“Crazy?”
“You have no idea.”
“It’s okay, all right? You don’t have to tell me about what happened with Bathory, and you certainly don’t have to decide all that stuff I threw at you today. It’s not worth getting sick over.”
“You are not the reason I feel sick.”
Michelle blinked at me curiously. “Then why are we out here?”
For a long time, I didn’t say anything. Thoughts swirled loose and disorganized inside my skull. I leaned my back against the wall near the door, the sound of Soleil arguing with Gertrude reminding me I was on borrowed time. “You know how I told you Rick asked me to marry him at Christmas?”
“Yeah.”
“I may have omitted part of the story.”
She raised eyebrows at me.
“He actually asked me when he was about to die.”
“What?” Michelle wrinkled her nose.
I took a deep breath. How could I explain this to her in a way she would understand? “Before our engagement, before I understood our history, I pushed Rick away. I took him for granted. He’d thought I didn’t want him anymore and sought out another witch, like me, for help. She gave him a magic candle that could have broken our connection permanently by making him human. While the candle was burning, Rick sustained injuries that would have resulted in his death. I stopped the candle before it burned all the way down, halting the magic spell and allowing Rick to recover from his temporary humanity. I agreed to marry him on the floor of his stone cottage, amid a broken ring of skulls and magic. My answer in the affirmative was the only way to end the spell and make him immortal again. My ‘yes’ saved his life.”
Michelle’s mouth dropped open and a small disgusted sound came from the back of her throat. “Are you saying he extorted marriage out of you?”
I shook my head. “No. Well … Not exactly.”
She narrowed her eyes and tipped her head, her arms crossed defensively across her ample chest.
“I love Rick.” I met her eyes and made sure she knew I was serious. “I really love Rick. To my core. And I want to marry him. I’m happy about the way things are going.”
“But?”
“Have you ever heard the expression, ‘I’m not afraid of flying; I’m afraid of crashing’?”
“I love that one. Who’s not afraid of crashing?”
“I’m not afraid of marrying Rick. I’m afraid it won’t work out. We can’t even live in the same house, Michelle. How are we going to build a life together?” I stared hopelessly at the snow-covered pavement, the cold seeping through my skin like a poison.
Michelle pondered my words for a minute, then squatted down next to me so her shoulder grazed mine. She nudged me slightly to get my attention. “You’ll figure it out. One day at a time, together.”
“Did you read that on an embroidered pillow?”
“I’m serious. If you are in love and committed, you will figure it out. People work out all sorts of arrangements. There’s a nurse in ICU who works opposite shifts as her husband and only sees him on weekends. They have two kids. They’re making it work.”
“What if it doesn’t?”
“No one promised you easy. Every couple has challenges.”
I widened my eyes at her, my jaw dropping.
“I know your challenges are a bit more … unconventional, but you are blessed to be loved, Grateful. Rick’s love for you has straddled lifetimes. Never forget that.”
With an air of gratitude, I pulled her into a tight hug.
Clangorously, the door behind us opened, and Gertrude berated me in German. I didn’t understand her words, but her gestures clearly meant, “Get inside my damn shop.” The look on Soleil’s face told me she’d done her best to detain Gertrude. I squeezed her shoulder as I re-entered the building to let her know I understood.
Slipping past Gertrude, I ducked into the changing room and checked to ensure the dress I was wearing was clean and dry, apologizing profusely while simultaneously changing out of it. Gertrude’s German chastisement rose in intensity. I’m pretty sure the small fireball of a woman was throwing me out. I hung the antique lace number on the hanger, and pressed it onto the too-full hook. The pressure knocked a dress from the back to the floor. As I bent down to pick it up, a tingle ran up my arm. I lifted the dress and turned it this way and that, checking it out in the mirror. Fashion insta-lust swept over me.
“I’ll take this one,” I said, bounding from the changing room and handing the dress to Gertrude.
“Aren’t you going to try it on?” Michelle asked.
“Gertrude will need measurements,” Soleil said.
