And yet, an achievement that I’d hit. And…gods…and I wasn’t going to say it. They’d already rejected me. They didn’t need to know everything.
I sort of semi-shook my head.
“Who brews it for Chrysanthemum?”
“Elisabeth gave her some,” I said. Not a lie. Not the full truth. Time for a counter-offensive. “Why all the questions, Dr. Feldy?”
“Why are you here, Veruca?”
“I love to brew,” I said honestly. “Isn’t that what this group is about?”
“You didn’t brew the stuff that Felix was selling. You just didn’t.” Annika looked around for support, and I could see that a lot of the group agreed with her.
What a trap. Hecate’s eyeballs. I wasn’t going to insist I did. I wasn’t going to say Felix sold potions. That kind of thing could get you expelled.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I lied.
“Would you say that under a truth serum,” she demanded.
“I have an aversion to truth serums.”
“Brewing untested potions and taking them without being certain of the effects is very dangerous,” Dr. Feldy said. But he said it lackadaisically. He practically yawned at the end of the statement.
I didn’t sigh. I didn’t rub my face or shove my hands into my hair. But I also didn’t stomp out. I didn’t want to go. I wanted to make the winter balm that they’d planned for today. I’d prepped my ingredients. I wanted to stand over a burner and smell the collection of scents from brewing potions and mix in the essence of roses from Martha’s off-season garden--because I could. Because I was good enough to take the standard winter balm recipe and make it my own.
“Yes,” I agreed. It was dangerous. It was also how potions were made and adjusted.
I’d once turned my hair green and frizzy. Sort of like a green afro. I’d once lost my eyesight for three weeks while my mother figured out what I had done and lectured me every moment in between. I’d once killed a bunny with something I thought would make it talk to me. Just thinking about it…I wanted to cry again. I’d buried that poor, stupid rabbit under a full moon and spelled lavenders to bloom on its grave all year round.
“I thought we were going to brew,” I said instead of spewing out my near endless list of mistakes.
“Would you join me in my office tomorrow at 8:00 am?” Dr. Feldy was as expressionless as ever.
“I have class at 8:00 am.”
“Isn’t that your Necromancer 101 class?” Annika’s voice sneered, and she followed it up with a laugh. Others chimed in but Dr. Feldy was the one who interrupted.
“There is no shame in a 101 class. Every single one of you is taking or has taken Potions 101. Veruca won’t need to,” he glanced around the group and said. “I am in need of some winter balm. Shall we begin?”
I took a long deep breath before I crossed to a potions table in the back and began pulling out my ingredients. I’d taken the base potion they’d given us and changed it up. I’m sure Annika would notice and report me.
I was finding that—right then—I didn’t care too much about that. Witch school was supposed to be so very different than what I was experiencing. I felt stupidly lonely until a guy with dark hair and glasses took the table next to mine.
“Did you really create those potions?”
I glanced over and examined him carefully. He knew why I was looking him over—that scene would have left an idiot on edge. And I don’t think that anyone thought I was stupid. Not like idiot stupid. Maybe arrogant stupid.
“Even if I did…” I glanced around the room pointedly to finish the question.
“I’m Sam,” he said. And grinned at me in an earnest sort of way. “I love to brew too. I couldn’t have answered those questions even though I’m in my senior year. Dr. Feldy got your gage even if he didn’t get you to admit much.”
“Book learning can be spewed by anyone. Skilled or not,” I said as I began melting my base—beeswax, coconut oil, and shea butter. The beeswax had come from the hives my mother and I kept. I’d brought some with me, and Daddy had shipped me more when I realized this potion was coming up. Our bees had been raised on magicked flowers and had been sung chants in proto-Romanian infused with magic and will.
“Maybe,” Sam replied. “But then again, I was feeling pretty confident about my potion skills until tonight.”
My phone buzzed, and I glanced down to see a picture of the cliffs of the island. I could see the sun rising in the distance and knew my mother had been thinking of me when my mother had taken it. My eyes burned for a moment and then it was followed by, “I left the Talisman behind.”
