by Shannon Page
“Oh, I did not realize the difference was so vast. She must have been quite young when she had you.”
“Mid-thirties.” Younger than I was now. A different server, a waitress this time, brought our entrees. I took a bite of ricotta gnocchi, pausing to let the flavors bloom in my mouth before I said, “I had a happy childhood, for the most part. Not much to tell, really. Mom spent more time with me than Dad did. I think that’s why I followed him into research.” I grinned a little self-consciously. “Always trying to get his attention. You know.”
“I do know. As we have discussed.”
As we ate, I told him about studying in Leonora’s coven as a youngster (as did nearly every young San Francisco witch, along with many witchlets from the surrounding area), and then the exciting, nerve-racking time of choosing which coven to join when I turned twenty. Nementhe had announced her intention of moving Beyond several years earlier, but had changed the date several times. It was unclear whether or not there would be an opening for me. I’d visited an East Bay coven that also focused on education, and one in Marin County that was situated in a lovely house overlooking the ocean, but my heart was in San Francisco. Finally, Nementhe did travel to the next plane, and Leonora made me a formal offer.
I found myself relaxing as we talked—well, as I talked and he asked the occasional question. I knew we weren’t on a date; I didn’t know what our relationship was going to be, from here on out. But we were going to have to be on comfortable and familiar terms, whatever it was.
Over tiramisu, I said, “All right, enough about me. I still want to know what happened in the Old Country. Did you find out anything about the larger conspiracy? About Dr. Winterheart’s confederates?” I’d rehearsed this question before I asked it and was pleased that it came out sounding entirely natural.
He frowned slightly. “Not as much as I had hoped. Nothing conclusive.”
“You must have learned something in all that time.” As his frown deepened, I hastened to add, “I’m not criticizing, I’m just very interested to know. The whole community is, in fact. This kind of thing is a big deal for us here.”
“Oh, I understand that, and I’m not reluctant to tell you. It’s just…well, you’ve never been to the Old Country. I am trying to find the best way to explain my experience there so that it will make sense to you.”
“Is it really so much different than here?” I scraped my spoon across my empty plate. I’d eaten appetizers, a big plate of pasta, and my entire dessert—a bigger meal than I’d had in forever. How was there suddenly room for it? Well, it had been pretty tasty. It was nice to have an appetite.
Jeremy smiled softly. “Yes and no. Do you remember the night we met, when you and Logandina asked about it?”
“Of course.” A small pang of sorrow went through me at the thought of my best friend. She had had such a crush on Jeremy. I still missed her so.
He nodded, acknowledging my frown. “A community where everyone wields magic, where it does not have to be hidden, is so fundamentally different from how things are handled here—and most everywhere else in the world—you would almost have to see it to begin to grasp it.”
“I do hope I get to travel there someday,” I said, and I meant it.
“I hope so too. Not now, of course.” His eyes darted downward, though he couldn’t really see my belly through the table.
“No.”
He took a last bite of his own dessert, seeming to gather his thoughts. “It’s not just that magic is used openly there, though it is certainly that. It is more that…the human forms of communication and interaction, the forms that we rely on out here, are downplayed so thoroughly, they are almost not used at all.”
“What does that mean? Nobody talks to each other?”
He smiled. “Much less than we do here. There is also far less going out into the world—here, for example,” he gestured, indicating the little restaurant. “This would be unthinkable there. There is very little in the way of even walking about on the streets, shopping, or socializing.”
“Really?” I thought about it. “That sounds pretty lonely.”
“Again, yes and no.” His smile grew apologetic. “I am sorry. I truly am not trying to be evasive. You would have to experience it to really understand what I mean, but in a sense, you are always so much more with others, even if your physical form is alone in a house.”
“Because you’re always talking to each other ætherically,” I suggested.
“It isn’t even always speech, per se. Our minds…those who are close to you, both in physical proximity and in emotional trust and fondness, it’s as though they are always gently in your mind, and you in theirs.” He shrugged, watching my expression. “It’s not mind-reading or anything so crude or invasive as that, not at all. Perhaps you can think of it more like…” He paused, his lovely green eyes going vague as he considered. “Like a telephone line, connected, but you set the receiver down and go about your business, and so does your friend. But you could raise your voice and call out to him at any point, and he would hear you.”
“Huh,” I said, trying to visualize it. Did that sound nice, or not? I couldn’t quite decide. Both, sort of. “It must feel strange to you to be here, then,” I said. He’d grown up there, after all, only coming to San Francisco in the last year.
He tilted his head. “A bit. I find it refreshing here, and I actually do love going out in the world. To bars and restaurants and gatherings. And I like…well, the privacy of being alone in my mind.”
“I like that too,” I admitted. “I’m not sure I would do very well in the Old Country. Does everyone who makes a pilgrimage there have to do this?”
“No, of course not. Tourists rarely do, in fact, and they almost never travel beyond Balszt, the capital. Balszt is a little more like what you’re familiar with, people do go out there, some. But that is a large part of why so many tourists and pilgrims report experiencing such a coldness from the locals. A sense of many things being said and understood that they have no access to; a hostility, almost. It’s not—well, usually not—that the locals are deliberately shutting visitors out of their social lives.”
