by R. L. King
“I did send it, yes. And I do apologize for all the secrecy. It must have been quite a shock for you, and I’m sorry for that, too.”
I check her out with magical sight. Her blue-green aura flashes a few red patches indicating nervousness, but nothing big. “Yes, well, you can fix a lot of that by telling me what the hell is going on. Maybe you might start by telling me who you are?”
“Let’s order first, so the server doesn’t interrupt us.” She glances at her menu.
“I’m not really hungry.” That’s not true—I haven’t had anything since the small popcorn and soda I got at the theater—but I’m not sure how much I can eat now, with my stomach doing nervous flip-flops.
“Please—just humor me, all right?” She sounds pleasant enough, and nothing about her expression sends up any red flags. “This isn’t easy for me, either. You’ll see why when I explain what’s going on.”
I sigh. Fine, she’s running the show and if I want answers I’ll have to play along. When the server returns with glasses of water and a basket of bread, I order the first thing that looks good—a small steak—and toss the menu aside. “Okay. There. I’ve ordered, and the server’s gone. So do you want to start talking?”
She studies me for a moment, but doesn’t look offended at my sharpness. I guess she’d be an idiot if she didn’t think I’d be upset. “All right,” she says finally, putting her own menu aside and folding her hands on the table. “My name is Josephine Kilgallen.”
I wait. The name means nothing to me.
“You can call me Josie—everyone does. And…I’m your aunt.”
8
I’m not sure how long I stare at her, gaping, eyes wide. Finally, I manage to sputter out, “You’re…my…”
“I know it’s a big shock.” She looks down at the table and sighs. “I’m sorry to drop all this on you. I know how it must feel.”
“I don’t think you do.” I glare at her, waving the note. “Why did you send me such a cryptic note? Why didn’t you just put all this in it in the first place? Or—I don’t know—just call me and tell me?” My voice rises a little, and I take a couple deep breaths to calm it back down. “For that matter, why wait until now? What made you think, ‘Oh, hey, she’s twenty-two years old now, why don’t I just drop a big old messy bomb right in the middle of her life’?”
Josie Kilgallen weathers my storm calmly, sitting there unmoving until I finish. Her expression is sad, almost motherly. “I know,” she says. “I don’t blame you for being angry. But will you listen to what I have to say? I promise, all of this will make more sense after you’ve heard it.”
What else can I do? I’ve come all this way—I might as well see it through. I still don’t know if I believe her, though. “Fine. Let’s hear it. And then I’ll decide what I want to do about it.”
“That’s all I can ask.”
The server drops off our salads, and Josie pauses to arrange her napkin in her lap before she speaks again. “I don’t know much about you. I’ve avoided finding out on purpose, for reasons I’ll tell you in a minute. But I do know you’re magically talented. So please feel free to use the Sight on me if it will help you believe me.”
It doesn’t surprise me that she knows. “Oh, I was planning on doing that all along. Are you, by the way?”
“Am I what?”
“Magically talented. Is that how you got in here without me seeing?”
She chuckles. “Oh, no. I don’t have a scrap of the Talent, and that’s just fine with me. I came in through the back door.”
Well. That’s unexpected. I make a ‘go on’ gesture.
“As I said, I’m your aunt. Your father’s sister.”
“Do you live here in Fairbreeze? Does he?” I look around, almost like I’m expecting to see him sitting at one of the other tables. Did I see him today? Was he the old man at Croney’s, or one of the few other people watching the movie today?
“No. We both live in a small town a few miles away—one that’s very difficult to find if you don’t have business there.”
Again I think of Encantada. I wonder how many other tiny towns there are like that, hidden away by either magic or the careful efforts of the mundane population. Still, her aura shows no signs that she’s lying, and the flutter in my stomach increases. “So…why now? Where is he? Can I meet him?”
“Yes. That’s actually why I contacted you after all these years, even though I know I shouldn’t.”