“I’m feeling lucky. I’ll try it on at home. If I need any adjustments, I’ll call.”
Lips pursed, Gertrude shook her head. “No returns,” she said, suddenly speaking accent-free English.
I nodded. “I’ll take it.”
She rang me up in record time and zipped the dress into a vinyl bag. “Six thousand.”
“Okay.”
The girls looked at me like I was insane, and maybe I was. Who bought a six thousand-dollar wedding dress without trying it on? Me, that’s who.
I grabbed my purchase and led the way out the door. If every decision were this easy, this wedding would be a cinch. We’d just climbed into the back of Soleil’s town car when Michelle completely ruined my sense of accomplishment.
“The way you hurled in the alley earlier reminded me of when I had morning sickness with Manny Junior.” She snorted. “It’s a good thing you know you can’t be pregnant.”
CHAPTER 2
The Test
Pregnant. I could be pregnant. I trudged into my kitchen with my new dress in one hand and a Red Grove pharmacy bag in the other. The first I hung in the hall closet. The second I stared at blankly while images and incantations swirled through my brain. I attempted to make sense of the emotions brewing within me, but couldn’t sort them out.
As I stripped out of my winter clothes, my raven familiar, Poe, swept into the room on wide black wings.
“We need to speak, Witchy Woman,” Poe said. He landed on the back of the couch.
“What’s up?” I asked absently.
“Only that you have still not retrieved The Book of Light from the ghost-man Logan’s home. May I remind you once again that the rightful place for your magical grimoire is in your attic?”
“Ugh.” I tipped forward, conking my head on the kitchen island. “I know. I know. I know.” I banged my head in time with the mantra. “I keep texting him, and he’s always busy with the restaurant.”
“Perhaps pick up a phone? Get off your spell-casting ass and take back what is yours? Grow a spine and stop taking ‘later’ as an answer?”
“It’s not that easy. Logan gave me a key. Rick destroyed the key. Then, in the same conversation as I told Logan about the crushed key, I had to tell him I was engaged. I think I broke his heart.”
“More than enough reason to demand your book of magic back,” Poe insisted.
“I know. I know. I know.” Bang, bang, bang. “I’m just hoping if I give him enough time, he’ll get over it. I miss his friendship.” I straightened, scrubbing my face with my hands.
Poe scrutinized me from head to toe. “This isn’t just about The Book of Light, is it? As the kids say, what is up, buttercup? You have the pale malaise of a human suffering from the dengue.”
“I threw up this morning. Still nauseous.”
“The flu, perhaps?” Looking bored, he picked at his feathers with his beak.
I toyed with the corner of the bag on the counter. I was late. Not a lot late. Just about a week. “Can I ask you something?”
Poe shrugged his bird shoulders. “You can ask. I can’t guarantee an answer.”
“Do you think … with the candle Rick used … Do you think he was human? Like entirely human?”
“At the end? When you saved him?” Poe asked.
I nodded.
“As close to h
uman as he could be. He was dying. If you hadn’t put out the candle, you’d be up witch creek without a paddle.”
The bag rumpled and ripped as I pulled it open and removed the pregnancy test.
“Bloody hell! You think you’re pregnant!” Poe covered his beak with one wing.
Mouth gaping like a fish, I tapped the package down on the counter. “I don’t know. I mean, I hope not. I haven’t been on birth control since Gary, and Rick and I definitely did the sexual healing thing when he was human-like.” I raised both eyebrows. “Plus, I’m late and perpetually nauseous.”
“You said it yourself. Human-like. Not fully human.” Poe gave a cynical snort. “The chances are …”
I furrowed my brow as I stripped out of my puffy white parka. “What, Poe? You know nothing about the magic of that candle. Are you going to babble off some made-up statistic about the chances I could be preggers? I’ll save you the trouble. It doesn’t matter if it’s one percent or ninety percent, I’m peeing on this stick.”
Smugly, I marched into the guest bathroom. I was in there all of thirty seconds before I realized I never used the guest bathroom and marched back out. No toilet paper. With an indignant swagger, I jogged up the stairs to the bathroom off my bedroom, tearing into the box on the way. I tossed the package in my overflowing trash can.