“But why invite someone in who is only going to leave in a few weeks?” I finished, nodding. “I get that.”
The waitress came to clear our plates and ask if we wanted anything else. Jeremy looked at me; I shook my head and put a hand on my belly. Yes, I was pretty full. She set the check down near the center of the table. Jeremy snagged it at once.
I let him. He’d invited me out, after all.
“Okay,” I said, after he’d put a pile of cash on the bill, “so given all that, what did you find out about the conspiracy?”
“On the face of it, nothing,” he said. Before I could say anything, he went on. “And that’s what leads me to be almost entirely certain that there is something to be found there. I only managed to see a few old friends and acquaintances in person. There were an astonishing number of people who were not available for one reason or another. Travel to foreign lands, for work or on holiday, pilgrimages to mountain shrines. One warlock, whom I was sure would be able to illuminate me, had the temerity to tell me that he was in the middle of a three-month silent meditation retreat in his own home and could utter not one word, under any circumstances.”
I gaped at him. “He told you this silently.”
“No. He let his housekeeper do so; he had blocked me out of even ætheric communication.” Jeremy was a master of his emotions, but I could almost feel his irritation, prickly on my own skin. “The shut-out was so complete that I am convinced that there is much to be known.”
“That…must have been frustrating,” I said.
“It was,” he bit out. Then he shook his head and managed another smile. “Yet my time there was not entirely wasted. I did manage to spend a good deal of time with my foster family, with whom I remain close. And, once I realized how stymied I was in my search for Winterheart’s co-conspirators, I spent some time inquiring
about Logan’s parents.”
“Oh, you did?” I leaned forward. “Did you find anything?”
“A bit. They were indeed seen in Zchellenin, at least for some months after they got there. No one I spoke with was able to identify the ‘friend in trouble’ who had been the ostensible reason for their going there, though, and it was a relatively quiet moment in the ongoing Iron Rose struggles, which leads me to wonder whether their ‘friend’ was a cover story.”
“A cover story for what?”
He frowned. “I do not know, and no one I spoke with had any ideas. Augustus and Lorenna arrived, paid six months’ rent in advance for a small cottage at the edge of the village, then kept largely to themselves. Just like everyone does. No one knows exactly when they vanished. By the time their landlady came by to see if they wanted to renew the lease, the house had clearly been abandoned for some time. Perhaps even months, judging by the spoiled food in the cupboards. Villagers remembered seeing Lorenna in the market a few times but could not remember just when the last time had been. And of course, everyone’s memory is now blurry, so many years later.”
“Huh.” I sipped my water as I tried to swallow my deep disappointment. He had never promised he would be able to find any leads, after all. “That’s basically what everyone here found out when they investigated. What gets me is that—well, it was a small village, in a tight-knit community of only witchkind, no humans. Even if people don’t get out and about much, folks can just vanish like that, and no one notices? No one goes to check on them, ever?”
“Remember, they were probably considered outsiders, at least to a degree. Yes, they were originally from Zchellenin, but they had moved away so many years before. And they clearly demonstrated that they valued their privacy.”
I shook my head. “It still seems like someone must know something.”
“Yes. I was hoping I could do better than I did. I still might be able to, but it would take a lot of time, and probably some divination work. Not to mention luck. In any event, by the time my father contacted me, I was ready to return to San Francisco.” He smiled at me across the table, candlelight picking up sparkling highlights in his eyes.
“He contacted you?” Gregorio hadn’t mentioned that part. He’d made it sound as though Jeremy had told his father he was coming back.
“Yes.” Jeremy looked a little confused. “He told me that your pregnancy was progressing, and that my prolonged absence was liable to cause increasing talk in the community. And since I wasn’t making any headway, I might as well return, and we would work out some other way of getting to the bottom of this mystery.” He frowned slightly. “I was under the impression that he had spoken with you about this.”
“No. He only told me that you were on your way back, and that I’d be hearing from you soon.”
Now his small smile returned. “Well, wonder of wonders; has he finally decided to let me manage my own personal affairs?”
I smiled back, shaking my head. “Don’t go overboard. Maybe he was just busy.” Or maybe he’s testing both of us, wondering how far he can trust me to keep these secrets, and how oblivious Jeremy will be to the fact that there are secrets being kept. “Well, I’m glad you’re back,” I added, feeling more and more confident that I truly meant it.
“I am as well.”
He escorted me home—in a taxi, out in the world on the dark city streets, not on the ley lines. He saw me to my front door and kissed my hand. I did not invite him to stay the night, though a small part of me was tempted—and I wasn’t quite sure why. I was in no way ready to let that warlock back into my heart. Or my bed. Even if our dinner had been quite pleasant.
He was hardly to blame, after all, for the sins of his father. And for the terrible magical working that we’d done together. He was as much a pawn in this game as I had been.
Anyway, there would be plenty of time for resuming an intimate relationship, if I ever decided I wanted to. If he was amenable to our getting to know one another at a reasonable pace, then that was all to the good.
