“You’re happy with your life in Gravewood, right? Hasn’t it been easier being normal? Living a life like everyone else?”
I met her eyes. “Easier?” I fought to control the volume of my voice. “I don’t know. In some ways. But the magic never went away. It’s still inside of me. I can feel it…bubbling, vibrating, just waiting to break through. I feel it all the time, and I don’t know how to make it go away, or how to use it. And I’m afraid what happens if it comes out when I don’t mean for it to. I could hurt someone, but also…I could really help people if I only knew how!”
“The only thing you ever did was set fires. How can that help people?”
I felt as if she’d slapped me. Her tone and her words spoke volumes. “How do you know that’s all I’m capable of?”
“Because you helped a bird once?”
I drew in a breath. I’d been proud of that. It made me hopeful. The way she said this, made it seem like it was no big deal. It was my proudest memory.
“You also set fire to a barn, to a school, and you almost killed someone once, Maisie.” She rhymed my actions off on each finger.
I dipped my head.
“Your father told me if you don’t use magic; it weakens until you can’t use it at all anymore. I thought if I encouraged you to do that, then one day it would just…go away. And you’d be happier for it. Then Laird would no longer have any interest in you.”
She felt she needed to change me for me to be happy—or for her to be happy with me? Is that what she was saying to me? I took a deep breath and tried to squash my emotions. There were too many to cycle through. Even if there was truth to what she said, she made me feel as if the person I was born as wasn’t good enough. I’d felt this way my whole life, and to hear her essentially say it tore me to shreds. It overshadowed how angry I felt—by a mile. I would have wanted a different life, but I’d trusted her enough to think that following her lead was the best way. She was a liar.
“I’m not normal. I probably never will be,” I said.
“No. Probably not. And I only made it harder marrying Laird. How the hell could I have been so foolish? I sure can pick ’em. First a warlock, then a werewolf. Now I can never be with another man. Laird did me a favor when he made me make that promise. God knows who I’d pick next.”
“It wasn’t fair for him to ask that of you. It probably had more to do with what he wanted than what Douglas did. There are good guys are out there, Mom. Great guys, even.”
“Like Mason.”
I nodded. “Like Mason.”
“Laird,” she said with a growl. “He better not destroy your life. I won’t let him.”
“I can handle him.”
“You shouldn’t have to handle him.”
She was right. But here we were, and there was no getting around him. I had to do what he said or he could hurt my mother. I couldn’t let him hurt her no matter how much she’d cut me.
“The pack is having a dinner together today. It’s supposed to be for Marco.”
She touched my hand and squeezed it hard. “I heard about Marco. He wasn’t like the others.”
Was it possible to want her comfort and want to shrug off her hand at the same time? “He was a good one.” I slipped my hand out from under hers.
She pretended not to notice. “Laird’s making you go to the barbeque?”
“Yeah. You?”
“The whole pack has to go. I want to go about as much as he wants me there, but when he says the whole pack has to be there, I don’t really have a choice.”
“You and me both.”
I picked up the contact book and saw my father’s name on the blank first page. Victor Lewis. I noted his beautiful scrawl, like it was done by a professional calligrapher. Then I turned the page.
“I had every intention of giving these things to you one day, when I thought it was safe,” she said.
“You mean when you were sure I wasn’t magical anymore?” Yes, I’d said it to hurt her. And I felt even worse after the words left my mouth. I loved her. She chewed on her lip and shook her head. But we both knew it was true.
“You’re an adult now and you need to make your own decisions, but I have to warn you that it’s more important than ever for you to keep your distance from magic. Laird is Alpha and he likes the power it gives him. Having a witch he can control sets him apart from all the other packs. Don’t give him a reason to keep you close. You understand?”
I did understand, but I didn’t see any other way around it. And to be quite honest, in that moment, I couldn’t care less what she thought.
Seven
Dad’s trusted witch contacts—at least, Mom believed them to be—were clearly marked by red asterisks. So far this morning, all of the phone numbers I’d tried for them were no longer in service. I’d only had eight names, and as I tried the very last one, I hoped I finally found one that would work.
It didn’t.
I let out a curse and tapped a pencil to the page of the book before lining out the final number. Then I took all of the names and numbers and did an Internet search. If their numbers didn’t work, who knew where these people had moved on to. They could have stayed in Nova Scotia, or they could have moved to Timbuktu for all I knew. Each of the names gave me multiple hits on people who were listed as local. Would I call each of them? What would I say? Um, hello, are you a witch? All of them could have been humans. If they were witches, would they tell me what they were? A complete stranger? Fat chance.
I slapped the book shut and leaned onto the desk in Mom’s spare bedroom. The small jeweled necklace caught my eye. I picked it up and brought it close to my face. The ruby gleamed at me. I turned it over, looking closer, wondering if it had markings like the golden ball. Unfortunately, it didn’t. But still. It had been my father’s. I talked to it as if it was him. Silly, I know. “I could really use your help.”
