by Beth Byers
His gaze was alert as it moved over her face. “Everything all right?”
“Sisters,” Circe laughed and let him pull her back into the dance. He spun her away from him, and she laughed despite the well of guilt in her stomach. Surely Echo was fine. Surely Ariadne was fine.
Ariadne was always so dramatic. So weight-of-the-world burdening her all the time. Endlessly whining about having to do everything. Maybe if she stopped being so bossy Circe would help. Circe felt the lure of the music as she always did and her mind followed the wail of the singer.
The music pulled Circe in, and she danced with George almost—but not quite—forgetting Echo’s request for Ariadne. What was Circe supposed to do? Get a black cab by herself and hunt Ariadne up in the city? Ariadne shouldn’t have left them. This was her fault, not Circe’s. They were supposed to stay together. Mother had said so. Mother had said as she lay dying. Help each other. Stay together. Love one another.
How much love had Ariadne shared while she bossed them around and ruined Circe’s dreams? Why did Ariadne have to be a lady-legger? Why did she have to skirt the law and raise the brows? Circe had seen Lindsey’s gaze narrow when Circe had confessed what they’d been doing. She’d been ashamed of herself as she admitted that she’d used her song to help age the wine.
Lindsey’s brows had drawn together. You shouldn’t have to do that, pretty thing. You shouldn’t be involved in such things.
He’d been trying to protect her, he told her that night when she showed up, weeping at his door. The cross had been to warn Ariadne of what came from breaking the law. Maybe, Lindsey had said so smoothly, maybe if Ariadne had a little fear, she’d repent and return from her devilish ways. Maybe Circe believed him, but the doubt had ruined her and she’d fled home before anyone had realized she’d slipped away.
Circe threw herself deeper into the music. It was easier to descend into song and let it carry her away than fight between her heart and her mind once again.
Echo’s entrance a half hour later had Circe wincing. Her younger sister met Circe’s gaze and then turned away. She said something to that male witch and then crossed to the bar and took a drink. She shouldn’t drink so much, Circe thought, it reflected poorly on the family. Circe had tried to tell her, but Echo had knocked the drink back and snapped her mouth shut. Whatever Echo had been about to say had been ugly. Even if their little sister had held it back, Circe wouldn’t forget.
ECHO BEATRIX AZALEA WODE
Echo took a second drink and sipped it slowly as she watched Circe dance with the chubby fellow.
“I know that look,” one of the Langford girls said and Echo slowly turned. Nanette Langford was about a thousand times prettier than any of the Wode sisters, and she was charming as well. “Are you all right? Glaring daggers at your sister never works. I’ve tried it many times.”
Echo laughed and admitted, “I keep trying to send her my thoughts, but she seems to be too thickheaded to catch them.”
Nanette winked. “Did I see you in the garden with Lucian Blacke? He’s yummy! Mama thought he’d be more interested in Ariadne, but I told her Ariadne’s lips are too tight.”
Echo stared for a moment and then slowly asked, “Do you mean that Ariadne is too serious?”
“She doesn’t laugh enough. It looks like she’s always worrying about something. A widower needs a lighter heart.”
Echo stared in shock. Nanette Langford might be pretty, but she was as dim as the sun during an eclipse. Ariadne was always worrying about something. Medea was struggling to learn to read. Cassie only did her magic practice under protest. They’d drained Ariadne’s pearls account for the tickets to England and Aunt Beatrix hadn’t sent any more despite her promises.
“It’s hard being the oldest.” Echo met Nanette’s gaze and added, “Especially without parents.”
Her friend nodded, but Echo could see that Nanette no more understood than Circe did. It was like she was surrounded by blind fools. Echo nibbled her bottom lip, drained her drink, and called for a black cab. She was done for the evening. Now to peel Circe away from the all the attention she was soaking in.
Chapter 12
MAY 1922. LONDON, ENGLAND
ARIADNE EUDORA WISTERIA WODE
“What do you mean?”
Echo glanced back at Ariadne and said, “I think she’s being haunted.”
