All potion-making thoughts flew out the window. "Hang on. Hang on. Gavon's mother's name is Alexandra? And she was the Guildmaster before him?"
"And his master, toward the end of his tutelage." He waved his hand around the cauldron, and the bright pink mixture began to swirl.
"But I thought… Gavon said Warrior parents don't really have relationships with their children?"
James glanced at me for a moment then returned his attention to the cauldron. "Normally, they don't. But there haven't been a lot of warriors born in New Salem in the past hundred years. Are you paying attention or not? I'm not going over this again."
But I was too intrigued. "So Gavon's mother was his master?"
"Gavon's original master died when Gavon was about fifteen," James said, putting down the lavender. "So he finished his training with Alexandra alongside Cyrus—"
Okay, that got me to my feet. "Cyrus was my grandmother's apprentice?"
James snorted. "Who else would've trained him? He was going to be the next Guildmaster."
I wasn't sure why that shocked me so much. "So you're telling me that my grandmother trained Cyrus because he was going to be the next Guildmaster?"
"Are we going to talk about New Salem politics or are we going to make a healing potion?" James asked with a heavy sigh.
"You can't just tell me something like that and not explain yourself," I said with a dismissive wave of the hand. "If Cyrus was going to be the next Guildmaster, how did Gavon get the job instead?"
"There were rumblings that Alexandra was going to step down," James said. "I think Cyrus wasn't sure he could defeat Alexandra in a duel, or else he would've done it sooner. But then the conversation changed when Gavon announced he'd made the tear."
I nodded. "They all wanted Gavon to take over instead."
"Yeah, and they wanted him to lead the grand return to the world, though he felt differently," James said with a smirk. "By my calculations, Gavon was about thirty when he told the Guild about the tear."
"What does that mean?"
"Means he's forty-seven now…"
I calculated in my head. If he was forty-seven now, that meant he was thirty when I was born. And that meant… "He'd been keeping the tear a secret for five years. At least. My oldest sister is twenty-two, so…"
"Exactly," James said. "Now exactly why he decided to announce it—"
"Because my mom was pregnant with me," I said suddenly. "And that meant he had his…"
"His what?"
"His new Guildmaster," I finished lamely.
"No, Gavon never wanted you to be Guildmaster," James said definitively. "Since I was a small child, he was very clear that I was to be the next Guildmaster, even though he would often talk about you. When I was about eleven, he explained that he doubted you'd be in any shape to run a Guild, considering you'd been ignorant to magic your entire life."
I furrowed my brow. "But Cyrus told me…"
"Cyrus is a liar," James said. "And he's been out to get revenge on Gavon ever since Gavon challenged him for Guildmaster and won."
"Wait a minute, I thought you said Alexandra was Guildmaster?"
James sighed as if I were a child asking stupid questions. "Alexandra was Guildmaster. Cyrus was to be her successor until Gavon made the tear. Then Gavon was to be her successor. So before that could happen, Cyrus challenged Alexandra for the Guildmastership and won."
"Wait, Cyrus won?" I gasped. "That means he…"
"Yeah, he killed Alexandra in the duel. Apparently it was an incredible match—went on for hours. But then Gavon challenged Cyrus for the Guildmastership."
My brows rose. "Really? Why?"
"Who knows. Maybe he wanted revenge for his mother's death?" James said with a shrug. "Three weeks after Cyrus defeated Alexandra, Gavon defeated Cyrus."
"But, wait a minute, if Gavon defeated Cyrus in a duel, why is Cyrus still alive?"
"Gavon didn't kill him," James said.
"Why the hell not?"
"Because at the time, it was just Gavon and Cyrus, a few very old Warriors, and, well, me, but I was only a few months old. Gavon apparently felt that killing two Warriors was too many, so he let Cyrus live."
I closed my eyes, Cyrus' voice unwelcome in my brain as I recalled the night my mother died. "And so Cyrus wanted revenge? Why not just challenge Gavon again?"
