by J L Collins
9
The Manor
Without too much more of a mess, Fiona-Leigh and I made it back downstairs just in time for both the aunts to descend upon us like werewolves would upon a raw steak.
“We can fix this,” Aunt Bee announced, tugging on the hem of my favorite t-shirt. “Don’t worry, dear.”
“I wasn’t worrying,” I muttered as the short sleeves grew and turned into a bright green summery over-cloak, not unlike one I used to wear as a teenager. “Next time, let me handle it.”
“Um, Mom?”
I spun to see Aunt Ginevra whipping her wand around, her trademark orange sparks twirling all around Fiona-Leigh until she was wearing a simple midnight blue dinner gown, her hair done up in elegant spirals pinned in the back. I fought back a frown as I remembered all the times I’d tried to do something with her stick-straight hair like that with a curling iron, to no avail.
“Perfect,” Aunt Ginevra crooned, cupping Fiona-Leigh’s face. “You are such a beauty, lass. It’s a shame Nat and Maureen couldn’t be here to witness it.”
“Could you imagine my brother with a beautiful granddaughter like her? Oh, he’d keep a cane on his person at all times too, wouldn’t he? But only to beat the would-be suitors off with it!” Aunt Bee cackled.
Fiona-Leigh’s cheeks flushed a rosy pink. “Thank you,” she finally replied, moving to stand next to me. “What are you wearing, Mom?”
I looked down to see that not only had Aunt Bedelia changed me into a traditional cloak, but I too was wearing a simple dinner dress, this one in a very familiar color of lilac. I raised a brow at Aunt Bee. “Interesting color choice,” I said quietly.
She clapped her hands together. “Who’s ready for some food?”
By the time we made it down to the large dining room, I had to fight back a smile as I watched Fiona-Leigh’s expression. Serving platters and goblets were setting themselves lightly on the table, rearranging until they were in a neat and orderly appearance. A giant blood red tablecloth bearing the Brady family crest flew from the credenza in the corner of the room and hovered over the bare table. Slowly, it began to unfold and laid itself out on the table nice and neatly, followed by the plates and silverware, the rolls of napkins zooming in from the kitchen quickly after.
“Did that really just happen?” She said out loud, more to herself than to me.
But I answered her anyway, leaning in by her ear. “Just like Marina always says when she does one of those Ollie things on her skateboard . . . you ain’t seen nothing yet.”
Aunt Ginevra guided us to our seats, just in time for a spoonful of soup to ladle itself into each of our soup bowls.
“This is so crazy. Is it like this all the time?” Fiona-Leigh asked, looking around the table at the three of us.
“Usually,” a deep voice answered. We turned to see Uncle Gardner had entered the dining room, his hands folded behind his back. “But I think it’s more of a special occasion sort of thing tonight.” He took his seat at the head of the table.
“Interesting. But who does all the magic? You?” Fiona-Leigh asked, ignoring Uncle Gardner’s stoic expression.
“I handle the dinners,” Aunt Ginevra answered, placing her wand beside her plate and bowl. “It’s one of my favorite things to do. I love to entertain people. And it’s been so long since we’ve had anyone come to visit, right Gardner?”
He nodded, unfolding his napkin and placing it in his lap. “It has been a while, yes.”
“Thank you for taking the time out to handle dinner for us, Aunt Ginevra,” I said with a smile. “A nice home-cooked meal sounds delicious.”
“Probably because we never have them at home. My mom isn’t exactly known for her cooking skills,” Fiona-Leigh added, slowly sipping her soup. “Usually we just order takeout, or we have sandwiches. Something easy like that. It’s too bad there’s no magic where we live — it wouldn’t hurt to have real food every now and then.”
“Fi, don’t be ridiculous. Of course I cook you food. It’s not always, you know, the greatest food. I’m not a gourmet chef or anything, but you know, I try. . .” I chuckled nervously, trying my best to ignore the burning in my cheeks.
