Veiled Menace

by Deborah Blake

  Gabriella and Lucia exchanged smug glances. They had been among the youngest students in their Witch School classes to graduate with honors.

  “Is that so?” Celestina said, her tone even. “Then perhaps Donata would like to give us a little demonstration of her hypothetical new skills.” Her eyes took on a predatory gleam.

  Donata swallowed hard, and the cinders of lamb in her stomach transmuted into a ball of fire. It was difficult enough to get her new talents to work in the relaxed atmosphere of her aunt’s workshop with only an annoying parrot to worry about. She wasn’t at all sure she could get them to function in the lofty, high-pressure environment of her parents’ condo. At the dinner table. With everyone staring at her.

  Unfortunately, Tatiana didn’t seem to have the same qualms.

  “Why not?” the old woman said. She turned to Donata, who was sitting between her elderly aunt and little Sophia. “You’ve gotten quite good at psychometry. Why don’t you show them a bit of that?” She smiled reassuringly.

  Donata was not reassured. “Um, I suppose I could try,” she said. She took a gulp of wine to try to put out the fire, but it only added an acidic churning to her already unsettled belly. Damn, why did she come to these horrible dinners? She’d be better off in a stinking alley, calling a crabby destruction goddess.

  Her mother gave a wide smile, showing a mouthful of straight white teeth. “Wonderful,” she said. “Why don’t you do that?” She paused and put one finger to her lips, as if she had just come up with an unexpected brainstorm. “In fact, why don’t we put a little wager on it?”

  The roaring flames inside Donata’s stomach turned to ice.

  “What kind of a wager, Mother?” Something told her she wasn’t going to like the answer.

  Celestina tapped her finger against her full red lips. “You and your aunt seem so certain that all this time you’ve spent practicing with the family book will somehow make you better at your current job.” She narrowed her eyes at her youngest daughter, challenging her to back down. “So why don’t we say that if you can demonstrate some new skill, I’ll stop questioning your choice of career and wait to see if you are, in fact, correct.” Her tone made it clear that she felt this was unlikely.

  Donata’s heart beat faster. She’d pay a month’s salary for a break from the incessant criticism over her job. But she knew there had to be a catch.

  “And if I can’t show you a new magical ability?” she asked, bracing herself.

  Her mother’s smile widened, reminding Donata of a shark closing in on its prey.

  “Well, then, dear, you’ll admit that you were wrong, give up this silliness with the book, and take the job at Ezra Phelps’ legal firm.” Celestina took a dainty sip of wine.

  “What do you say, Donata? Do we have a wager?”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  Donata gritted her teeth and looked at the motley collection of items on the table in front of her. She was so screwed.

  She still didn’t understand exactly how she’d allowed herself to be maneuvered into this corner. Now her job was riding on her ability to work this still-new-to-her kind of magic, and everyone except Tatiana and Sophia was watching her eagerly and waiting for her to fail. Her great-aunt seemed calm and confident enough for both of them, which was a good thing.

  It was rather ironic, really—six months ago, she was on the verge of quitting anyway, and now she wanted more than anything to meet the new challenges the Chief had given her. And she might lose it all because she couldn’t back down from a stupid bet with her mother. She was really going to have to stop coming to these damn dinners.

  Donata wiped her suddenly damp hands on her skirt under the cover of the table and put out one fingertip to gingerly poke at the various objects in front of her. Her mother had dragged all the adults except Donata and Tatiana into her bedroom and had them each contribute something so Donata wouldn’t be able to guess who any particular item belonged to. Now she was supposed to hold each one and tell the assembled group something about the person who owned it.

  Deep breaths. Focus.

  She reached out and picked up a handkerchief. White cotton, nothing about it to say whether it belonged to a man or a woman. No initials. No hints. So either she tapped into a magical gift for the answer or took a wild guess. And there was too much riding on it for that.

  She closed her eyes and tried to shut out the worry and the fear. Reached down to the earth to ground herself and up to the sky for clarity. Took another deep breath. Out, then in again. Remembered the instructions in Great-great-great-grandmother Henrietta’s book. Felt the cloth in her hands and tried to sense something deeper, woven into the fabric through constant use. Asked the goddess for help, and opened her eyes.

  Everyone stared at her. Her mother and her sisters looked smug; confident that she would be unsuccessful. Her brothers-in-law looked interested and her nieces looked bored. Tatiana was the only relaxed one at the table, nibbling a biscotti and sipping a cup of herbal tea.

  “Well?” her mother asked.

  Donata closed her eyes again, reaching inside herself for that little voice that whispers the unknowable.

  “I’m getting something about cats,” she said.

  Her mother looked triumphant. Donata was the only one in the family who had a cat; her mother didn’t like the mess they made, Lucia thought they were unhygenic, and William was allergic.

  “Really, dear? That seems . . . unlikely.” Celestina smiled, not unkindly. “Try not to feel bad about it. Psychometry isn’t in everyone’s skill set. Even I’m not very good at it.”

  Donata shook her head. “I’m not done, Mother.” She pushed the handkerchief toward William. “Did you come into contact with someone who owned cats, maybe earlier today? I got a quick picture of you sneezing a lot.”