“Haunted? But she’s just a normal human.”
“She still threw us in the path of other witches. She lives close to them. Circe said that the Langfords were a witch line once. Maybe there’s some remnant of a spell affecting them. I don’t know. Maybe her extended family is more other than she realizes. But I do know that something is off, and I felt the dead. It wasn’t a relative playing the role of guardian angel, Ari. It was darker and it left me feeling…sick.”
Ariadne sighed and sat down on the window seat. “So you and Circe drew a pentacle, but couldn’t see anything?”
Echo shook her head, her lips tight. Ariadne slowly took a deep breath in and held it. She breathed out and repeated the action until the fury in her gaze banked into a low burning simmer.
“She left you to it alone?”
Echo nodded. Ariadne breathed in again and held it until it hurt. What was she supposed to do with the spoilt Circe? How hard was it to back up your sister when there were restless dead?
“There wasn’t a thinning near there?”
Echo shook her head again, and Ariadne rose to pace. Finally Ariadne admitted, “I don’t know what to do.”
“I know.” Echo replied quietly. “I don’t know what to do either. I wish I had brought different Books of Shadows.”
That made Ari pause and think back to the library. What if they were there in the Wode House? Books of Shadows were combinations of journals and spell books kept by witches. Perhaps some other Wode had walked this path before and could help.
“To do about what?” Circe asked as she tripped to the table, her ruffled sleeves flouncing about her wrists.
Ariadne studied Circe. Her hair was curled tightly with rags. Her eye cosmetics were already applied, and the cloud of perfume that surrounded the vain Circe was thick enough to choke an elephant. Ariadne clenched her mouth tightly and left the room before she answered.
She had agreed to meet Mr. Weatherby and Mr. Hanover at their offices that morning. She changed into a black skirt and white blouse, and placed a black sweater over the top. With black stockings and black shoes, she was as dressed as she normally would be for such an occasion. She had, in fact, worn a very similar outfit on the day she’d met with her mother’s lawyer and accountant.
This day, Ari was relieved to think, would be much easier. With far less mourning involved despite her recent troubles and the concerning news from last night. She had spent the morning reading the papers about the nature of the inheritance she was accepting. There was no other outcome. None of the local Wodes would be able to take control of the Wode House or protect the gardens, and Ariadne would be damned if she’d see what her kin had built go to ruin.
“Where are you going?” Circe demanded as Ariadne approached the door of their hotel suite.
“I have an appointment,” Ariadne replied. “The little ones will be going with Faith to the zoo today.”
Ariadne merely glanced at Circe and then left. Circe’s voice carried as she muttered about Ariadne being self-righteous and too commanding. It wasn’t as though Ariadne had even tried to tell Circe to do anything. In fact, Ariadne had said nothing at all. Had she gone on about how Circe should have gone for Ariadne or helped Echo? No. What was the point? It was like pounding your head against a brick wall, and Ari had enough headaches without such things.
Hanover, Weatherby, & Weatherby had offices in a brick building that had replaced a long-standing Mayfair mansion that once belonged to the aristocracy. The building still smelled new. It seemed to radiate established clientele and new money. The windows shone, the flooring reflected her face, and her heels clicked, clicked with each step, a
nnouncing her presence.
When she reached the front desk, a man stood, eyed her carefully, and guessed, “Miss Wode?”
Ariadne nodded, and she was led to a boardroom where Hugo Weatherby sat with, surprisingly, Lucian Blacke. There was also a quite older man and a younger set of what were clearly siblings. Medium brown hair, medium brown eyes, a speckling of freckles over cheeks and noses. The gentleman was handsome enough, but the woman’s pinched mouth and narrowed gaze reminded Ariadne too much of her own persona to find the woman lovely. This was also a woman who worried too much and played too little.
The gentlemen all stood and Hugo said, “This is Mr. Hadley Wode and his sister, Margot Wode. And Mr. Lucian Blacke.”