Well, now that left me sick to my stomach.
“So you’re a Hallow?”
“Apparently,” I replied wondering why he was asking.
“You don’t sound like you’re from Connecticut.”
“I was raised in Washington State. You?”
“Ashland, Oregon.”
That made me feel a little bit like I was home. I’d been to Ashland. I’d seen plays in the theaters there and eaten at the little sushi place on Main Street. Their food was divine, and the plays were astounding. Not what you’d expect for some tiny town in Southern Oregon.
I added lavender—my favorite scent—to one pot, orange blossom to another, and rose essence to the final one. I’d gathered the orange blossom from flowers in the orangery in Martha. These were followed by one drip of belladonna essence, one drip of peppermint, one of night-blooming lily raised in blood and ash and—very carefully—one puff of air from cypress that had been burned in my family’s cemetery.
“That’s not the recipe,” Sam said.
“Mmmm,” I replied.
“Did you add smoke?”
“Hmmmm,” I answered.
“Dr. Feldy is watching your every move,” Sam was still melting his ingredients. But his weren’t nearly as nice as mine. I finally took pity on him and pressed my hand to the side of his cauldron until I could feel the flow of magic and adjusted his flame.
“What did you do?”
“You have to meld the magic of the fire with the magic of the potion for it to combine and meld perfectly.”
“That’s not something you can feel,” He hissed to me, glancing over his shoulder as if I’d said something illegal. “You have to have special equipment.”
“Ok,” I agreed. Why did people keep insisting I couldn’t do what I did? You want to know how? You have your mother blindfold you and work on your perception from the time you were a toddler. It gave you a unique skill set that was—quite frankly—viciously provided.
“Holy Hecate,” Sam said, “Rue…you should know that Dr. Feldy isn’t the sort of mentor-type professor. He’s going to want something from you, and he’ll take advantage of whatever he can.”
“Of course he will,” I said. How else would it go? It wouldn’t be all roses and potions, would it? This day sucked. I finished my potion, nodded to Sam, and left. I wanted to go home to my coven and talk to Hazel. I paused, realizing that Dr. Feldy had not provided another time to meet with him. I wasn't going to skip class though, so I'd have to go when I could.
Instead of calling Hazel, I called Branka. “Hey.”
“Yo,” she replied. Oh. Mother was there. That different reply meant Mother was around. Code enacted.
“So,” I said. “The potions professor who is over Potions Club came today to test me on my knowledge and wants me to meet him privately. I hear that he’s a jerk and probably wants to take advantage of me. How was your day?”
“Well I didn’t break spells on a haunted theater and hide from a ghost in a pentacle, but I did get dosed with truth serum and grounded until the end of my days.”
“Sweet,” I grinned at her tone. Like she wouldn’t be climbing out her window tonight to prove to our Mother she could.
“Daddy was the one who grounded me,” Bran said quietly.
Now that took my breath away. Daddy was a softy. Daddy didn’t g
et mad. Daddy… “Are you ok? Are you hurt? Were you arrested?”
“Yes. No. And no. Look I have to go. Daddy says I have to chant our gardens and clean the kitchen and my bedroom.”
“You said something mean to Mother?”
“Oh yes,” Bran replied. “Yes, yes I did. And I’d rather clean until the day I can leave the house than apologize.”
There was so much vicious anger in her words that I asked very, very carefully. “What happened?”
Bran didn’t reply. She hung up. And that told me I didn’t want to know. What else could go wrong? I wanted to go back to before. Before people began realizing that I was the Hallow who'd reopened the Hallow house. Those first days, when I'd walked into class and been a total stranger. They'd been lonely. But they'd been far less stressful. And--what in the world was going on with Branka? For the love of Hecate, I needed cheesecake and a burger.
CHAPTER 11
“I made dinner,” Elspeth piped as I walked in the door. “You guys eat nothing but meat and junk. You can’t live on that.”