What if I was pregnant? How could I raise a baby when I couldn’t even empty my own trash or keep toilet paper in my guest bathroom? Michelle made her own baby food from organic produce. I could barely make a sandwich.
“Please don’t let me be pregnant. Please don’t let me be pregnant,” I chanted as I took the test. I placed it on the back of the toilet while I washed my hands. Two minutes. Two minutes until I would know for sure if my life was over.
Into my bedroom I paced, heart thumping and mind racing. If I were pregnant, I’d have to keep the baby. This would be my only chance to ever have a child with Rick. Would the kid be normal? I was a witch. I had magic in my blood. What if the baby was born with horn stubs? Would electric lights flicker when it cried?
Poe flapped into the room and landed on my dresser. “By the goddess, breathe into a bag or something. You’re going to give yourself an aneurism.”
I laughed and wiped away the tears in residence on my cheeks. “What are you talking about?” Poe couldn’t read my mind, but familiars, by nature, were intuitive of their witch’s feelings. It bothered me a little that I couldn’t hide what a mess I was about this from him.
“Whatever the outcome, it won’t help the situation to have a magical meltdown. In the time I’ve known you, my worrying witch, in this life and the last, you’ve been uniquely adaptable.”
“Adaptable. Not nurturing or intelligent. Not … parental.”
“No one is parental until they become parents. But you’ve become a great witch in just a few weeks. You could become parental if you had to. You are … resourceful.”
I plopped down on my bed. “I could learn to cook.”
“Or hire a cook,” Poe said under his breath.
My line of sight followed the trail of clothes on the floor to the dust on my dresser. “Also, someone to clean.” Rick had money thanks to some wise investments in the early 1900’s. What better use for it than improving his child’s environment?
“Exactly. If by some miracle you are ‘preggers,’ as you say, you shall overcome.” He blinked at me slowly.
I nodded, relaxing a little.
Poe rolled his eyes toward the ceiling. “It would, of course, be helpful if we knew the nature of the candle Rick used. What did he tell you about the source?”
“Nothing. Every time I mention it, he puts me off. On his deathbed he told me it came from Salem’s Hecate, but whenever I ask for details, he changes the subject.”
“Hmm. I’m afraid Salem’s Witch has a reputation that precedes her.” Poe narrowed his eyes like he was trying to choose his words carefully.
“Spill it.” My demand went unanswered when the timer on my phone chimed. I tapped the screen to stop the alarm. “Hold that thought. Time to learn if I have a bun in the oven.”
On shaky legs, I traversed the formidable space between my bed and the toilet. Lifting the test from the porcelain with both hands, my eyes focused on the little round plastic window. One line for not pregnant, two lines for pregnant. Simple. I blinked. Blinked again. Then, I tossed it in the garbage. It rolled off the top of the heap and clanked on the floor.
“Well?” Poe asked.
“You were right. Not preggers. Probably the flu.”
“Ah. All is well then.” He bobbed his head joyfully.
“Yeah.” My spacey gaze found the gnarled branch of the oak tree outside my window. “Hey, Poe, I was up really late last night and I’m still not feeling the best. I think I’m going to lie down. Do you need me to let you out?”
“No. I’ve been using the flap in the attic window.”
I groaned. He’d shattered a glass pane a few weeks ago, and I’d never replaced it. What was the point? He needed a way to go in and out during the day and the flap of plastic worked. I had more important worries, even if it did mean my heating bill was atrocious.
“I’m going to take a nap,” I said. I removed my sweater and leaned Nightshade against the corner near my closet.
A raven’s eyes are beady and black, but Poe’s brimmed with pity. He transformed into a small black dog and curled up on the braided rug in front of my bed. Instinctively, I knew he wouldn’t leave until I was asleep. Poe could be a pain in the ass, but he was a good familiar.