"Can't. Once he accepted Gavon's win in the duel, there was no going back. And since dueling is outlawed except in ascension and induction matches…"
I buried my head in my hands, processing all of this new information. Gavon had never wanted to be Guildmaster, he'd waited years to tell the Guild about my mother and family. He'd named me after his own mother, but why, if, as James said, Gavon had always considered James his successor? There was too much for me to think about, too many unanswered questions.
"Are we going to make this potion or what?" James barked after my silence had gone on for a few minutes.
"Fine," I said, wrenching my thoughts away from Gavon and back to the bubbling cauldron. "So why don't Alexandra's notes work for your magic?"
"Healing potions vary from magical to magical. Some combinations work better with certain magic and some require a bit more tinkering. Knowing the color of your magic, you might be able to use some of the additions in here written by your grandmother. At least, those are the ones Gavon uses."
I ran my finger along the delicate strokes on the page, imagining the woman who wrote them and feeling an odd kinship, even though I knew nothing about her.
"Now what?" I asked.
"We wait two sunrises. Then, if it's silver, we drink it after our sparring match."
"What if it's not silver?" I asked.
"Then we'll try again and have a terrible week." He smiled. "I think we did all right." He stood and brushed the sand off his pants. "Oh, and happy birthday."
Just like that, all the air left my lungs. I'd almost forgotten.
"Sorry I mentioned it," James said.
"No, it's just…" I debated whether I should tell him about my complicated feelings surrounding my birthday. But luckily, my smarter half won over. "I've got to get back home. See ya at school tomorrow."
Thirteen
Truth be told, I hadn't paid any attention to James' instructions on making potions. But the next week, when I found myself hunched over the cauldron, my grandmother's notes proved to be all the help I needed. The potion that came out still tasted like the inside of a trashcan, but it replenished my magic almost completely—even better than James' potion had.
I chewed on the new information James had told me about Gavon and the political minefield that was the Guildmastership. There was so much I still didn't know, and so many questions I had about him, my grandmother, and Cyrus, but after a while, I tried to forget about them. There was no point in digging into Gavon's past any more than I had—after all, it wouldn't change anything. Gavon wasn't around, my mother was still dead, and Cyrus was still alive. At least now I knew why he'd been so intent on ruining Gavon, whatever small comfort that provided.
October turned to November, and although I survived my birthday unscathed, the winter holidays brought on a resurgence of guilt. Thanksgiving, in particular, arrived with a hazy memory of my Gram. I had memories of a library and a room overlooking a gray ocean. If I concentrated hard, I could almost remember Gram's face.
As I lay in bed, already smelling turkey and stuffing cooking in the oven, I grasped at what I could of my memory, although it was like running my hands through water.
"Gobble gobble!" Nicole said when I walked into the kitchen sometime later. She was already going overboard on the turkey day festivities—with enough food to feed an army and enough false cheer to make my stomach queasy.
"You know, for a woman in her twenties, you're entirely too corny," I said with a grimace.
Her bright smile faltered for just a moment then reappeared. "Oh, don't be a grumpy goose. Or grumpy turkey." She cackled to herself and went to check o
n the oven. "I figure we can eat around four. Does that sound okay?"
"Yeah." I cleared my throat. "Hey, did you get a chance to submit your tax information to Georgetown?" Nicole had been embarrassed when I asked for her tax returns, and told me she'd submit them herself.
"Mm," she said with a nod. "I don't understand why they need it already."
"I want to submit my application sooner rather than later, and they'll make a decision on scholarships and need-based aid then." I chewed my lip. "You're sure you—"
"Lexie, I told you I did it." Nicole handed me a plate of toast and a warning glare that signaled the end of it.
"Thanks," I said, biting off a piece of the hard toast. Still unsettled by my patchy memories, I decided to ask, "So…you haven't heard from Gram, have you?"
"Gram?" Nicole blinked for a moment, wracking her brain. She frowned. "Who's Gram?"