“You shouldn’t? Why? Did he not want me to know about him?”
“It’s…complicated. But in answer to your question about why now: because he’s dying.”
My whole body goes cold. “Dying?”
“Yes. He’s got a bad heart, and he’s taken a turn for the worse over the last month or so. The doctors think he only has a short time left.”
I stare at her, but my mind is far away. So my dad—the man I’ve thought all my life was my dad—wasn’t, and my real dad—my biological dad, I remind myself, since Carl was my real dad—is alive but he’s dying? “Is he…a mage?”
“Yes. But I’m sure you must know, even though mages tend to live a long time, some of them still get ill and die at younger ages. It happens. And unfortunately, it’s happened to Sebastian.”
Sebastian. That’s my father’s name. I wonder if his last name is Kilgallen too, or if that’s Josie’s married name. It doesn’t seem like the right time to ask. “So…you contacted me because…”
“Because I think you should have the chance to meet him before he goes.”
I narrow my eyes, frowning. “Why? He obviously didn’t want to meet me before. I have a father. His name was Carl Thayer, and he was as good and kind to me as any father ever. Why do I need to meet some guy who didn’t even want anything to do with me?” Once again, anger seeps into my voice, but this time I don’t do anything about it.
Josie almost reaches across the table to touch my hand, but pulls back, uncertain. “Oh, my dear, I’m so sorry about everything that’s happened. I wish it could have gone differently. But I promise you, it wasn’t your father who didn’t want to see you. He felt terrible about what happened, but his hands were tied. You see, it’s not Sebastian who refuses to let anyone acknowledge you exist. It’s his wife, Lydia.”
I almost snap at her, again, but I stop in mid-breath. “His wife. You mean…the one he cheated on with my mom.”
Josie nods soberly. “He told me all about it, a long time ago.”
“What…happened?” Suddenly, I’m not hungry anymore. I set my fork down and watch her. If she’s telling the truth, she’s my aunt—is it just my eyes playing tricks on me, or is there a slight resemblance between us? We definitely have the same dark green eyes. Does my father—Sebastian—have them too?
She looks around again, and I can’t shake the feeling that she’s nervous about somebody busting in on our private conversation. “Your father and Lydia are both wealthy, and between the two of them, they basically control the town where they live.”
“What’s the name of the town?”
“I’ll tell you that, I promise—but let me finish the story.”
I wave her on again.
“Sebastian is a handsome man, and he’s always had a bit of a wandering eye, ever since we were young. But when he and Lydia got married, he gave that all up.” She shudders. “He didn’t have a choice, honestly. Lydia is much stronger magically than he is, and she has…a very strong personality. She’s used to getting what she wants.”
“Okay, so…”
“So, he would occasionally attend gatherings of mages. Lydia didn’t like to go—she doesn’t like large groups of people, and prefers to stay closer to home. She didn’t like him going to these gatherings, but she didn’t stop him. They were much more in love in those days.”
I stare at her. “So…Sebastian met my mom at one of these gatherings?” I remember the photo from the one in England, and wonder how many of them she went to, both before and after she’d married Dad
.
“Yes. Your mother caught his eye, and they started talking. She told him she was going through a difficult time in her marriage, and…” She sighs and sips her water. “…believe me, I’m not condoning this, but both of them had too much to drink and…one thing led to another.”
“So he took advantage of my mom.” My voice drips with anger and betrayal.
Her expression goes gentle and sad. “From the way I understand it, dear, no one took advantage of anyone. Maybe you’re not old enough to know it yet, but sometimes women who are having marriage difficulties can…slip, just like men can.”
“Of course you’re going to defend him,” I snap. “He’s your brother.”
“He is. But Lydia was also a dear friend of mine. We were very close from the early days of her and Sebastian’s marriage. I think she trusted me because I’m a mundane and not a threat to her.”
“A threat?” I lean forward. “What is she, some kind of crime boss?”
