by Larissa May
“Yes. Thank you,” I said, finding my breath as well. The need to find my parents had gone from a panicked, restless feeling to a constant ache, burning steadily through my heart and brain and muscles.
“It’s just that . . .” Shelley paused.
“What are you trying to tell me?”
She reddened. “I kind of like someone else. Leading Ion on seems mean, but if it’s necessary, I’ll do it.”
“I don’t think it’ll be necessary,” I said quickly. I didn’t want to keep asking people to make sacrifices on my behalf, no matter how seemingly trivial. Shelley and I opened the door to the sixth floor. Surprisingly, it was tastefully decorated, with a plush, cream-colored rug and French-blue doors. As we headed for 6A, my mind couldn’t help but drift to Shelley’s crush. “Are you going to tell me?” I asked before we knocked.
“It’s Vadim,” she admitted in a low voice. “He’s not my usual type. I mean, he’s rude and doesn’t talk much and always looks like life is kind of a chore. But one day he was fixing my bicycle, and there was something in the way he was moving. It was so confident. Weird, huh?”
I thought about the hypnotic smell of cinnamon and cloves, and the effect it had on me. “Not so weird.”
Someone walked across a hardwood floor in 6A.
We fluffed our hair, plastered on some smiles, and knocked on the door.
Ion answered. His mouth opened and closed like a dying fish. “What are you doing here?” he asked. “I mean, hi! I hoped you’d come over, but you said you were busy.”
Ion babbled just as much as Shelley when she was nervous. Maybe he was a better match than Vadim.
“Can we come in?” I asked.
“Yes! Yes, of course.” Ion shuffled us into the foyer. “My room’s kind of a mess,” he said apologetically, “but we could talk here.” He gestured to the most beautiful living room I’d ever seen.
It was sunken, two steps down from a marbled ridge leading to a sweeping balcony. A white rug—the kind that always looked new—covered most of the distressed wood floors. A modern, black leather sectional ran the length of room, and could probably have seated twelve comfortably. Oversized paper lanterns hung from the ceiling, providing flattering lighting for the woman who sat in the middle of the dark sofa like a single star in the night sky. Chopsticks held her white-blond hair into a twist, and she wore a crimson kimono wrapped around her slender body. Her ruby talisman lay at the base of her neck like blood on snow.
“Hello again, girls,” Seralina said acidly. “What brings you to the Moonstone?”
“They came to see me,” Ion said, but I heard doubt in his voice.
She smiled at him, her lipsticked mouth stretching across her face. “Don’t be ridiculous, darling. I know why these girls are here.”
Ion looked at Shelley beseechingly.
“I’m here to see you,” she said. “Would you like to show me the view? It looks amazing.”
They’d just closed the glass doors to the balcony behind them when Seralina said, “Did Evie send you to deliver my order? I placed it nearly a week ago.”
“That’s not why I’m here.”
She tossed me a skeptical look. “Even so, you tell your aunt I will pay her when she completes a project, not a second before. That woman takes forever to split a diamond.”
I sat on the edge of the couch, far enough away from Seralina to give myself the opportunity to escape, close enough to see some worry lines etched into her alabaster skin. “You don’t trust her?”
“No,” she snapped. “I don’t trust anyone.”
“Neither do I,” I lied. “But I’m willing to trust you.”
She narrowed her eyes. “What do you mean?”
“I’d like you to complete the reading you started in Sandy’s apartment.”
“You left quickly enough. Did I frighten you?” The corner of her mouth lifted as she fought a smile. She liked the idea of having such an effect.
“Yes,” I said. “That’s why I left. I’m sorry if I was disrespectful.”
“Well, I can’t simply pick up where I left off. I’m not an unfinished chess game one leaves on a dining-room table.” She reached into the pocket of her kimono and pulled out her ornate tarot cards. “I must say I am curious, but I’ll need to give you an entirely new reading. I only had time for the present, past, and future the other night. That is the heart of the story, but not the whole story.”
Seralina held the cards in her hand and looked at me expectantly.