My mouth fell open in shock. Nicole didn't even remember Gram? "Our grandmother?"
"I don't… That's funny," Nicole said, turning to the gravy on the stove and stirring it. "I don't remember anything about Mom's parents. You'd think Jeanie would've said something."
"Yeah, you'd think," I said with a harsh breath. So…Gram had completely wiped herself from Nicole's memory, but apparently, not completely from mine. Or perhaps she'd wanted to, but I was too powerful.
I stared at Nicole for a moment, and more flashes came back to me—a photo of my mother and sisters in front of a house, an older woman with a mischievous smile tossing me out of the house, the ache in my chest when I'd realized my own grandmother didn't want me.
I stood up as the memories pulsed through me. Calls every birthday, the sight of her in our living room talking to me like I was beneath her. Sitting in her library while she informed me I was nothing to her. Watching her in the dueling ring in New Salem as she saved my ass from certain death.
"Lexie, are you okay?" Nicole asked.
"Yeah," I said, rubbing my face. "Yeah, just haven't had breakfast."
"Well, eat something," Nicole said, handing me a banana. "But don't eat too much because dinner is—"
"At four, you told me," I said, taking the fruit, but not eating it. "So you really don't remember Gram at all?"
"Gram?" Nicole squinted as she thought. "Maybe a little? She must've died when we were very young."
"And you don't remember living with Mom and Gavon—"
The spoon slipped out of her hand. "Lexie, please don't talk about him."
"Sorry," I said, but I was too furious to really care. "But you don't remember living in Salem?"
"I've never lived in Salem," Nicole said. "And I'd prefer not to remember that period of my life. It was nothing but a lie anyway."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you upset."
"It's all right," she said. "I just don't want you thinking of him as…well, as anything more than a stranger."
I didn't see how that was possible, but I nodded. "I don't, but I was just curious about…well, nothing, really. I'm sorry."
Nicole smiled brightly and went back to cooking, but I had a new idea. Perhaps it was time I paid my Gram a visit.
Transporting to Salem proved a little more difficult than I'd first anticipated. I was still shaky on transporting to new places (or, in this case, places I couldn't remember ever visiting), but even so, there was some powerful magic keeping me from finding a place to land in the city.
Instead, I transported myself to the tear. I hadn't been back in almost two years. I'd almost forgotten the ferocity of it. Gavon had explained it once as a rip between worlds that my ancestor, John Chase, had created to hold the gang of evil magicals who'd wanted to enslave humanity. It appeared as a slash in the air, moving and crackling with energy and lightning.
I narrowed my eyes as I watched the writhing line of energy, my memories now crystal clear. The first time I'd crossed over was after a particularly bad argument with my Gram. I'd thrown a tantrum and released too much magic. Gavon had taken me to his stately manor in New Salem, given me a healing potion, and then taken me back home through this tear. I'd been skeptical that it was safe, but he'd said, It's how you got here. Then, I'd thought he was referring to how I'd arrived in New Salem. Now, I realized he might've been speaking in more general terms.
Ass.
The longer I stared at the tear, the more I began to remember that fateful Thanksgiving and all the things that had gone wrong. If I'd just kept my head down and mouth shut, I wouldn't have pissed off Gram. I wouldn't have lost my temper. Perhaps Gavon would never have taken me to New Salem.
On the flip side, I also knew I wasn't completely in the wrong. Irene had been completely and unfairly aloof toward me—and if memory served, hadn't officially included me in Clan Carrigan, not until I'd been kidnapped and almost killed.
But then again, she'd come through for me when I'd most needed it. I'd never gotten the chance to thank her for coming to rescue me, because she'd turned around and excommunicated us.
So we both had things to apologize for.
Regardless, I felt her magic pressing in around me the closer I came to the small downtown. There were powerful barrier spells around the compound, the same ones I probably had around my apartment in Florida. But I thought it a little strange that she was protecting the entire city, and not just her property.