She chuckles. “No, no. Nothing like that. But the Stormshadow Winery is the major employer in our little town, and she rules it—and anyone dependent on it—with a bit of an iron hand. She’s fine as long as you don’t cross her.”
“Sounds like a really great person.” I’m not sure I can fit any more contempt in a single sentence.
She swallows again. “She…isn’t. And this is where my story gets…difficult. I can only pray that you’ll forgive me for holding on to this secret for as long as I have. I don’t have any excuse other than fear.”
“What are you talking about?” I study her with magical sight again, and I’m surprised to see more red flashes around her aura. She’s definitely upset about something.
For a long time she doesn’t speak. She hasn’t touched her salad either, poking it around the dish with her fork. “Lydia, aside from all her other traits, is a very jealous woman, and she has spies everywhere in the magical community. It didn’t surprise me when she found out about what happened between Sebastian and Lenore—she probably paid someone at the gathering to keep an eye on Sebastian, because she didn’t trust him. And when the word came back to her, she was livid. I thought she was going to kill Sebastian.”
“But she didn’t, obviously.”
“No, but they separated after that, and never lived under the same roof again. She refused to divorce him—she claimed she didn’t want to give him the satisfaction—and he wouldn’t divorce her. So they lived like that, apart, each with their own concerns, for a few months.”
“What happened then?” I ask, but I’m pretty sure I already know.
“Lydia found out Lenore was pregnant.” She shudders. “And if you thought she was enraged before, it was nothing compared to how she was when she got the news.”
“But…how did she know I wasn’t my dad’s? My mom went back to him after the gathering, right?”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t put it past her to sneak someone into the hospital and check the records, or even somehow manage to get hold of some blood for a ritual test. All I know is that she was certain Lenore was pregnant with Sebastian’s baby, and she wanted to kill them both.”
“Kill them both?” I demand, shocked. “You mean my mom and Sebastian?”
“I mean your mother and her baby,” she says without looking at me. “She wanted to put a powerful curse on both of you. That was something Lydia always excelled at: curses. It’s one of the ways she keeps her employees and other people in town under her control.”
My whole body goes cold. “So…why didn’t she?”
“She did,” Josie says gently. “On your mother, at least. By then, I was the only one who could talk any sense into her. She was determined to lay her curse, but I managed to talk her into waiting until after the baby was born. I convinced her that the baby was innocent and hadn’t done anything wrong, so it wasn’t fair to punish her—you, I mean. It took a lot of persuasion, but I managed to do it. Aside from wanting to save your life, I also thought perhaps if Lydia cooled off for a few months, maybe she would let it go.”
“But she didn’t.” My chill increases as I begin to see where she’s going.
Your mother didn’t die of cancer…
She shakes her head ruefully. “No. If anything, her anger grew. She kept one of her spies on Lenore, so she knew when you were born—probably before anyone outside Lenore’s doctors and family did. It was only then that she told me she’d already prepared the curse, and now she was going to cast it. She did it by means of a bottle of wine she arranged to have delivered to the table when Lenore and her husband were out celebrating your birth. The curse was such that it would affect only Lenore, while harmless to her husband or anyone else who might drink it.”
“And you let her?” I glare at her, gripping the table and shaking. “You let her kill my mother? You let my dad think she had cancer?” I wonder, suddenly, if Mom knew all along that something else was wrong. Maybe that was the reason for the private hospital and all the secrecy: she was working with magical healers to try to break the curse, but they couldn’t do it.
“I didn’t have a choice.” She looks miserable. “What was I to do? If I defied her, she’d have killed me. You don’t understand how much control she has over our town. The police don’t dare touch her—they’re mundanes, but she has them all convinced that anyone who opposes her will meet with a terrible fate. An accident that has no way to be traced back to her. Not without knowledge of magic, anyway.”
I bow my head. “But still…you could have done something…”
“I did, dear.” Now she does touch my hand. “I saved you. But to do it, I had to make a promise: that I would never reveal my knowledge of you and where you came from to anyone. Lydia told me as long as no one—including you—ever found out about your connection to Sebastian, you would be safe from her vengeance.”