I put the necklace on and held the smooth jewel between my thumb and finger. Mom had told me my dad said it amplified abilities. I wondered if it might help me control mine. I’d always felt my magic rumbling inside of me like a constant stream of water, rushing through my veins. I felt the energy everywhere: in my toes, in my fingertips. I even felt it in my hair, if that made any sense. With the necklace on, it was as if the stream slowed to a crawl. Like a calm fell over me. Was this what it felt like to be normal? It was peaceful, I had to admit.
For a long while, I stared outside the window in front of my desk, watching cars and trucks infrequently drive by. I kept my hand on the necklace, absentmindedly stroking it, as my busy mind thought about what to do next. A creak sounded behind me. Mom stood in the doorjamb with her gaze set on the hardwood floor.
“Hey,” I said quietly. I was still angry about her lies, and hurt knowing what she thought about me, but I didn’t have it in me to let it divide us. We were all we had.
She pointed to my neck. “It looks beautiful on you.”
“Thank you.”
“Are you sure that’s a good idea? Wearing it?”
I shrugged. “I don’t know. But somehow I feel…better…with it on.”
Her expression was unreadable. “Any luck?”
“None of the numbers work. Is it possible all of the witches he knew have moved?”
She ventured inside the room taking a seat on the tan colored armchair beside the desk. “Anything’s possible.”
Wasn’t that the truth? “I need a witch, Mom. A real one. Not someone who dabbles or relies on potions and spells. I need a magic-born witch.”
“Well, you’ve tried. That’s all you can do.”
I tipped my head to the side and frowned. “Because Laird would really understand that if I told him.”
She released a weary sigh. “He won’t hurt you.”
“But he might hurt you,” I said quietly.
She glanced out the window. “I really need to trim that bush.”
The purple flowers of a nearby lilac bush waved on the left-hand side of the wind
ow. I couldn’t believe how calm she was being right now. It kind of infuriated me.
“Aren’t you afraid?”
She shrugged. “No. Laird’s had years to hurt me and hasn’t. He pretends to be cold and unfeeling, but a lot of it is an act.”
“You might think you’re safe, Mom, and I hope to God you’re right. But I don’t trust him to do the right thing. Not after Seth.”
Her face softened as she gave me a weak smile. “Maybe that’s why you should. Maybe he regrets it.”
I chuckled darkly. “I don’t think so. I think he crossed a line he can’t uncross, and it only proves what he’ll do for the supposed good of the pack.”
“I guess we’ll see.”
We certainly would. I hoped I was wrong. “Mom, is there anyone not in this book that could help? Maybe someone you met or who Dad talked about?”
She propped an elbow on the arm of the chair and put her chin on the palm of her bent arm. “No,” she said quietly, though it sounded weak.
I never thought Mom ever lied to me until yesterday. Had I overlooked the signs? Because I never expected it. I could see through her lie now, in the way her eyes shifted around the room, briefly resting on everything but me.
“Mom? I don’t want to be angry about you lying to me. I should, but I don’t want to. I know you did what you thought was right, but I’m an adult now. I make decisions for myself, and I can’t do that when I’m missing information. The lies have to stop. Now. Because the next time you lie to me, I’m not sure I’ll ever be able to trust you again. And that would break my heart.”
“I don’t want them near you.”
“This isn’t just for the pack anymore.” And it wasn’t. “If there is someone you know who can teach me more about myself, then I want to know who they are. I want to know more about Dad and his family. I want to know who I would have been if Dad had lived long enough to teach me everything he knew.”
“You’re the same person you would have been. The magic is irrelevant.”
“But it’s not. It’s part of me, like an arm or a leg. I can’t be cured of it no matter how long I ignore it.” I took a long, deep breath to calm myself.
“So you’ll find a witch or a warlock, and then you’ll what? Forget about your life in Gravewood?”
I groaned and ran a hand through my hair. “I don’t know! But if I did, that would be my choice. Not yours.”
She waved off the idea, and her face hardened. Magic made her so uncomfortable. She couldn’t know how ugly she made me feel when she looked at me like I was less than. Even if she didn’t mean to.
She leaned back against the soft fabric of the chair and released a long sigh. I worried my lip between my teeth, hoping she would decide to do the right thing, but after all these reasons, I wasn’t sure if she would.
“Please, Mom,” I said softly.
She hung her head and shook it and let out a cry of frustration. Her dark hair brushed over her chest. Stray tears dotted her lashes and as they fell she wiped them away and straightened her back. She held her head high. “There’s a bookstore. Bookish Journeys.”
I brightened and scrambled to write down the name in case she decided never to utter it again.
“Back in Milford,” she began. Milford had been the place I’d spent the first thirteen years of my life. I hadn’t been back since. “Your dad spent a lot of time there. I actually thought he was lying and cheating on me because he spent so much time there.” She chuckled and then her face fell as if caught in a memory that tugged at her heart. “I actually followed him. And he was there with Mr. Jenkins, the owner. I thought he liked books, but when I found out what he was, I wondered if maybe Jenkins was like him. Jenkins was odd himself. He always avoided people in town, and people liked to whisper about him.”