There was actual scold in her voice. Also, was she stupid? Meat was exactly what Chrysie needed. I was super edgy given my day, but that was not the time to scold me for anything. Anything at all. And Chrysie--she was sitting at the table with Felix looking miserably at her green salad with Italian dressing and seeds. There wasn’t one bit of animal protein on her plate which other than calories was the only thing that Chrysie needed.
I looked at Elspeth, and I shook my head. Then I crossed to the kitchen and said to Martha, “Do we have any steaks left?”
“Veruca,” Elspeth said, despite the fact that she was a guest in my house, “You’re being very rude.”
I didn't know why she was acting like this. Maybe this was her way of parenting her daughter. Maybe she was trying to parent me. Maybe she'd had a crap day too. But it was not the time to harass me and expect me to swallow it.
“Elspeth,” I replied, scooping myself up the salad. “You are not my mother. Who is, by the way, the epitome of rude. So I have learned from the best. However, this is my house. And though I think this salad looks good, your daughter can not eat it.”
I asked Martha for a flame and grilled Chrysie a rare steak and slapped it on a plate in front of her. “Eat.”
I turned to Elspeth and repeated, “This is my house.”
“You said that.”
“Get it straight. You’re welcome to stay here while you're in town, but I don’t need or want another person telling me what to do. Also, and I mean this seriously, you need to learn about Chrysie’s needs or you’re going to hurt her because she doesn’t seem to be able to tell you anything. Even that she needs to eat meat or she’ll die.”
Chrysie was frowning at her steak but not eating. A tear rolled down her face and then another.
“I wanted to be a vegetarian when I came to school,” she whispered at her plate.
“Chrysie, eat that steak, or I will shove it down your throat with magic. And make sure you drink your potion and eat dessert. And, I’m sorry. But you were murdered, and now you’re a vampire and being a vegetarian isn’t a choice you get to have.”
“Felix,” I said. “You hate vegetables. For the love of Hecate, someone tell me we have actual alcohol.”
“That is illegal,” Elspeth said. “You’re barely 18.”
“Go away,” I told Elspeth. I took the wine bottle Martha provided, poured myself a glass and added two of my powdered potions. Which would, sadly, counteract, the effects of the alcohol but make the potions more effective. And, I should be rested and alert tomorrow. And then I left the kitchen and the food I wanted to eat to escape the oppressive atmosphere of my home.
****
When I walked down the stairs the next morning, I almost had a spring in my step. Sure it had been a terrible weekend. And sure something was seriously wrong with my sister, Branka. And sure, I regretted letting Elspeth stay with us even though I knew I’d do it again. And sure…I didn’t get to talk to Daddy this weekend, and I missed him like a knife twisting in my chest.
“Veruca,” Elspeth said as I opened the cupboards. “I’d like to talk to you.”
My mother would have doped me with potions or held me to my chair with magic. I wasn’t familiar with this type of parenting, but I’d seen enough of it on TV.
“How can I help you, Elspeth?”
I adjusted my goal from cereal to a bagel I could toast and bring with me. Somehow I was sure I wouldn’t want to be eating at that table in a few minutes. I popped the bagel in and busied myself making me coffee and taking my energy and clarity potion. Her gaze was so very heavy as she saw me add the potion to my grapefruit juice.
“I don’t appreciate how you spoke to me last night.”
I licked my lips carefully and wished for patience and calmness. “Elspeth, you were making a power play.”
“Excuse me,” she said, shocked. Her eyes were wide and offended. I had probably hurt her feelings. But that didn’t change the truth of what had been happening.
“I’m sorry that you didn’t expect me to identify and thwart your plan, but this can’t happen.”
She stuttered but said nothing.
“This is my house, Elspeth. I have waited my whole life to get out from under the thumb of my mother. Since you lived with her before, I’m sure you can imagine why. Please understand, you’re welcome to stay here. You aren’t welcome to push me or the others around. Even Chrysie.”
She pressed her lips together in the way I knew so well. It was fury and disbelief. On my mother it was much more frightening.