But I could see this was going in an entirely different direction with her. “Yeah. I guess you do try. But is that because you don’t have magic? I mean, I really don’t know how any of this works.” She looked around at the rest of the faces at the table, shrugging. “My mom never told me about magic or what she was. Or any of it, really. It was just one big, fun secret. Right, Mom?”
“That’s enough, Fiona-Leigh,” I said quietly. “We can continue this conversation later.” I looked around and noticed that someone was missing, trying to steer the conversation elsewhere. “Where’s Erie, anyway? Shouldn’t she be having dinner with us?”
“I believe she went out to eat with Houghlin. Something about not wanting to encroach on our dinner?” Aunt Ginevra answered.
The silence that followed while we waited for our next round of food was nearly deafening. All the things I wanted to say were getting caught in my throat, and I couldn’t manage the words just yet. I wanted to know what life had been like since I had left Spell Haven, but it didn’t seem like this was the time to bring it up. Besides . . . we had bigger fish to fry.
“Have you given much thought to your course of action? Whether or not you want to help find Tristan?” Uncle Gardner said, after finishing up the last couple of bites of his meat pie.
I cleared my throat and nodded. “I do agree we need to find him, especially if members of the Dark Market are out looking for him, too. Whatever you need me for, I’ll do my best to help.”
It was something I had been thinking a lot about. Even if Tristan had done something completely wrong, and how, even if my brother had in fact murdered his boss of sorts, I wanted to be the one to find him. What I was going to do when I did find him . . . Now that was a different story.
“You’ll need help,” he replied. “And while I have been leading the investigation, I’ll be needed there at headquarters. So I’ll be sending someone else to work with you, instead.”
I hadn’t wanted to admit it, but I was definitely relieved to hear Uncle Gardner say this awkward as the tension was between us, it was better than I thought to see him again. I had trained under my uncle for years, and he had all but given me the top title as the Shadow Hand Inquisitor. But I had let him down in more ways than he was willing to tell me, and Uncle Gardner’s trust isn’t easily gained and possibly never regained. It felt a little like coming back home with my tail between my legs at that point.
“I’m eager to get started,” I replied, taking a bite of my own food.
Later, once the manor house was quiet and almost everyone else was sleeping, I finished cleaning up in the washroom and was just about to open the door to my old room (where, funny enough, nothing had been changed, it seemed) when I heard Aunt Bee talking to Fiona-Leigh.
“Oh the two of them, just you wait. They were nearly inseparable. Erie with her head in the clouds, so compassionate about others, especially animals. And your mother, so tenacious, so fiery. They balance each other out well, I’d like to think,” Aunt Bee laughed.
“My mom? It’s so weird to think that about her. Usually she’s always so worried about something, I guess it sort of burnt the fire out of her a little.”
I felt like I was intruding, listening in on their conversation, but it didn’t mean I was ready to walk away just yet, and I leaned in even closer.
“Isobel is Gardner’s oldest daughter, and she was very quiet, timid even. And Reaghan, she was the spoiled one. Always going on about the latest fashions and wanting to make sure everyone knew she was the first to get asked to the annual Spell Haven Ball. Erie was a little different. She never cared about things like that, and I think your mother really looked up to her because of it. But even then, none of Gardner’s daughters wanted to carry on working in the MARC like he had done, and our father before him. So when your
mother showed interest in doing so, he took her on as if she were his youngest child, training her much earlier than her peers. He knew it was a great challenge to try and train an Alchemist Witch into doing the job of a Siren Witch. No one had done it before your mother, mind you. But Gardner, he saw that fire burning in Gwendolyn. He always told us she would become the next legend in our history. The first Alchemist Shadow Hand. I think he wanted to be part of that legend, too.” Aunt Bedelia sighed, and I heard the light go out in the room.
“But I don’t understand. If mama was supposed to be this legend, why did she leave?” Fiona-Leigh finally said, sounding just as tired as I felt.
I could almost see the look on my aunt’s face as the wooden floor creaked under her weight. “Because to your mother, becoming a legend wasn’t the most important thing.”
10
The Memories
“Dang it.”