Though I didn’t remember the bookstore, I remembered Mr. Jenkins. My father had introduced me to him the few times we’d run into him running errands in town.
“Whisper how?”
She let out a short laugh. “I don’t remember everything. I remember hearing something about an odd relationship with a cat.”
I raised an eyebrow.
“Oh, not like that. He took it everywhere, and he talked to it, like it was a human. Included it in conversations. Then there was the time flames were spitting from the tree tops from where he lived and the fire department got called out there but when they got there, there was no fire. No damage. Nothing. No one ever figured out where the flames came from, but some good, upstanding people in the community saw them, and they swore to it.”
“Okay. That is a little strange.”
“It was. So, if I were you, I’d start with him. Just be careful. I don’t think he’s dangerous or anything. Your father liked him well enough, but you can never be too cautious when you’re dealing with…well, you know.”
People like me? “Thanks, Mom.” I tried not to sound offended.
She stood up and bent at the waist to press a gentle kiss to my forehead. Without another word, she left the room. When she returned a few moments later, I was searching for the book store on the Internet. My gaze flickered back to her, and then I did a double take. In her hands, she held a silver knife as long as my forearm. The end of the handle was circular and held a shiny green gem, like an emerald. It was too large to be real.
“You might need this.”
“Was this Dad’s?”
“He told me if anything ever happened to him that you’d need this.”
I grimaced at her.
She lifted a hand up in surrender and when it fell it made a slapping noise as it hit her thigh. “I’m giving it to you now. You asked for honesty, and I’m trying to give that to you. Don’t be angry with me. I’m doing my best.”
I released a weary sigh. “Is there anything…special about it?”
“Beats me. Though he once said he never went anywhere without it. Last night, after you crawled into bed with me, I dreamed of him. He told me I couldn’t protect you anymore. That I had to let you protect yourself. I thought maybe he’d meant for me to give you this.”
“You think it was really him?” I wished I had dreams of him. I missed him so much and I needed him now. More than I had in a very, long time.
Her voice trembled. “I don’t know, but I’d like to think so. If anyone could find a way to speak to me beyond the grave, I have to believe it would be your father.”
I took the knife from her and was surprised how heavy it felt it in my hand. I gripped the smooth, braided leather handle tightly. I’d never handled a weapon like that before. I hoped to God I’d have no reason to use it.
Eight
It was an hour’s drive to Milford. Laird had told me not to leave town, but since leaving town was for his benefit I decided I could easily justify it. I was being stubborn, of course. I didn’t like him telling me what I could and couldn’t do. Mason had done that to me a fair bit without actually ever saying anything. He’d give me a look, I’d know what had upset him, and I’d fix it. I thought I was compromising so it was okay. With Laird, there was no compromising. So, I’d push him. Just a little. Because it felt good. I would have to find something good in Milford though if I wanted to avoid a fight. It was possible I would strike out, but my gut told me that wouldn’t be the case. If Dad had spent a lot of time in this Bookish Journeys store, then there had to be a good reason for it. Dad wasn’t a big reader or lover of books. He had his spell book. I couldn’t remember him reading anything else. It pained me that Mom had worried he was cheating. It must have hurt her so much. I just hoped the store was there still, and also Mr. Jenkins. No amount of searching on the Internet had turned up the store.
Milford was in farm country. Its population barely topped ten thousand when I’d lived there. It couldn’t have been much more now. I knew I was close when I saw the cows in the massive grass fields and passed the rows of tall stalks of corn and grains. Milford had a small-town center, not much more than a single road, actually. They had what
they needed: a small bank, a post office in an old stone building, a handful of restaurants, a grocery store with fresh local produce, and a general store, but that was about it. Except for the little bookstore. Anything people needed that they couldn’t find in town, they’d take the relatively short drive to Gravewood. It was only a two-hour drive away, after all.
I pulled over on the side of the road by the bookstore. It looked like a small Victorian home with a wraparound porch. I wouldn’t have known it was a business if it weren’t for the sign out front.
I got out of the car and shielded my eyes from the sun as I took in the intricate carved wood by the roof and around the windows. Then I approached it, hopeful.
I opened the door, and a black cat meowed at my feet. I smiled at it and crouched to stroke it. She purred and leaned against my legs as she rubbed against me. This must have been the cat the townies liked to gossip about.
“Hey, there,” I whispered to the cat.
The foyer was bare but for a bench and an antique, dark-stained table with a mirror above it. Off to either side were rooms stacked with bookshelves. I turned left and spied the plants in the window. Ivy grew from pots above the shelves, and they cascaded over the top and down the sides of the rows.
“Hello?” I called out.
I didn’t get a response right away.
The cat meowed at me again. She stood in the doorjamb and turned and walked into the room across from the one I stood in. I followed her through a short hallway into another room with more plants. In fact, the room was overstuffed with plants in an array of colors and sizes. That’s when I saw him: a man with white hair that stuck out every which way. He wore spectacles, and he tipped his head down to regard me from over top of them. He didn’t look exactly as I’d remembered him, but it had been years.
“Oh, Elizabeth, I didn’t know we had company,” he said.
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