I wrapped my jacket tighter and cast a warming spell. And then, without any other plan, I found a coffee shop, bought myself the last pumpkin spice of the season, and waited. For whom, I had no idea. My hazy memory told me I had a ton of relatives that descended on this town during the Thanksgiving holidays, so perhaps one of them would stumble upon me.
Sipping the sweet, spicy latte, I scanned the other patrons in the cafe for signs of recognition. I still hadn't figured out that aura thing, but maybe in a town full of magicals, I could try. I set down my paper cup and closed my eyes. Maybe if I just released my magic into the universe, it would bring back the person I wanted.
I found something powerful that shot my magic back into my body. My eyes flew open, ready to search, but I didn't need to. An old woman stood in front of my table. I'd never seen her before, but at the same time, she looked…like Jeanie.
"Gram?" I said, blinking at her.
She sniffed and took the seat across from me. "It appears I need to strengthen my spells. What are you doing here, Alexis?"
"I… I have questions for you," I said. "And, you know, you are my grandmother."
She snorted, and I got the distinct impression she felt our familial relationship wasn't enough to seek her out. "I'm a busy woman. Make it quick."
"Why did you erase our memories?"
"Side effect of a barrier spell. I wanted to make sure you three forgot where our compound was in case you were tortured into revealing it."
I shivered. "Gavon wouldn't torture me."
"Gavon isn't the one who worries me. There's been a lot of activity from the tear," she said simply. "People coming and going."
"P-people?" I said. "Not person?"
"Your father, of course, continues to traverse back and forth. His apprentice as well. And also that…other man."
I licked my lips nervously. "Cyrus?"
"Whatever his name is. He's been holding meetings all over the place, so my sources are telling me. Trying to rouse the rabble."
"And you aren't…doing anything to stop it?" I said, aghast and concerned all at once.
"Of course I am. Our barriers are secure. There's no one getting into my compound and as soon as this conversation is over, I will strengthen them again."
"That's not doing anything," I replied with a frown. "That's covering your own ass and leaving the rest of us to fend for ourselves. What kind of meeting are they having? What's he trying to accomplish?"
"I'm sure nothing good. But thanks to the Danvers Accord, there's little he can accomplish with magicals here. The pact ensures their magic remains dulled."
"So you aren't doing a thing, then?" I shook my h
ead. "So glad you're on my side."
"I'm on the Carrigan Clan's side, and I've made sure that none of my people are involved in that mess. They have been expressly forbidden to speak with that man, or any of his underlings."
"He has underlings, too?" This all sounded bad, although I wasn't sure what to do with this information. I couldn't go to Gavon, but at the same time, I didn't want to confront Cyrus by myself. And I sure as hell didn't trust James with this information.
"You're a Warrior, aren't you?" she said, and a foreign presence poked at my magic. "You've been training, I see."
"With myself," I added with a scowl. If Gram still thought I was a ticking time bomb, just a push away from joining the Dark Side, I probably shouldn't tell her that I'd become sparring partners with the enemy. "Any chance you could lift the embargo on us? We're not going to bring the plague."
"And what would you do if I did?" she drawled. "You've already surpassed most of the magicals in the Guild, save myself and a few others."
"Yeah, that's the thing. I haven't. There are giant, gaping holes in my magical tutelage."
"You have a sister who could instruct you on such things."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. Nothing had changed, it seemed. "Marie is missing."
"Have you checked with your father?"
I swallowed my initial response. "I'm sure she's not with him."
"Are you? How can you be sure?"
"Because I found a spell that tells me so," I said, forcing myself to keep calm. The more I spoke with Gram, the more I remembered our last blow-up encounter. "But maybe if you could help me—"
"I won't be able to help."
That earned a frown from me. "Can't or won't?"
"Both," Gram said, and had the grace to look a little sorry for it. "You three are no longer in my clan, and therefore, I have no control over you. Beyond that, Marie seems to have cast some powerful spells to hide herself, more than the usual amount."
"She…she has?" Where would she have learned to use spells like that?
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