“Excuse me,” this time she said it with anger. “I am your elder.”
“You are indeed,” I agreed. “But this is still my house. And being older than me does not give you the right to lord it over the rest of us. It was nice of you to make food. It was nice of you to think of our health. I’m sorry you didn’t realize that Chrysie must eat meat. And I’m sorry you were unaware that Felix doesn’t like anything approaching healthy. And I’m sorry…”
“I," Elspeth snapped, "am trying to apologize as well. I..."
I raised a brow and felt like a jerk.
"I was out of line yesterday. I shouldn't have attacked you. I am here to help. And I'm not doing a very good job of it."
I wish I could believe her. But...every member of the Hallow family except Chrysie was a manipulative, controlling jerk. And yes, I included myself in that group. Elspeth could have an agenda of her own. And I couldn't be sure she didn't.
A tear rolled down her cheek, and the roll of the world’s biggest jerk was handed to me. But I couldn’t roll over for her grief.
“I would like to say I appreciate your help, but I don't trust you."
Elspeth looked ill. Well and truly ill. And while she held back her vomit or her tears or whatever it was that I’d done to her, I slathered my bagel with cream cheese and told her to have a good day.
* * * * *
My headache was back, it was right behind my eyes. But I had Necromancy 101 and my World Lit class to go to. I kept moving, focused on getting to class and surviving another day. I could almost feel my bed wrapping me up at the end of today. I was tired. I was telling myself to make it to my bed when Finn took my arm.
“I am not a puppet for you to control,” I told him, staring at his hand until he let go of me.
“Rue, you need to learn about necromancy.”
"Which is why I'm on my way to class,” I countered flatly.
“That will take forever. I would teach you how to take care of yourself, so you don’t have to call someone on the phone for help.”
“Are you worried about me?”
He was so very pretty, I thought again, as he looked down at me with those perfect eyes. But the way he grabbed at me made me want to stab in him the eye with a fork.
“Yes, of course,” he said. Which warmed my heart until he said, “I’m worried about all of us.”
Don’t feel speci
al, Rue. Don’t feel like someone like him would want someone like you. Or care about you specifically.
“Finn, I don’t want to be keeper. I feel like everyone around here thinks I must want to do that. So, they don’t believe me. But, I don’t.”
“Learning to protect yourself with necromancy isn’t going to make you keeper,” he replied.
What an innocent little lamb he was.
“The St. Angelus Thinning has chosen Hallow after Hallow for a reason. And it isn’t bloodline.”
“Then what is it,” he asked with such utter derision. He didn’t think like a Hallow. And Hallows manipulate you and notice things like when they are being manipulated.
“I am guessing here. But I would say, it's probably the flavor of our magic,” I said. “Obviously there is something about the abilities of a Hallow that fit this particular thinning well. We must be a good match.”
Finn paused at that, and I could see the idea settling in.
“It isn’t the handing off of the Talisman, though I’m sure that helps. It isn’t that we’re so talented or so great or whatever. Our magic is shaped the same. Or whatever it is that makes the connection between the thinning and the keeper.”
Finn was pacing beside me, keeping up since I’d started walking again.
“They know, Finn. The council has to know that. They have to be aware that the most likely fit for this thinning is another Hallow. Maybe if the Talisman were here they'd be able to hand it to someone, and it would work for them. But to call the Talisman forth—you’re going to have to have the right kind of magic.”
“So what’s their big plan then, Rue?”
“Well…if I were feeling particularly dark and vicious and wanted to keep control of the fortune that they now have, I’d probably let the little-untrained necromancer use just enough magic to call the Talisman out. And then I’d let nature take its course.”
Finn jerked me around, which made me want to hex him hard.
“Finn, if you keep manhandling me, I am going to do something dark and vicious myself."
I got that I'd infuriated him. I’d suggested his heroes were monsters. That did not, however, give him the right to lay hands on me.
Hungry Graves: A Rue Hallow Mystery Page 8