— CHAPTER FOUR —
The evening out with Jeremy left me energized and unsettled. I kept running the conversation over in my mind, marveling at the strangeness of the Old Country. Really, nobody talked to each other? What would that even be like? Surely he was exaggerating. I mean, it was almost too convenient, wasn’t it? Why even live in community if folks hid out in their own dwellings?
Why did Logan’s parents rush back there, only to disappear forever?
Finally, to distract myself, I climbed to my lab in the attic and put in a few good hours of work at the bench. Elnor was sacked out in the corner, and I was carefully pipetting a droplet of blood into a Petri dish when there was a sudden shriek in my head. Callie!!!
I dropped the pipette and jumped in alarm, startling Elnor awake. It took me a moment to realize that it was my student Gracie, and that the cry was coming through the æther. Gracie was a smart, accomplished witchlet…but she was also fifteen, and occasionally prone to dramatics.
What is it? I asked, putting my hand over my pounding heart.
Can I come over and see you RIGHT NOW?? PLEASE!!
Are you in danger?
There was a slight pause, then, You haven’t been here for dinner in AGES! I thought you were going to be here and you’re not!
I sighed, letting myself relax the rest of the way. Gracie. I come to every Tuesday dinner, and many others as well. You know that.
But I need to see you now! I’ve been waiting to talk to you for days!
I would have been well within my rights to close the connection until she could be more civil. But she was clearly distressed about something. Still, it was five in the morning, and I was, I suddenly realized, finally exhausted.
Is it something we can talk about this evening? I asked her. I promise I will be there for dinner tonight. I can even come an hour earlier and we can have a cup of tea or go for a walk or whatever you want. But I need to sleep now, and you probably should as well.
Another pause, then, Okay. Fine. I felt the connection snap shut.
I sighed again, so loud that Elnor woke up again and glanced over at me. “Teenage hormones, sweetpea,” I said, walking across the room and ruffling her ears. “Come on. Bedtime.”
I intended to nap for a few hours. Instead, I slept most of the day. Pregnancy will do that to you. Apparently Rosemary decided she needed the downtime, and I, as her mere vessel, her crucible, had no choice but to comply.
Or maybe we were both just busy incorporating all the calories from that giant Italian meal.
I did, however, remember my promise to Gracie. Elnor and I showed up at the coven house nearly two hours before dinner. My young student met us at the front door, her kitten at her heels. “Finally!”
“Gracie, what in the world is the matter?” I tried to pull her in for a hug, but she dodged it.
“You said we could go for a walk.” She pushed past me, hurrying out of the front garden and down the sidewalk without waiting for my response. Her dark hair fretted wildly about her head, and Minky (or Mynquie or however Gracie was spelling it today) darted along behind her. Elnor gave me an inquisitive glance.
I shrugged and started walking fast enough to catch up with the witchlet and her cat. We walked for a block in silence. I absently admired the fancy homes up here as I delicately probed Gracie’s magical output, hoping to get a sense of what could be on her mind. But she just marched along, fuming.
We turned a corner, bringing the Castro and Church neighbor-hoods into view, with downtown behind them. At last I could sense Gracie calming down—just a smidge, but enough that I felt I could begin to reach her. “We’ll need to head back for dinner before too long, so if you want to talk in private, we should probably get started,” I said.
She stopped on the sidewalk and turned to face me. “You’re leaving us!”
What? “I moved out months ago, dear. We’ve been over this. I’m not going anywhere.”
�
�You said you were going to raise the baby here and I was going to babysit! But Dr. Andromedus’s son offered you a big long contract! You’re going to quit the coven and leave us and move in with him!”
“Who told you such a thing? Was it Niad?”
“No! Mina and Kat said they heard it…somewhere. Everyone knows, all the coven sisters are talking about it.”
I shook my head. “Gracie, that is just not true. He did offer—”
“See! I knew it! Why are you—”
“But I told him no. Ages ago, before…everything.”
“What? Why?” Doubt was strong in her voice and painted all over her pretty face.
“Because I don’t actually want to leave the coven, and my life. Everything I told you before is still true.” I patted my swelling belly. “This doesn’t change what I fundamentally want out of life. And that is to keep doing my research, and to keep teaching science to you witchlets.” I smiled at her. “We need more genetics researchers, not fewer.” Now more than ever, I thought sourly. “Have you given any more thought to the direction of your life’s work?”
“No!” She tossed her dark curls, sending them twitching and shivering, and started walking again, her kitten darting between her feet. Gracie didn’t even seem to notice her; they were settling into one another’s energies well. “I don’t have to decide on anything yet. My mom says it’s way too early.”
“She’s not wrong,” I said. “I was just wondering.”
“Did you know you wanted to do biology research when you were my age?”
“Yes, I did. But then, I had the example of my father and…Dr. Andromedus.” I hurried on, hoping she wouldn’t notice my discomfort. “I’ve always been fascinated by what makes us tick. But I was unusual; most of my friends weren’t like this. Many witchlets choose their life path quite a bit later than fifteen. And you can always shift gears after the first fifty or a hundred years, if you decide you’ve gotten into the wrong field.”