I looked down at my favorite pair of Nikes. I pulled out my wand and closed my eyes to better concentrate and see what I needed to focus on, swishing my wand about. I opened them and smiled at my latest handiwork. Instead of the white and black sneakers, I was now a proud owner of a pair of selkie-skin boots. The thin material was breathable, but engineered with some of the strongest thread our magic was capable of—a mix of ground fairy figs and glowworm silk.
Fiona-Leigh wasn’t in her room, so I headed downstairs, the overwhelming smell of my favorite griddle cakes wafting up from the kitchen. My stomach growled.
“Fiona-Leigh?” I called out to her, not at all surprised to see Erie flipping through a book with her at the end of the small kitchen table.
“And here’s one of me, my sisters Isobel and Reaghan, and your mom. I think she was probably three or four at the time. We just got back from going swimming in the river.”
Fiona-Leigh shook her head. “Geez, that towel is huge compared to the rest of her head!”
“Good morning,” I said, strolling over to them.
Erie looked up from the book. “Hey, Gwen. You hungry?”
“Starving, actually. What are you two looking at there?”
I leaned over her shoulder to see an older picture of me and my cousins standing from shortest to tallest, soaking wet with towels wrapped around our heads. Fiona-Leigh was right, mine was nearly the size of the rest of my body.
“Oh, you know. Embarrassing pictures. I was just about to pull out the picture of your first ball,” Erie said, waggling her pale eyebrows at me.
Blegh. The absolute last picture I wanted to see was one of me being escorted into the Spell Haven Square by sweaty-armed Rushnov Kiev, the only boy in my thirteen-year-old class who was willing to ask me out at the time. Apparently I scared the rest of them.
“Mm, memories. I think I’ll sit that one out,” I replied. “Need any help with the food?”
Fiona-Leigh, whether just realizing I was there or deciding to stop ignoring me, laughed. “I’d be careful if I were you, Erie. She’s been known to burn water.”
I rolled my eyes. So it was going to be like this again, was it? As much as I hated the idea of waving it around in her face, literally, I shrugged. “It’s only a little bit of magic.”
“Yeah but . . . When was last time you did any real magic?” she asked, pretending to inspect her fingernails, which I knew she had a bad habit of biting down to the quick.
“Hey now. I still know what I’m doing.” Two could play this game.
I whipped out my wand, still amazed at how natural it felt even now, and waved it around until electric blue sparks flew out of the tip, turning into a mist that beckoned at the plates in the cupboards. Soon enough, three stacked plates along with three rolls of silverware neatly landed on the table in front of Fiona-Leigh. I waited until the plates had settled down, and then without even needing to look, gave a little flick of the wand and poured some hot chocolate complete with tiny little marshmallows into a mug in midair. The mug settled itself down in between Fiona-Leigh’s hands.
“You can go ahead and pick it up. The mug will be room temperature, I expect.”
“Whew, lass, I think you’d better mind your words a little better with your mother. There’s a reason they used to call her the Spell Maven from Spell Haven, you know,” Erie whispered to her.
There was no way to wipe the smug smile from my face as Fiona-Leigh sat back, looking somewhat perplexed at what just happened. And when she took a slow sip and her eyes closed of their own accord, I looked over at Erie and winked.
“Remember how we used to sneak into the kitchen at night?” She nudged me.
I watched Fiona-Leigh but nodded. “Oh yeah. First it was for a late-night snack of those delicious giggle cookies your mom kept locked away in the cabinets at the very top. But then it turned into —”
“— the midnight margaritas!” Erie finished for me, the both of us laughing to ourselves. “How could I ever forget? And then my dad caught us that one night! Do you remember the look he gave us? Oh man, he looked at me as if he was ready to skin me alive. But you? He just gave you a stern warning as if you couldn’t possibly do anything wrong.” She clucked her tongue, slowly shaking her head. “You always were his favorite. Even between me and my sisters.”
I snorted. “That hardly counts now. Your dad won’t even look me in the eyes anymore, much less hold any kind of conversation. I think it’s safe to say that I’m the problem child now.”
She simply shrugged, stirring at the cauldron that was hanging over the open fire. “Well, at least you’re back home.”
