, I’d flicked through the unusually tidy hangers filled with jeans and T-shirts in my closet, finding a green-and-brown plaid kilt I’d completely forgotten I owned. Blossom’s obsessive need to organize every inch of the space she deemed her territory came with bonuses beyond that of a pristinely clean kitchen. I paired the skirt with a slim-fitted, hand-knit dark-green sweater and tights, setting off my green knee-high boots perfectly. The Mezzo Dallas Fluevogs came with my favorite two-and-a-half-inch wrapped leather heel and had two rows of antique silver studs running up the fronts. The skirt was a trifle short for afternoon tea, but I looked damn cute.
I grasped my mother’s hands, stepping up to brush a kiss across her cheek. Energy shifted between us, and the taste of her strawberry magic filled my senses. “What’s wrong?” I whispered.
“Absolutely nothing, my darling. I love the boots.”
I glanced down to admire them with a grin. “I got them on sale!”
My mother laughed quietly, then reached around me to shake Audrey’s hand as the beta werewolf joined us on the front patio. “The pack honors us with their presence.”
Audrey nodded imperiously. “The pack is always pleased to express their friendship with the Godfrey coven.”
My mother’s smile stiffened, but she deliberately turned her attention to Kandy and Lara, greeting everyone formally in the order their rank required.
So it was going to be one of those sorts of afternoons. Painfully polite politics paired with thinly veiled threats and subtle games of dominance. And I’d thought I was just showing up for the treats.
Jasmine had once again chosen to stay behind, having declared she was busy fixing and improving the laptop I didn’t actually need. And after she’d repeatedly and grumpily sworn that she’d text one of us before she left the apartment — and the protection of its wards — Kandy and I had agreed. Though a heated argument had erupted among t
he wolves when Kandy suggested that Lara could stay with her. Apparently, the suggestion that one of the pack enforcers would babysit a vampire was an utter affront. According to Audrey, at least.
And in truth, I was worried that on top of the inbred animosity that continually percolated between vampires and werewolves, a gathering of witches might have been too much for Jasmine. The strength that being remade with Kett’s blood had given her — strength of both mind and body — was considerable. But she was still a fledgling, learning how to handle that strength. When she’d caught me, then hauled me back from a blind drop over a cliff the previous night, it had seemed to surprise her as much as me.
Thinking about that moment again, I realized I shouldn’t have been all that surprised that my mother had thought it was possible I wouldn’t show up for my own bridal shower.
Kandy and Lara followed Audrey into the main level of the house. My mother linked her arm through mine, holding me back for a moment as the werewolves removed their coats and knitwear in the small entranceway. The triplex was split from front to back, with the two upper units sharing the main and top floors. Bedrooms were above the living area, and the lower garden-level unit occupied the entire basement footprint. Scarlett had opted to follow Vancouver’s Heritage C guidelines, picking her paint colors and other finishings based on specified options. As such, the exterior was a deep purple offset by white pillars and window trim.
As the werewolves wandered in, following the murmur of voices toward the living room, my mother and I stepped inside, arm in arm. It was almost shockingly warm. Scarlett had to release me to close the door, and I shucked off my jacket and scarf, hanging them up in the coat closet. A colorful oil painting by a renowned local artist, David Wilson, depicting Vancouver in the rain, held a place of prominence on the wall opposite the closet.
My mother had been nomadic throughout my entire life, but she seemed to be enjoying finally settling down and slowly filling her abode with collectables from local artists — paintings, pottery, and handmade furniture. Her taste skewed to understated and modern, despite the heritage status of the house, but she didn’t shy away from color.
A glimmer of magic drew my attention to an ornate wrought-iron umbrella stand tucked beside the door. Reaching through what appeared to be an invisibility spell — one that tasted distinctly of my mother’s strawberry-infused witch magic — I brushed my fingers across what felt like the pommel of a sword.
At my touch, an almost delicate-looking rapier sheathed in worn, rune-etched leather appeared before me. The cross guard was an elaborate twist of gold-plated metal, designed to deflect blows and protect the wielder’s hand. It was set with sapphires almost the same color as my mother’s eyes.
As my eyes.
The weapon tasted of smoky dragon magic. I gave my mother a pointed look.
She shrugged delicately, smiling.
I released the pommel, and the weapon disappeared behind the invisibility spell again. “I suppose he offered to train you as well?”
“It would have been irresponsible not to,” Scarlett said smoothly.
My mother and I had never discussed — and hopefully never would discuss — what relationship she and my father had rekindled after I’d met him for the first time almost four and a half years before. Or if there even was a relationship. Though I had long suspected that Yazi at least visited my mother, and I’d seen my father wearing a scarf that looked like one my grandmother had knit.
Warner had implied as much during our conversation in the shower the previous night, when he’d suggested that my father wouldn’t mind an excuse to visit Vancouver. To see me, yes, but I was fairly certain Yazi also wanted to see my mother. He didn’t appear to use the portal in the bakery, so I honestly wasn’t sure how he was coming and going. But either way, without really intending to do so, I’d made sure that my relationship with my father and my mother wasn’t tied to whatever form their … connection took. At least not beyond the one thing they had in common — me.