“Could we get started?” I asked.
“Information is currency, young lady, so what am I going to learn about you that will make this worth my while?”
I racked my brain, trying to come up with something of interest to her. With only a second’s hesitation, I threw Evie under the bus. I figured she’d understand. “Since Evie is my aunt, my reading may reveal something about her.”
“Why would I care?”
“If she is going to be a member of your coven, shouldn’t you know everything about her?”
Seralina snorted—an indelicate sound coming from such a delicate person. “An alchemist and a Romani in the same coven? Are you insane?”
I frowned, miffed on Evie’s behalf.
“Ah,” she said, “you’ve been talking to Sandy. That daffy witch has cotton candy for brains.”
I still felt a surge of pity for Sandy and her attempt to create a true home. “Have you told her yet?” I asked, unable to wash the disapproval from my tone.
Seralina shrugged. “She knows I haven’t broken the oath with my coven, as much as I’d like to.”
I wondered what a Romani coven was like. I couldn’t visualize it, but I was pretty certain they didn’t practice witchcraft in Birkenstocks and hemp T-shirts like mine had. “So Sandy still assumes her dream coven is a possibility?”
“I suppose.” Seralina bent over the coffee table and slid open a hidden drawer. From it she pulled frankincense resin and a few pillar candles of the deepest indigo. She lit the candles and then the resin, filling the space with a pungent, heavy odor. “If we’re going to do this, let’s do it. We’ll just say you owe me one.”
Being in debt to Seralina was not exactly ideal, but it was a sacrifice I was willing to make. I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to use the smell as a steadying influence. Then I took a breath, knowing what was coming but not fearing it quite as much.
Seralina shuffled the cards and placed the deck in front of me. “Cut,” she said.
Simply placing my hands on the ancient cards sent a jolt up my arm as though I’d touched a live wire. I bit my tongue, waiting for it to pass. Seralina watched me carefully. “Ask your question. Concentrate on it. Let the words flow through your body.”
Where is Gavin?
She peeled off three cards and placed them in a line, facedown. One by one, she turned them over. Betrayal. Ignorance. Death.
My stomach flipped, but Seralina remained unruffled by the ominous message. “Same old, same old,” she said. “Someone really did a number on you. Who was it? Do you know yet?”
I shook my head, not trusting my voice. The magic pulsed within me. If felt different from before—stronger but more connected to my breath, my heartbeat, the blood coursing through my veins.
Seralina began to lay cards down around the three at the center, and then formed a staff beside the circle.
“A Celtic cross,” I whispered.
“It’s going to tell us your story,” she said, her black eyes glowing like hot coals. “There is so much to learn.”
She studied the configuration for a moment. Her mouth began to harden, and the faint bit of color she had in her cheeks drained away. “This can’t be right,” she muttered, and picked up the deck to reshuffle. She laid the cards again to the same outcome.
“Who are you?” she demanded, grabbing my hands. “The center is yours but the rest are mine. I did the same reading earlier.”
I tried to yank my hands away from her but
she held fast. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” I said.
“I’m going to ask you again,” she said, her voice holding an unspoken threat. “Who in the hell are you?”
“Breeda Fergus.”
“You’re looking for him, too, aren’t you, Breeda Fergus?” She clutched harder, her nails digging into my skin. “The question is, have you found him yet?”
The magic leapt within me, fear and anger prodding it to act. “Please release me,” I begged.
“You will tell me!” she shouted.
The last bit of hold I had on the magic broke. I felt a rush and the flames lifted from the candles, gathering into balls of fire. They careened wildly around the room, my control completely gone.
Seralina dropped my hands and screamed, covering her face. I tried to focus, tried to ignore the knifelike pains stabbing at my lungs, but I couldn’t. My limbs went numb and I fell forward, hitting the coffee table with a thud and sliding onto the pristine white carpet.
“Let it go, Breeda.” Shelley’s voice. She stood on the marble platform, her right hand grasping her talisman. Ion’s gaze darted about, following the smoky trails left by the ricocheting balls of fire.
