Lily closed her mouth, breathing hard through her nose as she tried to get a grip on the temper that always seemed to show itself whenever someone she cared about was threatened. Freddie returned her glare, or at least tried to—it was more an affronted look of outrage than anything else. But she had stared down a queen of the fae, and won. This man’s self-righteous indignation was nothing in comparison.
After giving him a few moments to respond, she prodded him again. “Well? Are you going to thank your brother for enduring torture and nearly dying to save your sorry butt?” She felt Sebastian tug her hand, but she didn’t back down.
“I—I—”
“The words you’re looking for are ‘thank you,’” she said, her tone scathing.
Freddie looked like he would rather suck a lemon. His eyes kept darting to the door, as if he wanted to storm out of it, except that Lily stood in his way. Finally, he drew himself up and addressed the room in general. “I am grateful for the aid I received, but would thank you to keep me out of your future…activities. I have a business to run, and no time for this nonsense. Good day.” With that, he pushed past Lily—or rather, sidled around her—and exited the room, no doubt hoping to preserve the last shreds of his dignity.
“Well, that was entertaining,” Sir Kipling observed as he jumped to the floor, coming over to sniff Sebastian’s shoe then rub on the witch’s ankles in a feline show of solidarity. Lily wasn’t so sure, and she glanced up at Sebastian, searching his face with apprehension.
Her friend let out a sigh in a giant whoosh of air, the tension flowing from him like water from a tub and leaving him limp in its wake. He collapsed on the bed, dragging her with him through their still-linked hands. Lily gave a squeak of surprise, but managed not to fall in an undignified heap across his lap. Sebastian didn’t even notice; his eyes were fixed on the floor. He didn’t seem to want to let go of her, which was endearing, even if her fingers were getting rather squished.
“Are…are you okay?” she asked as the silence stretched on.
“Huh? Oh, um…yeah.”
Judging by his sagging shoulders and weary, vacant stare, Lily decided this was not the best time to demand answers. She decided to let him get some rest; she needed something to keep her mind busy, and cooking seemed like the perfect chore. But when she tried to stand and pull away, his grip tightened.
“Stay with me…please?”
She relaxed, heart melting at the pleading in his voice, even as it sent a little shock of pleasure through her. He wanted her, though whether as a friend or as something more it wasn’t clear. She decided not to dwell on it—didn’t her mother always say to enjoy the little things?
They sat for a while in silence, shoulders and hips just touching. Sir Kipling took the opportunity to jump onto Sebastian’s lap and roll over for a good belly rub. By now, Lily recognized his “purr therapy” tactics, and she was silently grateful. There was a measure of comfort to be found in a fluffy, warm, purring feline that no amount of words could provide, even if she’d been able to find the right ones.
“I…” Sebastian said, finally breaking the silence before pausing for a long moment, as if searching for what to say. “I…um, I was surprised to see Pip. Since when did you start stealing my moves and calling down the vengeful wrath of the fae?” He nudged her, a teasing note in his voice.
“Humph,” Lily grumbled. “I did no such thing, thank you very much. I was just lucky she was hanging around your apartment, probably looking for alcohol. I think the only reason she helped me was because she knew she would never get paid if you were—were—” She stumbled over her words, unable to voice the horrible, dreadful possibility that she had so feared. She felt, rather than heard, Sebastian’s grunt of amusement.
“Doesn’t surprise me, I guess. I hope you didn’t promise her anything too outrageous for her help?”
“You know I do pay attention when you tell me things about the fae. I was careful in my wording. I told her she would get twice the normal payment, plus whatever you had already promised for helping you in the first place.”
Sebastian groaned. “Great. That pixie is going to drink me out of house and home. She has disgustingly expensive tastes when it comes to alcohol.”
“Well, serves you right for going and getting yourself into trouble. If you had—had just—” She stopped, pressing her lips together to stifle the angry accusation. She had promised herself she wouldn’t bring it up so soon, not when he was still dogged by that haunted look in his eyes.
There was a much longer silence this time. Lily’s hand felt clammy, fingers entwined in his, but she made no move to pull away, and neither did he.
“Thank you.” Sebastian’s quiet, almost hesitant words surprised her. She wasn’t sure how to respond. Now was certainly not the time to launch into a lecture about communication and trust. Should she be polite and just say “you’re welcome”? Or would that sound trite? Uncertain, she simply gave his hand a timid squeeze. The gesture seemed to encourage him, because he spoke again, words halting and broken.
“I don’t deserve…I never expected…I mean, you shouldn’t have—” He cut himself off, and Lily felt an odd sense of relief knowing she wasn’t the only one who struggled to express herself. Her relief was short lived, however, as she noticed the growing tension in his grip—it was becoming painfully tight again. She glanced sideways at his face to see his eyes closed and jaw clenched, a muscle twitching in his cheek as if he fought some internal battle. Alarmed, Lily opened her mouth, but he spoke first.
“My brother and I, we’ve never been close,” he said, his strained tone a one-eighty swing from the vulnerable words he’d uttered not moments before.