I couldn’t imagine anyone trying to maintain a romance of any kind with a guardian dragon — especially not my father, the warrior, who helped guard all the territories at the other eight guardians’ behest. Though now that I was thinking about it, I imagined that dating Chi Wen, the far seer, would probably be more difficult.
Then there was the fact that my mother, even though a powerful witch, definitely wasn’t a demigod. Her mortality added a difficult dynamic to the equation. Which was maybe part of the reason behind the gift of the sword.
“Well,” I said, breaking the silence that had stretched between my mother and me as I sorted out the ramifications of the rapier’s appearance in the umbrella stand. “Bring it to me when you have a moment and I’ll tie it to you. So no one else can wield it without your permission.”
Scarlett smiled, brushing her fingers against the back of my hand. Her magic curled up across my wrist — but for the first time in a long while, I didn’t allow it past my personal shielding. Normally, I would have greedily collected the lick of strawberry-imbued power and hoarded it in my knife.
My mother’s smile faltered. “Am I so weak that you think me unworthy of him?”
Startled, I met her strangely sad gaze. “Why would you think that it’s you I’d deem unworthy? Or that I’d think that of either of you?”
“I know he … your father is …” She seemed unable to complete her sentence.
And I knew how she felt. Having a demigod for a parent was a little overwhelming, and a whole lot of pressure. “Mom. I was … he’s just not the most reliable. That’s all.”
“He would do anything for you.”
“But this isn’t about me, is it?”
“Isn’t it? Warner isn’t exactly known for his availability. You take him as he comes, and for whatever time he’s able to spend with you. Isn’t that the hallmark of a solid relationship? That you both do your best? That you love each other for what time you have?”
I shifted uncomfortably under my mother’s soft gaze. The conversation had rather abruptly taken a turn into territory that I wasn’t particularly prepared to discuss. Not Warner’s and my relationship, or my mother and father’s.
“The difference is … I am … the wielder of the instruments of assassination.” The pronouncement of my title, of my magical prowess, felt lame the moment I uttered it, but I didn’t know any other way to express my reservations.
My mother smiled proudly, then she reached up and lightly rested her hands on my shoulders. And this time, I allowed her magic to settle on me, easing the tension that had become stifling in the small entranceway.
“That you are, oh daughter of mine,” she murmured. “You are a kind, lovely soul. Fair-minded but fierce when you need to be. I’m blessed to call you my own.”
Tears of joy suddenly threatened the edges of my eyes. I laughed quietly. “And I bake the tastiest cupcakes.”
My mother chuckled. “Don’t worry about your father. He does his duty, and I happily do mine. Here with you. If we meet in the in-between, we are both pleased to do so. Our relationship is separate from our individual connections with you. I wouldn’t have it any other way.”
I nodded, still a little too overwhelmed by her declarations to articulate any actual thought.
“Come now, my Jade. I’ve collected all your favorite treats.”
“But you’ll bring the rapier to me? That is a lot of power to leave propped by your front door.”
“Tomorrow, darling. Tomorrow. Your father bade me to leave it there, and you forget how few could see through that spell.”
A cold shiver ran down my spine. “He bade you? As in … he knows … or rather, the far seer knows … that you’ll need a weapon easily at hand in the near future?” I didn’t articulate the thought further, but my mind was suddenly churning with possible scenarios that would require a dragon-wrought sword to be accessible at any moment beside my mother’s front door. Each wild scene I conjured was more terrifying than the last.
Scarlett paused. Her indigo gaze was thoughtful but not concerned. “I didn’t question him. I assumed that it was … playfully intended.”
I nodded, opting to let the subject drop — even though I was fairly certain the warrior of the guardians didn’t lightly gift deadly magical artifacts, not even in order to woo the mother of his long-lost child. And if my father was following a directive, or even just a suggestion, from the far seer?
Well … I inhaled deeply, settling my thoughts. The future unfolded whether I understood what was coming or not. And if a rapier tipped the balance in my mother’s favor? Good. I’d make sure no one could take the blade from her, and I would try to find peace with the idea.
Because what I really wanted to do was to charge back to the bakery and through the portal, demanding answers. But I was trying to avoid angry hysterics as much as possible. It was difficult to embrace being a brat at heart when you were also the caretaker of the only three ways to kill a guardian dragon.
So that was another thing to be bitchy at Chi Wen about. I wouldn’t have minded having a few more years of unfettered brattiness before taking up that mantle.
Ignoring my introspection, my mother tugged me through the short front hall into the living room. I allowed her to pull me out of the disconcerting moment, though she couldn’t have physically moved me without my willingness. I certainly wasn’t going to play games with my mother, not when she never played them with me.
That said, my grandmother was another ball of wax/kettle of fish/brouhaha altogether. The implied power of the dragon-forged rapier in the umbrella stand, whether it was simply a gift or a precursor to a future unfolding, would not sit well with Pearl Godfrey, chair of the Convocation. Not one bit. And it saddened me that my mother could offer me unconditional love when her mother had never felt the same for her.
Not that I’d known either of those things while I was growing up. The eternal underlying tension between my mother and grandmother was yet another reason that I could have happily stayed a blissfully ignorant, self-centered brat for a few more years.
Misfits, Gemstones, and Other Shattered Magic Page 7