Ariadne nodded to them. She saw the narrowing of Margot’s gaze, but really—was Ariadne supposed to apologize for being further up the inheritance line than they were? She wasn’t going to and that was all there was to it.
“They understand that you were able to open the house.”
“I did,” Ariadne admitted.
“We tried today,” Margot told Ariadne. “It didn’t open for us. We need to see for ourselves.”
“It wouldn’t open for you, Margot. No matter that it did when Delilah was alive. Whatever recognition you received through Delilah is gone now.” Mr. Blacke’s voice was gentle, but he sounded as though he’d said the same a time or two.
“I need to see it open for her. The transfer isn’t complete. Hadley can try again this morning.”
Ariadne took a deep breath and turned to Mr. Weatherby. “Do we need to do this again?”
He glanced at the older man, who introduced himself. “Hector Hanover, Miss Wode. Your name has already appeared on our paperwork. As I have already said to Miss Margot, the magic is incontrovertible. The house belongs to Ariadne Wode now. Miss Delilah Wode, knowing she was the end of her line, adjusted the inheritance to accept anyone of the original line who also could handle the magic of the house and garden. I’m afraid despite your and your brother’s repeated attempts, you haven’t been able to open the house because the magic didn’t accept you.”
“So you’re saying that this American witch is more powerful than me or Hadley?” Margot’s voice was dismissive.
Mr. Hanover’s head tilted and he lifted his brows. “To put it plainly, yes. Ariadne Wode opened the house. Her magic is sufficient. She’s the eldest of her line and she has the ability to protect what has been built. That was the requirement.”
Margot Wode slapped her hand down on the table. “I refuse to believe it.”
Ariadne crossed her ankles and her fingers and wondered what she’d done that made her constantly face this ridiculous drama from those with the last name of Wode. “I understand that you’re upset.”
“You’re damn right I am.”
“I assume that you went to the house with Mr. Weatherby or Mr. Hanover and attempted your own entrance.”
Margot’s cheeks flushed brilliantly and she nodded once.
“Then the house did not accept you. The magic did not accept you, and you are not the previous Miss Wode’s heir. I am sorry for your loss.”
Margot’s fury had turned the entirety of her face a dark, unhealthy maroonish red. “I didn’t ask for your apologies.”
“Then accept my bluntness,” Ariadne snapped. “Regardless of what happens with me, the house turned you and your brother away. It’s not your house. The magic is clear.”
Margot crossed her arms over her chest. “I don’t accept that.”
“As it is not your house, you have no business here.”
Margot’s jaw dropped. “I am a Wode. I spent much of my childhood in that house.”
Ariadne turned her gaze to Hadley Wode and Lucian Blacke. “Please leave.”
Mr. Blacke immediately stood and tugged Mr. Wode up. The brother had to lean down and whisper fervently into Margot Wode’s ear before she left.
“We’ll be watching when you approach the house later. I won’t believe it until I see it.”
“Fine,” Ariadne said. She turned to Mr. Hanover. “Shall we?”
Every time she saw the house, Ariadne was struck again with a surreal awe. There it was. Four stories of bedrooms, parlors, music rooms, and other places for the upper crust. Music room, conservatory, massive magical garden, cellars stocked with wines, potions, and cauldrons. Tables and chemistry sets. Stocks of herbs and potion ingredients that hadn’t gone bad in the years of their neglect.
The balustrade-style gate opened before Ariadne even reached for the handle. She knew she was being watched. The black auto in front of the Wode House had made Mr. Hanover’s driver leave them a house farther down the street.
Ariadne had felt the gazes fixed on her as she left the auto, as she walked slowly down the path and approached the front doors. It anything, she could feel them more firmly now as she took the six steps up to the front door. It opened for her. She didn’t even reach out before she was able to cross the threshold.
She had taken the house for herself the day before and Mr. Hanover was not able to follow her inside until she said, “Please come in.”
“I didn’t realize it had gone so far,” he told her. He pulled from his jacket the papers they’d signed earlier that day. Her mind was still refusing to register the amount of money she’d inherited, the number of houses, properties, business, and shares. She had finally boxed the ideas up in her mind and set them aside for later.