“Clear your mind,” Shelley said, her voice oddly calm. “Please. I can’t fight you.”
I couldn’t do what she’d asked. Images stampeded through my brain like a herd of wild bulls. I caught one— my mother singing while she did the spring planting—and held it, living in the peaceful slice of my past for one brief, glorious moment.
“That’s it,” Shelley said. The flames separated, hovering for a moment before returning to the candles. Tendrils of smoke wafted toward the open balcony door and disappeared into the late-morning breeze.
I took in the shocked faces around me. “I’m sorry. I really am.”
“Don’t be,” Seralina retorted after composing herself. “At least now I know you aren’t totally defenseless against Gavin.”
I glanced at Shelley, whose mouth dropped open like a hatch door. With difficulty, I forced myself to focus on the tarot cards. “So you’re after Gavin, too?”
Seralina nodded. “For some time now.”
Ion slammed the door to the balcony shut. “Why does he have to ruin everything?” he asked his mother. “Why is he punishing me?”
“Because he only thinks of himself,” Seralina answered coldly. “You know that.”
“Ion?” Shelley asked, saying his name gently. “What’s going on?”
“My father is an asshole,” Ion answered, his voice cracking. “Which is why I can’t transition.”
“I’m confused,” I said. “Could you explain—”
“We can,” Ion said. “But only after you tell us how you sent that fire flying around without touching your talisman.”
All eyes froze on the useless stone hanging from my neck.
Seralina smoothed down her kimono. “Darling,” she said, turning her intense gaze to me, “we obviously have a lot to discuss.”
CHAPTER 27
“Point me toward the kitchen,” Shelley said quickly. “I need to make her a tisane.”
“I’ll show you where it is,” Ion said. “Not that I could help you with anything, being totally useless and all. I’m like a witch eunuch, an empty—”
“You are acting like a child,” Seralina said sharply. “Just take her to the kitchen.”
Ion led Shelley down a narrow passageway at the far end of the room. He looked back at me before they disappeared into the depths of the apartment, disappointment marring his features. Oh, you don’t know the half of it, I thought. But then, I didn’t know any of it. Was Ion really Gavin’s son? Did Brandon have a brother? Did he know?
I pushed myself up, using the coffee table for support. Seralina watched me struggle, a faint trace of disgust in the set of her mouth. This woman did not like weakness.
“Can you manage?” she asked, but sat back on the sofa without extending her hand. I forced my muscles to exert themselves, and slid myself next to her on the couch. The magic stirring in me shifted course, filtering from my lungs to the rest of my body, scratching at my nerves.
“How did you know to come here?” It hurt to speak, but I didn’t want Seralina to be the one steering the conversation. “Why are you looking for him?”
“The cards sent me here,” she replied matter-of-factly. “What’s your reason?”
Shelley returned before I had to answer, walking quickly but carefully as she carried a steaming mug across the wood floor. Ion trailed her, his eyes angry. “I had to microwave the water to save time,” Shelley said. “Not the best scenario, but drink up, buttercup!”
The warm mug soothed my trembling hands. I took a drink, then another, letting the tisane work its way through my system. The pulsing weakened its hold on my lungs.
While I recovered, Seralina appraised her son, taking in his clenched fists and locked jaw. “The sun is lovely today, Ion. It might make you feel better about the state of things if you sat on the patio and took it in.”
It seemed like less of a suggestion and more of an order, but Ion didn’t move. “I think I’ll stay here.”
I caught Shelley’s eye and gave a slight nod. “It does look very nice,” she said, smiling brightly at him. “I wouldn’t mind taking in the sun for a while, after all this craziness. What do you say?”
Ion glanced at his mother under a canopy of dark, floppy hair. “I guess,” he mumbled, and abruptly turned on his heel and grabbed Shelley’s hand. I watched through the glass as they settled into a pair of Adirondack chairs, facing each other.
Seralina cleared her throat. “Well?”