  His eyes widened as he reclaimed the cloth. “Yes, actually, I did. One of the supply reps who came to the company this morning has five cats. I always have a heck of a time when he comes in.” William looked at her with something like awe. “That was amazing.”

  Gabriella scowled at her husband. “Oh, please. It was probably a lucky guess. Everyone knows you’re allergic to cats. It makes sense that the handkerchief would belong to you.”

  She looked at the pile still sitting in the middle of the table and pushed a simple silver ring in Donata’s direction.

  “Here,” Gabriella said. “Let’s see how you do with something a little more difficult.”

  Donata picked up the ring and looked at it curiously. She’d never seen it before, and it didn’t look like either her mother or her sisters’ style. But it was too small to fit John, her other brother-in-law, so it must belong to one of them. Interesting.

  The ring had a wide band, carved with flowers. It could have been made of silver, or possibly white gold, Donata couldn’t tell. When she closed her fingers around the ring, it warmed with the heat of her hand. She closed her eyes.

  Nothing.

  Donata felt her heartbeat speed up and tried again.

  Still nothing.

  She moistened her dry lips and hoped that her panic didn’t show on her face. Could it be some kind of trick? Could her mother have found a ring that didn’t belong to anyone and put it in the pile to trip her up? But no, that didn’t make sense; what would such a thing be doing in the condo? Maybe it just hadn’t been worn for a long time.

  Donata took another deep breath and centered herself. Psychometry and other forms of psychic work required a calm and unemotional state on the part of the Witch doing them. She had to let go of her fear and just see.

  After a long, nerve-racking minute, she finally started picking up something from the ring. Now that her own emotions were out of the way, she could tune in on . . . sorrow. Profound, bottomless sorrow, as bad as any she had ever felt. Tears. Lots of tears, and the sound of ragged sobbing seemed to fill her ears
, although the room around her was still silent.

  There was a strong sense of loss; cutting so deep she thought her heart would stop from the agony of it. Empty arms. Empty heart. Empty soul.

  She opened her eyes to find tears streaming down her cheeks and looked across the table at her mother, the ring dropping out of numb fingers.

  “Why didn’t you tell me you’d lost a child?” Donata asked, her voice hoarse. “When did it happen?” She couldn’t believe her dispassionate and controlled mother had ever experienced the gut-wrenching emotions caught by the tiny piece of jewelry.

  A look of shock replaced the smugness on Celestina’s face and her glance dropped to the tabletop. A quick look at Gabriella and Lucia told Donata that her stunning revelation had come as no surprise to them, although their husbands looked confused and concerned.

  “Mother?” she said softly, reaching out to touch her hand.

  Celestina straightened up, moving her hand away and regaining her usual poise with a visible effort. “It was before you were born,” she said, her shoulders rigid. “In between Lucia’s birth and yours. The child was stillborn. It seems to run in your father’s family, for some reason. All the Santori women, and most of the women who marry Santori men, have issues with unsuccessful pregnancies. But when I had no problems carrying your sisters, we thought we were safe. Turned out we were wrong.” She swallowed hard. “We almost didn’t try again, after that.”

  Donata’s stomach spasmed and she clenched her hands into tight fists. She shot a fiery look at both her sisters. “And nobody thought it might be important to tell me this, in case I ever decided to have children?”

  Lucia shook her head. “Gaby and I were both okay—although I have to tell you, I held my breath for the entire nine months. We figured it was some genetic hiccup that was finally wearing off through successive generations of Santoris.” She looked guilty. “We would probably have told you if you ever ended up in a serious relationship.”

  Probably. That was just great. Donata took a deep breath. “Mother, you said it happened before I was born. How long before?”

  She’d always wondered about the eight year gap between her and Gabriella, but assumed it was something her parents had done deliberately. Or maybe even that she was an unplanned “oops” baby. She’d never even considered that her mother might have had—and lost—another child in between.

  “A year,” her mother said through white lips. “I was . . . I had a difficult time . . . after.” She picked up the ring from the middle of the table, turning it around and around in her fingers. “Your father gave me this ring when I got pregnant with that baby. It was supposed to have a protection charm in it for expectant mothers. I never took it off. But it didn’t work. And as soon as the swelling in my hands went down enough for me to remove it . . . after . . . I put it in a drawer and never wore it again.” She got up from the table jerkily, lacking her usual grace. “I’ll just go put it away now.”

  Donata watched her mother walk away with her back straight and her head held high. How had she never known about this?

  “Donata,” Lucia said, her tone gentler than usual. “You have to understand; Mother was devastated after the baby was stillborn. She was horribly depressed. Dad insisted on trying to have another child right away; I think he thought it would snap her out of it. And it did—in a way. She got very cool and efficient, and dealt with the pregnancy and with the new baby—you—as if nothing bad had ever happened. But she locked away a lot of her heart, I think, and never took it out again. She couldn’t risk feeling that kind of grief.”

  Donata blinked back hot tears. The information didn’t make her feel better, exactly, but at least it explained some things. And made it clear that it hadn’t been her fault. That her mother hadn’t loved her less than she loved Lucia and Gabriella because Donata wasn’t good enough; something in Celestina had just been broken by the loss of that child and Donata had paid the price. It wasn’t fair, but it was understandable.