“I came again last night,” Ari told him. “There were wards that were pressing against my mind to be renewed. I took care of what I could.”
“I don’t believe the house has been so vocal in at least fifty years. It has long since been accepted that Nara has been dying.”
“Perhaps you might tell me more about the Wodes who lived here before.”
“I will. Let me gather my thoughts, and we’ll have dinner. I assume your sisters are curious as well?”
Ariadne nodded and he left her to the house as she did not invite him to linger. It wasn’t as though she lived there. She couldn’t offer him a pot of tea. She’d have to go looking for the kitchens. The truth of the matter was, she had felt the magic of the place more than the layout, and she could easily get lost. She thought there might be as many as twelve thousand feet in this house, though the English would describe it differently.
She knew that there was a rooftop garden because she could feel the magic of the plants in her mind like a humming in the distance. She knew that the exterior gardens might well be fifteen or fifty magicked acres of plants, orchards, and ponds. She knew that the master bedroom was layered in spells, as were the entrances, but she could not say where the other rooms were, the colors of most of the walls, or the contents of the icebox.
Ariadne stayed longer than she should have, but when she left she found Lucian Blacke at the gate. He adjusted his hat as he said, “I’m sorry about earlier.”
Ariadne only nodded.
“Did your sister tell you about the ghosts we felt?”
“She did,” Ariadne said, glancing into his auto to see if he was still accompanied by the Wode siblings. They were gone.
“I am concerned. I am very concerned for Mrs. Langford and her children.”
Ariadne paused. Her mind was quieter as she’d renewed the entrance wards on the house and trigged the blood magic, but all that needed to be done nagged at her.
“I wonder if I might call on you and your sisters about the matter,” he asked.
Ariadne agreed and shut the gate. It clasped shut with a clang, almost as though it hadn’t gotten used to the idea of opening.
Mr. Blacke paused for a moment. “What will you do about Hadley and Margot?”
Ari didn’t have an answer for that, but she knew one thing for certain. She could only handle additional family who supported and loved. The last thing Ariadne needed in her life was another Circe.
Chapter 13
MAY 1922. LONDON, ENGLAND
ARIADNE EUDORA WISTERIA WODE<
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“Ghosts. Why?” Ari asked, closing her eyes. As though having to flee their home from the KKK wasn’t enough. Ariadne’s question was rhetorical, but Circe scoffed all the same. “Why is this happening to us?”
Echo shook her head and then she said, “Ari, if we were at home, I wouldn’t worry about the ghosts. I’m worried in a hotel. Our wards are basic level things that don’t draw on the land or sources of power and as witches—”
Ariadne’s mouth twisted. “You’re saying we should fully take possession of Wode house. The wards aren’t fully renewed yet. It still assaults my sense.”
“It’s better than no wards,” Echo replied gently. She glanced at Circe and beyond her to Cassie and Medea. “We’ll help you reset the wards and quiet the house fully. We can’t trust anyone we’ve met so far. Not until we know who’s been messing with the dead.”
“You’re right. It’s not worth the risk,” Ariadne said, standing to pace. “Pack our things. I need to find out what we need. I suspect we’ll need everything as far as food goes and perhaps linens as well? I don’t know where you would even go about buying those things in London. We’ll have to send Faith to inquire of the Langford servants.”
“I don’t want to go,” Circe hissed. “I’m tired of following Ari around and making a big deal of her. You’re not the queen of this family even if you’re the Wode.”
Ariadne pressed a hand to her chest. “Circe—”
“No! I’m not going to be another minion for Ariadne Wode.”
Echo covered Medea’s ears and snapped, “No one is making you do that.”
“Then why am I here?” Circe yelled.
“Because even you aren’t so stupid to think that Lindsey Noel is a good long-term bet.”
Circe gasped and stepped back. “I could go home.”
“Circe—” Ariadne said softly, pleadingly.