The abrupt change—of subject and demeanor—threw her. It was as if he’d finally been about to confide in her, but then had thought better of it. Brow furrowed, she tried to think of something to say as her fingers got more and more squashed. “That’s, um…unfortunate?” Wincing, she mentally kicked herself and hurried on. “I don’t blame you. With his attitude I’m surprised his nose is still intact, that ungrateful excuse for a—a—” She stopped, unable to come up with a sufficiently scathing insult as her ire resurfaced. Sebastian let out a weak chuckle and, to her relief, his grip relaxed.
“Believe me, we’ve had our fair share of fights. He’s always been an ungrateful excuse for…a lot of things. But I guess that’s just how he is—it’s how he copes. But thanks anyway for, um, for what you said.” His last words were so quiet they were almost a whisper.
Lily could only nod, her eyes burning at the thought of what Sebastian had endured for so long. Yet frustration burned inside her, too, as she realized that, even now, he seemed incapable of letting her inside his walls. Not that she would know what to do if he did, but at least it would be a sign that he trusted her. If he wanted there to be something between them, why was he still keeping her at arms length?
She stood abruptly. “You need your rest. I’ll go help with dinner,” she said, telling herself she wasn’t running away, just giving him space—space to figure out what in the world he wanted, because the mixed signals he was sending did painful things to her heart that she didn’t think she could endure.
He tried to pull her back, but she tugged her hand from his grip and he finally let go, his arm dropping limply to the bedspread as she headed for the door. She paused in the doorway and turned. The expression of hopelessness on his face was too much for her to bear, so she averted her eyes, searching for something else to look at. “I’ll be downstairs if…if you need me,” she said, gaze settling on her cat. “Kip, you coming?”
He stared at her, still sprawled across Sebastian’s lap, all four paws in the air. His yellow, half-closed eyes made it clear he had no intention of moving. Lily felt a tug of wistfulness at the sight. If only she were more like her cat. He always seemed to know just what to do, and did it without a fuss, bold and unafraid. Yet here she was, confused and conflicted, babbling like a fool.
�
�Get some rest,” she forced herself to say, and reached up to switch off the overhead light.
“No! Leave it on. Please.”
The wild panic in Sebastian’s eyes stopped her cold, and she had the urge to go back to the bed and wrap him in a comforting hug. But no. He wasn’t a child, and she wasn’t his mother. If he needed something he could act like any other mature adult and ask for it. Yeah. Right. Like she was always honest and open about the things she wanted, much less needed, a sarcastic voice said in her head. She ignored the thought and, taking her hand off the light switch, headed downstairs.
Dinner preparation was just the distraction she needed, and she threw herself into the task, chopping, peeling, and stirring alongside Madam Barrington as Jamie washed the dishes. Freda had gone upstairs to finish preparing all the bedrooms for the new sleeping arrangements, insisting that Ethel had no business traipsing up and down the stairs in her state. From the steely look in her mentor’s eyes, Lily suspected the older woman had been none too pleased to hear such nonsense, but had diplomatically acquiesced to Freda’s need to take care of everyone. All four bedrooms were full, with Freda moving Jamie to an air mattress on the floor of the guest room with her so Freddie could have his old room to himself—though he was staying only under extreme duress. Lily was glad she wouldn’t be spending the night in such crowded quarters, even if the thought of letting Sebastian out of her sight for a whole night did cause an irrational twist of worry in her stomach. Despite thoroughly discussing the number and level of wards around the house with Madam Barrington as they chopped carrots together, Lily still felt a flutter of unease. What if Roger came after Sebastian and Freddie again? Or Jamie or Freda? What if he attacked in the middle of the night when she wasn’t there? What if he eschewed magic altogether and tried something completely mundane, like burning the house down? Lily knew these were probably irrational fears. But irrational or not, Roger was a threat, and they needed to figure out what he was after. Soon. Because anything a demon-possessed witch wanted was bound to be bad.
“Soon,” however, would have to wait until after dinner. Under Freda’s direction, all was laid out on Madam Barrington’s polished oak table in the formal dining room. Though sitting down with such a large number of people reminded Lily of family dinners back home, the atmosphere couldn’t have been more different. It was so thick with tension she could have sliced it up and served it on a platter alongside the hearty shepherd’s pie, fried chicken, corn pudding, and grilled asparagus. The meal was an odd mix of traditionally southern and British food, and Lily might have smiled if it weren’t for Madam Barrington’s stern mask, Freddie’s pinched brow, and Sebastian’s vacant stare. She said nothing as she prepared herself a steaming cup of African red rooibos—an herbal tea—since she knew she needed a caffeine break after the innumerable cups of black tea she had consumed in the last forty-eight hours. Madam Barrington took Earl Grey, as usual, and the rest of the family drank their tea cold and sweet, like the good southerners they were.
Freda kept the table conversation polite and flowing by sheer force of will, deftly cutting off Jamie every time he tried to ply Freddie or Sebastian with questions. The whole process was excruciating, and Lily admired her mother’s social acumen. It was a gene the older woman had, apparently, not passed on to her daughter—Lily shuddered at the mere thought of having to play the engaging hostess.