As I climbed under my quilt and began to shed new tears, I took comfort in Poe’s understanding presence. I’d just lost my last chance at a real family. For as much as I didn’t want the test to be positive, at the moment, the negative was far, far worse. I closed my eyes, and slipped off to sleep, trying my best to forget losing the precious thing I’d never even had.
* * * * *
“Mi cielo? Mi cielo?” Rick’s voice brought me out of a deep slumber, his hand rubbing my shoulder gently as he perched on the side of my bed. Maybe I was getting sick. Everything felt heavy. My body pressed into the mattress like I’d gained four hundred pounds. I struggled to shake the paralysis of sleep from my limbs.
“Hi.” With some effort, I rolled onto my back so I could see him better. Black wavy hair that curled below his ears, gray eyes, full lips. Even exhausted and flu-ridden, the sight of him lit my fire. “What are you doing here?”
“I fixed your window.”
“You fixed my window?”
“The one in the attic. I installed a pet door for Poe.”
From the direction of the dresser came an offended caw. Poe was bird-shaped again. “Veritably, I am not a pet,” he said.
Rick turned toward me so only I could see him roll his eyes. “They were all out of doors specifically for magical familiars,” he said under his breath.
“Thank you,” I said. “My heating bill has been ridonkulous lately.”
“I began to worry when you did not wake. My work wasn’t quiet.”
I glanced toward the window. Late afternoon daylight streamed in, casting light against the far wall. I tapped my phone on the nightstand. Four o’clock. “Sorry. I’m not feeling well.”
He placed a palm on my forehead, the tips of his fingers brushing my hair. “Do you need blood?” His wrist hovered in front of my lips.
“No.” I threaded my fingers into his and lowered his offered arm to my chest. “Just tired, and I was nauseous this morning. I’m better now though.”
“I discovered something on your bathroom floor.” From my bedside table, he lifted the pregnancy test. “Can you explain this?” The concern in his voice tugged at my heartstrings. I hadn’t intended to tell him about this afternoon, but I felt the truth press against the inside of my teeth, an unrelieved pressure. After all we’d been through, why keep secrets?
“I thought I might be pregnant with your baby,” I blurted. The confession slammed awkw
ardly into the space between us.
The corners of his mouth twitched, and his eyes crinkled at the corners. “Mi cielo, I explained to you, I am unable to produce children. Immortals are sterile,” he said kindly. He brushed my hair back from my face.
“The candle made you human. Maybe not completely, but I thought, maybe …” The waterworks started again, and I turned my face away.
He placed a finger under my chin and returned my gaze to his. “You wanted to be pregnant?”
I sighed. Sitting up, I tried to put it into words. “Not really. Not initially anyway. But then I started to think about it. Now is not the best time, but when is? I just feel like I missed our only chance.”
“If it is important to you, we can explore alternatives once we are married. Although, I beseech you to consider the inevitable hardships of raising a human child. We will live forever. Our child will not.”
His point wasn’t lost on me. Still, I picked at the corner of the quilt. “I was thinking, what if we bought another candle.” I shrugged. “When we are ready, we could try again. We could make you human temporarily. I could use magic to improve our odds.”
His face fell. “No.”
“Why not?”
“I cannot obtain another.” Eyes shifting away from me, he moved to stand.
“Why not?” I demanded.
With a groan, he placed his hands on his hips and shook his head. “Isn’t it enough to adopt? Perhaps a supernatural infant?”
I shook my head. “Don’t change the subject. Why can’t we get another candle?” I gave him my strongest I-will-not-let-this-go look.
He sighed. “Will you walk with me? The story is not a simple one.”
I nodded. “Give me a minute.”
Ten minutes later, hair and teeth brushed properly for the first time all day, I wrapped myself up in my puffy white snowman parka and followed Rick into the woods across from my house. A thick layer of snow crunched beneath our boots as we wound between the dormant trees. The sky above was gray but bright. I couldn’t see the sun behind the clouds.
“I need to tell you about the candle,” Rick began. “When I saw you kiss Logan—”
Queen of The Hill (Knight Games) Page 2