It. Was. Huge. She’d never been to England, but she felt this place could give any of the royal palaces a run for their money. It was built completely of stone, its south-facing facade a mixture of yellow glow and grey shadow in the evening light. Directly in front of her was the main building, three stories tall with an impressive portico sheltering the front entrance. To either side were smaller, two-story wings which curved around as if embracing visitors with outstretched arms. The stonework was elegant, mostly smooth, but with carved edges and ornamental peaks here and there that added a feeling of ornate grandeur.
She was so absorbed in her awestruck examination that she didn’t notice the front door being opened. It wasn’t until she heard the questioning “Ahem?” that she looked down and noticed the man dressed in a crisp black-and-white butler’s uniform, holding the door open for her.
“I’m so sorry!” she apologized. “Give me just a moment to grab my things.”
“No need, Miss,” the man said. “They’ll all be brought up to your rooms for you.”
Even as he spoke, a second man emerged and descended the steps. As he approached, she realized with a start that he wasn’t a man at all. He certainly appeared human, but she could partially see through the shimmer of a glamour spell hiding his true form. Underneath he was quite clearly a mechanical construct, straight out of Ergonomics of Advanced Thaumaturgy. Such constructs were supposed to be very hard to make. She’d no idea any still existed. Her books talked as if the art had been lost and disused for years. But then, she wasn’t exactly an expert on current wizard’s culture.
“Come, Miss. He’ll collect your things. We don’t want to keep the master waiting.”
Bewildered, Lily almost stumbled up the front steps as she tried to keep an eye on the thing pulling luggage out of her trunk. She decided to let him do his job and focused on not tripping, finally making it to the top.
The finely dressed butler ushered her in with a bow and she stepped inside, trying to hide her awe at the vaulted ceiling and giant chandelier of the grand entryway.
“Ah! Here she is at last!” A refined female voice with a faint British accent spoke from the left. Lily turned to see a slender woman in a fashionable skirt and blouse approaching. The woman looked to be in her mid- to late sixties and had shining black hair, piled high in an artful arrangement of pins and hairspray that was reminiscent of the 1960s. Her heels clicked on the marble floor as she came forward, arms outstretched and an expression of appropriately restrained joy on her face.
“Lily, darling! You have no idea how long I’ve waited for this moment. Look how you’ve grown! You’re a perfectly beautiful young woman. Come here, let me see you.”
Frozen in shock, Lily couldn’t even recoil as the woman reached her and grasped her upper arms in a viselike grip. Turning her this way and that, she inspected Lily’s face before leaning in to kiss her firmly on each cheek and embrace her tightly.
“Mother! Good grief, let her go. You’re going to squeeze her to death.” A man’s voice spoke behind them, deep and rich. Familiar. The same voice that had spoken out of the several enchanted letters she’d received over the past week.
The woman pulled back and looked over Lily’s shoulder. “Nonsense. I’m entitled a little enthusiasm, aren’t I? After twenty-three years?”
Lily felt a firm hand on her shoulder that pulled her away from the woman’s clutches. Jarred into action, she recovered enough to step back even further, putting space between herself and the two strangers who acted entitled to her physical proximity. She wasn’t used to physical affection, much less a hug from a complete stranger.
“Ex—excuse me, but what is going on?” Her voice caught slightly, rough with surprise, but she tried to maintain a semblance of courtesy despite the indignity of their greeting.
The woman looked just as surprised as Lily felt, and she spoke quickly, cutting off whatever John Faust was trying to say. “What do you mean, dear? Didn’t John tell you? Good heavens, John, shame on you.”
“Mother, don’t, I—”
But the woman kept right on speaking, voice rising in agitation. “Why Lily, dear, don’t you recognize me? I am your grandmother after all.”
A roaring grew in Lily’s ears and her skin became clammy with sweat. She felt suddenly weak all over, lightheaded. She couldn’t process it. Her grandmother? That wasn’t possible. That would mean...John Faust...was her...
She fainted.
2
The Stories We Tell
Lily roused to a distinctly uncomfortable tickling in her nose and she jerked her head reflexively, trying to escape it. Of course, since she was lying down, head propped against something soft, all she achieved was a sort of sideways twitching motion.
“Ah, she’s coming round, Sir.”