After dinner, Freddie disappeared upstairs. Freda banished Jamie to the kitchen to wash the dishes while she busied herself clearing the table. The sound of clanging pots and pans, along with youthful protests of “slave labor” and “cruel and unusual punishment,” drifted through the door that connected the dining room to the kitchen. Lily had to suppress a smile.
She was about to rise to help her mother, when Madam Barrington cleared her throat. “Shall we retire to my library? I believe that would be the best place to converse, so as to remove the temptation of eavesdropping from a certain youngling.” The elderly wizard’s mouth turned down, which only made it harder for Lily to keep the grin off her face at the thought of her enterprising little brother. She looked to Sebastian, expecting a twinkle in his eye at the mention of such mischief. But her friend’s face was worn and his shoulders hunched, eyes staring into nothing. It took Lily rising and gently touching his shoulder before his head jerked up as he seemed to realize they were talking to him.
They all made their way to Madam Barrington’s windowless, warded library that also served as her office and magical work-space. Lily looked around for Sir Kipling as they went, but he was nowhere to be seen. She guessed he was probably in the kitchen, begging milk and scraps off of someone. At the door, Sebastian hesitated, and Lily peered around him to see his hand hovering a few inches away from the antique handle.
“Are you okay?” Lily asked, voice low so Madam Barrington, who had preceded them, couldn’t hear.
Sebastian gave a strangled laugh. “The last time I went into this room, I had just picked the lock and was about to steal some of Aunt B’s books.”
Lily couldn’t help herself—she snorted. “No wonder she disowned you. I would have too.” Catching Sebastian’s eye, she gave him a wry smile so he would know she was teasing. He tried to smile back, but it was a weak and fleeting effort before he ducked his head and pushed through the door.
They found Madam Barrington seated in one of her cushioned, wing-backed chairs drawn up to the fireplace. A merry blaze crackled in the hearth, chasing away the chill and adding a flickering glow to the steady yellow of the light globes overhead. The sight of Sir Kipling’s grey, fluffy form, nose tucked into his tail as he lay curled up in the old wizard’s lap, made Lily shake her head ruefully. His ears flicked in their direction as she and Sebastian pulled up their own chairs, but other than that he ignored them and focused on his nap.
With everyone seated, the room fell silent save for the popping of burning logs. Even the sounds of clanging pots and Jamie’s protests had gone silent, shut out by the magics that guarded Madam Barrington’s sacred retreat. For a moment, Lily imagined them sitting thus in peaceful relaxation, a simple gathering of friends for an evening of quiet conversation. All they were missing was a well-stocked tea tray.
Well, that and actual peace.
Would things ever go back to normal? Would the ordeal with her father and his machinations ever be resolved? Would they ever heal from the scars they had already endured, much less survive whatever lay before them?
Not having answers, nor a convenient blanket fort in which she could hide from her troubles, Lily straightened her spine and suppressed a weary sigh. Madam Barrington had turned from staring at the fire and looked like she was about to speak.
2
Joint Investigations
“Sebastian, report.”
The old wizard’s choice of words took Lily aback. She had never heard her mentor use such a military-sounding phrase. While Madam Barrington’s words were stern, however, her tone was level, and the lines of her face were softer than usual.
Lily looked to Sebastian, whose own surprise was quickly replaced by a brow furrowed in thought. Perhaps he understood more from his aunt’s words than Lily did—they had a history, after all. She felt an odd pang of loneliness and wondered, not for the first time, if she would ever have the courage to ask either of them to open up about their pasts. But she pushed the feeling aside as her friend leaned forward, elbows on his knees, eyes fixed on the dancing flames, and began to explain what he had found in Richard’s FBI files and the conclusions he had drawn.
“What worries me,” he finished, rubbing a hand over his face, “is that whoever’s doing all this summoning doesn’t seem to care about collateral damage or attracting notice. It’s sloppy and brazen—almost as if they want to be found. And that doesn’t fit with witches working for hire, though at this point I can’t even be sure they’re not working alone since Anto—er, my source hasn’t had any word of a job being up for bid.”
For some reason, his gaze flick
ed to her for a moment before going back to the fire. The flash of emotion in his eyes was too quick for her to interpret, and she pressed her hands together in her lap, resisting the urge to push for more detail.
“That’s all I managed to find out from the files and my…other sources. I assumed Roger was involved, but there was no evidence linking him directly. Then I found…the ransom note.” Sebastian stopped, shoulders hunching as he seemed to shrink in on himself. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed several times, and when he started again, his words were tight and halting, as if forming them was physically painful. “He…he wanted his book back. Book of Names. Powerful demonology. I stole it years ago. Tried to trick him again, but…didn’t work. He got his book…and me…” His voice faded and he shivered violently, despite his proximity to the fire.
Lily’s chest ached and her eyes stung at the sight of her friend, looking more vulnerable and frightened than she thought possible. She reached out on impulse, hand coming to rest on his forearm. Immediately, his shivering stopped and he visibly relaxed, his eyes shutting for a moment as he drew in a deep breath. When he opened them, they remained fixed on the fire, as if he couldn’t bear to look at her. Lily felt a flash of hurt, but tried to ignore it. She left her hand where it was, and Sebastian continued, more steadily this time.
Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Betrayal Page 18