I didn’t say anything. I’d spent the past few days feeling at a constant disadvantage. Everyone knew more than I did, forcing me to piece things together on the fly. I wanted her to talk first. I picked up my cooling tisane and took a few tiny sips.
“I’m waiting,” Seralina said, in a voice that told me she wasn’t used to waiting for anything.
I watched Shelley gesticulating wildly as she explained something to Ion. Her hands flew over her head and jabbed at the air. Ion laughed, his face visibly relaxing. I took a few more sips.
Seralina sighed. “Fine. I’ll take the first round. If I tell you my story, do you give me your word you will reciprocate?”
“On my honor.”
“You’ve just bound yourself to the act, Breeda Fergus. You understand, correct?”
“I do,” I promised, my exasperation growing. “Now would you please tell me why you’re here and looking for Gavin?”
“I want him to stop whatever nonsense he’s up to so Ion can transition.”
“What do you mean?”
“Gavin is my husband, and Ion’s father,” she began.
I tried to wrap my brain around that, to see past Ion’s dark hair and pale skin. Was there a resemblance? His height . . . the way he held his head, tilted slightly to the side, reminded me of Brandon. Wait . . . was this woman his mother?
I took in her blond hair, her high cheekbones. The resemblance to Brandon was subtle but there. And what about your older son? I thought. I knew I should keep quiet, but my temper flared. “Did you leave Brandon willingly? Isn’t he also your son?”
Seralina went totally still, save a tiny twitch at the corner of her crimson lips. When I refused to break my stare, she straightened her shoulders as if she’d made an internal decision to press on. “I left Gavin because he’d begun to dabble in Black Magic again.”
“Again?”
“Once that particular fire is lit, it never quite goes out.” She studied me a moment, her flinty eyes softening a tiny bit. “What do most witches truly want when they turn to dark things? Power over the natural world that rules us, no? Sometimes this requires money, something witches are not particularly gifted at making. Sometimes, it requires a gift one may not be blessed with. Gavin was never pleased with what he’d been given.”
But he’d be thrilled with what I’d been de
alt. As an unmarked, I would solve Gavin’s problems. I shuddered.
“He can be quite charming, and is fairly reasonable when not under Black Magic’s influence. When I insisted on leaving, he agreed I’d take Ion, because he carries the Romany mark.”
“And you left Brandon?” My heart ached for him. “Why would you do that? Because he held Gavin’s marks?”
“Brandon doesn’t hold any marks at all,” she said, carefully watching my reaction. “Do you know what that means?”
The air caught in my throat. Do I know what that means? I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. Part of me wanted to hold Brandon and tell him I understood too well what he was going through. The other part, a scared, distrustful knot in the pit of my belly, wanted to run far away from him, fearful of what he’d collected. “Yes,” I managed to say. “I’ve heard of it.” Seralina began to speak, but I couldn’t follow what she was saying. Was Brandon lying when he said he carried his father’s gift, or did he simply not know? Did he know about me? Seralina cleared her throat and I jolted back into the moment.
“To be honest,” she said, “it frightened me. Those born without marks are unwelcome in our culture, to put it mildly. If anyone discovered I’d given birth to such a child, my family would always be held in contempt, and Ion, so close in age to Brandon, would always be under suspicion. No one would accept us. Add a non-Romany father practicing Black Magic and the whole scenario was a recipe for disaster.” She paused. “You may think I’m horrible for leaving one son to save the other, but you are young and have not yet had to make the most difficult decisions in life.”
I thought about my own parents, and their willingness to leave everything—family, friends, coven—for me.
“Judge me if you like,” Seralina continued, a sharp edge to her voice, “but it’s my duty to look out for Ion’s best interests.”
Focus on Gavin, I thought, pushing away a sarcastic retort. Focus on his trail. “So you think Gavin is stopping Ion’s transition somehow?”
“I know he is,” Seralina insisted. “Ion is Romany, but half his blood is still his father’s. If Gavin has been practicing Black Magic, he’s disrupting the natural order of things, putting a halt to Ion’s transition. To Romanies, a witch who doesn’t transition is considered unnatural, a demon.”