The server picks that moment to show up with our entrées. Obviously catching on that she’s not welcome, she moves the uneaten salads aside and puts a plate in front of each of us, then gets the hell out of there. I pick up my knife and half-heartedly poke at the little steak—it looks good, but I’ve never been less hungry. If I eat now, I’ll probably throw up.
“So…” I say in almost a whisper, “that’s the way it’s been all my life. You just…went on like nothing was wrong. Like this…bitch didn’t kill my mother. And Sebastian did too? Okay, if you’re a mundane maybe you couldn’t stand up to her. But he’s a mage, and he didn’t?”
“He was afraid, too.” Josie forks off a slice of her salmon and chews, but she doesn’t look any hungrier than I am. “Believe me, we discussed it, but he knew he wasn’t strong enough.” She bows her head. “He never had anything like Lydia’s power. I know he’s always been ashamed of his cowardice, but I love him and I didn’t blame him. I know what kind of difficult situation Lydia has us all in.”
I stare at my steak and toss the knife down. “So why now? You said Sebastian’s sick. So you’re risking your life to bring me here because you want him to see me before he dies?”
“Yes.” Now she is looking at me. “Sebastian and I worked it out. Lydia has been caught up with her own interests and the running of the winery—and she’s been growing more erratic and cruel over the last couple of years. If there’s any time to do it, we’ve got to do it now. We think, using your magical abilities, we can sneak you into his home long enough for you to have a short time together, and then get you out so you can leave before Lydia ever discovers you were there.”
My body feels still in my chair, like I couldn’t move if my life depended on it. “He…wants to see me.”
“He wants that more than anything else in the world. He doesn’t have much longer. Honestly, I’m not certain whether his illness is natural or if Lydia did something to hasten it along—I’ve never tried to find out, because I can’t do anything about it even if I knew, except hate her more than I already do. But Sebastian’s doctors, both magical and mundane, say nothing can be done.”
I do
n’t even know what to say. My mind jangles with emotions: anger, betrayal, hurt, sadness all spin around and knock into each other, and every time I try to have a coherent thought, one of them slams into it and drives it off course. I’m angry at Sebastian for seducing my mother, at Mom for cheating on my dad, at Lydia for being such a hellbeast about the whole thing—even at Josie, who’s only trying to tell me the truth. I want to leap out of the chair, run out of the restaurant, and drive until I can’t drive anymore. I want to call Jason, or Alastair—somebody who will understand, somebody who will listen while I rant and vent and scream.
I don’t do any of those things. Instead, I look back up at Josie. “Do it,” I say softly. “Take me to him. Let me see him. I don’t know what I’m going to say to him, but I want to see him.”
She nods, but it has a tentative quality like she isn’t sure how I’d respond. Maybe she thinks I will jump up and run away, or zap her into a pile of ashes. If she’s telling the truth—and her aura says she is—then it’s taking a lot of courage for her to do this.
“I hoped you’d say that,” she says, in the tone of someone about to cry but refusing to allow it. “Sebastian will be so glad to meet you.”
I push my plate away. “Let’s go tonight. Now. How far away is this town?”
“We can’t go tonight.” She looks worried, and glances around the room again. “It’s not safe. As I said, Lydia’s more unstable and dangerous than ever. She’ll be in meetings for most of the day tomorrow, so that’s the safest time to do it.” She rummages in her small purse and comes up with a slip of paper and a pen. “Come to my house tomorrow morning at ten a.m. Here’s the address, and directions. I’ll take you from there.”
I look at in suspicion, but I don’t see anything fishy in her aura—no more than the red stuff that indicates she’s still upset. I take the paper and stuff it in my pocket; as I do, I notice that the handwriting is the same as on the note I received. She’s telling the truth about that much, anyway: she’s the one who wrote the note.