  She’d never look at her mother the same way again, that much was certain.

  And now she had yet another reason to be freaked out by the dreams about babies too. Terrific. Just terrific.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  By the time Celestina came back out, everyone had moved to the living room. Lucia had pulled out her knitting and was working away at something blue and fluffy, needles clicking rhythmically, as she kept a cautious eye on Sophia, her crayons, and the spotless white rug. Over by the large picture window with its elegant taupe raw-silk curtains, John talked on his cell phone to someone about business. Behind him, a sudden storm battered the city, casting the room into an untimely darkness.

  Gabriella and William sat on one end of the sectional with Donata, having an astonishingly civilized conversation. Great-Aunt Tatiana was explaining psychometry to the twins, who suddenly found it much more fascinating. They all looked up and stopped talking when Celestina reentered the room.

  Pale but composed, she waved a slim hand at them. “Oh, please, darlings, don’t let’s make a fuss.” She walked over and perched on one edge of the couch, clearly determined to ignore everything that had happened previously. “So, what are we all talking about?”

  Lucia put down her knitting and went into the kitchen, coming back with a cup of coffee thick with cream, just the way her mother liked it.

  “William was just asking Donata about her new duties,” she said with a straight face, picking up her knitting again. Actually, they’d been discussing some new stocks that Gabriella recommended. Like Donata had money to put into the stock market.

  Donata shot her middle sister an evil look. Lucia just grinned down at the pile of yarn in her lap. Troublemaker.

  “We weren’t, really, Mother,” Donata said. “We were talking about—”

  Celestina arched one precisely plucked eyebrow. “I am quite interested in hearing about your job, Donata,” she said. She seemed to be in earnest. “Clearly, something has changed in the last six months to motivate you to finally apply yourself to learning more magical skills. I find myself . . . intrigued.” She settled herself into her seat, took a sip of coffee, and waited.

  Bloody hell in winter. Now what was she supposed to do?

  Donata cleared her throat, looking at both of her sisters for help.

  Gabriella smiled sweetly. “Yes, Donata, do tell us what this fascinating new position entails. We’re all ears.”

  Donata cast around wildly for some spell she knew that would make that literal. It would serve her sister right. Sadly, she didn’t seem to know a Dumbo spell. Drat. Never. Coming. To. Family. Dinner. Again.

  “Well,” she said, not sure where to begin. “It isn’t really a new position. More like an unofficial extension of my current job duties. It’s complicated.”

  Celestina allowed a tiny frown to wrinkle her brow. “Yes, you said that before. What do you mean, ‘unofficial’?”

  “It started after that business six months ago with the Pentacle Pentimento,” Donata said. Suddenly, it got very quiet.

  Gabriella jerked her head toward the twins and scowled.

  “Er, the painting. You know.” Donata corrected quickly. “Anyway, my boss, Chief O’Malley, came to me and asked if I would be willing to work with him on cases where there was some indication that there might be paranormal involvement. Cases that a regular cop might not be able to solve. I thought it sounded like an interesting challenge, so I said yes.” She didn’t add out loud, and I was so burned out from being a Witness Retrieval Specialist, I would have jumped at the chance to do anything meaningful.

  Gabriella’s eyes widened. “Wait—isn’t your Chief a Human? How did he know there were Paranormal races other than Witches?” She gave Donata a suspicious look. “You didn’t tell him, did you?”

  “Oh, for Hecate’s sake, Gaby. Of course I didn’t tell him.” Donata glared at her sister. “He’s a go
od cop, and he’s been on the job a long time. He figured it out for himself. And as far as I can tell, he hasn’t said anything to anyone else. But he knew there were elements to some crimes that he couldn’t explain, so he was looking for someone on the force who might have a more . . . specialized . . . expertise.”

  “And he asked you?” Lucia said with a dubious expression. Her needles clacked against each other as if moving on their own.

  “Yes, he did,” Donata said dryly. “Shocking though that might be. Apparently something about how I handled”—she glanced at the girls, still talking animatedly with Tatiana and ignoring the rest of the adults—“that other matter last spring . . . caught his notice. I’ve been working on the occasional ‘unusual’ case ever since.”

  Celestina put her coffee cup down on a marble coaster, looking, as she had said, intrigued. She might no longer be actively involved in Paranormal government, but at one point she’d held an influential position in the Alliance Council hierarchy, and the potential interaction between Human justice and Paranormal criminals was an issue she couldn’t ignore.

  “And have you come across many crimes you believe to have been perpetrated by Paranormal races of one kind or another?” Celestina asked. “Such things are normally quite rare, due to the penalties involved.”

  That was something of an understatement, of course. The Council took a very dim view of any actions that might draw the attention of the Catholic Church, or in any way threaten to expose the non-Witch races to the Human population. There was little leeway in Paranormal justice, and not much mercy.

  Donata shook her head. “When I first started out, there were only one or two. But in the last couple of months, they seem to be popping up with frightening regularity. I’m not sure if it is happening more often, or if the Chief and I are just getting better at spotting them.”