Home. I could see how my showing up out of the clear blue would leave everyone else wondering what my intentions were. Sure, they knew I wanted to find my brother, but what did they think would happen after? I just didn’t want this to turn into one of those scenes from the sequel movies where the ‘gang’s getting back together.’ Tristan meant a lot to me, despite all the reasons he’d given me to think otherwise, but I still had my daughter to think about and protect. I set my shoulders back. “Yep.”
I watched with growing interest as Erie fought to stir the brew in her cauldron harder and harder, as if she were fighting back a strong river current. Leaning over the boiling concoction, I inhaled and nearly coughed up the few bites of bacon I’d sneaked. “Oh my god, this smells like the bottom of a cow’s hoof! What in the world is in here?” I asked, waving my hand in front my face as I stood back.
“As a master potions-maker I’m surprised you don’t already know,” Erie chuckled next to me. “Right now, it’s just a mixture of some Arcadian grass seed, Gaia Flower, and a bit of vodka to sterilize it. Once I’m finished however, it’ll be a much-needed Happy-Go-Lucky potion. I thought certain . . . individuals might benefit from some. Or would that be too much, do you think?”
“Are you sure it’ll work? I mean, if it does, more power to you. I think I’ll take any help at this point,” I whispered, looking over at Fiona-Leigh who was busy flipping through the rest of the photo book and finishing up her hot chocolate.
Breakfast was over too soon, in my humble opinion. But maybe that was because I knew what came after.
“So what am I supposed to do while you’re off going on adventures and stuff?” Fiona-Leigh whined as I sat down next to her.
I placed my hand on her arm, ignoring the fact that she shrugged away from it. “Adventures? Hardly. I’m just going over to the MARC headquarters with Uncle Gardner for now. We’ll probably go over the investigation a little bit before I do anything else. I thought maybe you could hang out here with the aunts. Do a little sightseeing, that kind of thing. I mean you are in a magical town. Don’t you want to, you know, take a look around?”
“Actually, Gwen, I was thinking I could take Fiona-Leigh along with me and see how she likes the Menagerie. What do you think?” Erie turned to Fiona-Leigh, her eyebrows raised. I knew I was lucky to have her by my side in this whole thing, and watching her wanting desperately to connect with my daughter only made me that much more sure.
“The Me
nagerie. That’s like a zoo of sorts, right? What kind of animals do you keep there?”
Erie leaned down with her hands splayed on the table, a smile on her face. “It wouldn’t really be much of a surprise if I told you firsthand, now would it? Why don’t you follow me? Your mom was telling me about how you’re wanting to become a veterinarian? That’s an animal doctor in the Human Realm, so think of me as a sort of magical veterinarian.”
Fiona-Leigh’s mouth popped open.
“It seems I’ve got her attention,” Erie said looking up at me. “You go to do whatever boring stuff it is you need to do with Dad. I think Fiona-Leigh will be just fine with me.”
I looked between them. “Are you sure?”
“Mom. I’m not a baby. And Erie will be with me, it’s all good. I promise.” Fiona-Leigh turned to Erie with a huge grin on her face. “Okay, so we’re talking magical creatures. Like what kinds? So many questions. Do any of them talk? Can any of them fly? None of them eat people, right?”
I chuckled as I left the kitchen, rolling my eyes.
11
The Shadow Hands
I pulled open the door to the transporter. For a brief moment, I patted down my pockets struck with pure anxiety, looking for the keys until my hand brushed over my wand. Duh, Gwen. Magic.
Sliding inside the carriage-like small vehicle, I racked my brain for the right spell. It had been practically forever since I last drove one.
With bigger spells, like operating heavy machinery for instance, it paid to say the spell out loud—especially if like me, you were a little rusty around the edges. “Wieldy trees made from oak, drops of oil and air of smoke. With the speed of the hopping toad, send me down the proper road!”
The transporter sprang to life under me, and I jumped, desperately wishing there was a seatbelt involved in the stupid contraption as it bounced onto the dirt road that led out of the manor’s grounds.