Scrunching up her nose at the smell of ammonia, Lily opened her eyes to see the butler standing over her. He held a small, old-fashioned glass vial full of what appeared to be yellow salt. She put two and two together.
“Smelling salts?” she asked dazedly, mind still struggling to focus. “I had no idea people used those anymore.”
Another face loomed into her field of vision. The woman with The Hair. Wait...that was her grandmother. Or, she’d said she was. And that was when...
“Goodness, dear, are you quite alright? You gave us such a fright, collapsing like that. Are you unwell?”
“No...no, I...” Lily shifted, trying to sit upright as she examined the posh drawing room around her. It was full of expensive antiques, mostly Victorian in style, and lit by two chandeliers, smaller than the one in the entry hall but impressive nonetheless.
Hands helped her from behind, and pillows were placed to support her back as she attained an upright position in the camelback settee where she’d been laid. Now alert, she took stock of the people gathered ’round.
The Hair woman—she couldn’t bring herself to even think the word “grandmother”—had pulled up a chair and sat close, hovering with a frown of worry. Before the settee stood John Faust, straight and commanding in a gray suit and wearing an expression of concern as casually as he did the suit. Beside him stood an older man, his salt-and-pepper hair combed neatly to the side and wearing a cardigan vest that matched the color of his hair. His protruding belly and kindly, if passive, face were in sharp contrast to John Faust’s aura of sleek power. Cautiously, Lily opened her senses just enough to tell that all three were wizards, though the two elders’ magic was a pale shadow compared to John Faust’s blaze of glory.
“Might I fetch you a drink, Miss?” The butler’s voice distracted her, pulling her eyes from the group of strangers staring at her.
“Yes, please. Water would be fine,” she said, grateful that he, at least, was not a wizard. She wondered what he thought of all this magic around him. Surely he knew?
“At once, Miss.” The man left, disappearing through the drawing room doors and leaving her in awkward silence.
The silence didn’t last long. “Well, this is all a bit unsettling,” the woman said, reaching forward to grasp Lily’s hand with both of her cold, bony ones. “But we’re happy you’re here, safe at last.”
John Faust finally spoke, his gaze as piercing and intense as she remembered from their first meeting in Pitts. “I sincerely apologize for my mother’s behavior, Miss Singer. I had hoped to allow us time to get to know one another before making you aware of our...relationship.” The way he said the word, as if savoring every syllable, sent a shiver down Lily’s spine—whether from excitement or apprehension, she couldn’t tell.
“It is a sensitive and emotional matter, I am aware,” he continued, “and one for which, I suspect, you have long sought answers, as have I. All will be explained, but first, please let us make you comfortable. I had dinner prepared. Would you like some wine? Or perhaps brandy?”
“Oh, no, please. That’s very kind, but I’ve already eaten. I’d really just prefer to know what’s going on.” Being with so many strangers had her re
sponding with automatic politeness when all she really wanted to do was demand to know what the heck was going on.
“Now, sweetie, don’t be silly. Dinner and a nice glass of—”
“Mother, she said no.” John Faust’s clipped voice cut across the woman’s words. “I think Miss Singer needs a bit of space. This is all rather shocking, I’m sure you understand. Why don’t you and father go have dinner—I’ll take care of our guest.”
The woman looked ready to protest but instead pursed her lips and stood, finally releasing her clutching grip on Lily’s hand. “Don’t let him keep you long, Lily dear. I’ve waited twenty-three years to see my granddaughter. We have a lot of catching up to do. Come, Henry.” The last statement was aimed at the silent man behind John Faust, who turned to follow her clicking heels out the door, passing the butler, who entered carrying a glass of water.
“Here you are, Miss.” The butler handed her the glass and she drank slowly, feeling more relaxed already now that The Hair woman was gone. “Do you feel well enough to stand?” the butler asked, taking the now-empty glass.
“I’m fine, thank you,” she insisted, shifting to rise on her own before anyone could offer help. Despite her words, she did still feel faint. But she ignored the feeling as she stood, squaring up to the mysterious wizard who had started this whole chain of events and turned her world upside-down. They regarded each other in silence for a moment as the butler, a veteran of nonverbal communication, made himself appropriately scarce.
Now alone in the room with her father—because, of course, that was all he could be, that elusive familiarity reinforcing what her gut had already told her—she gazed long and hard into his eyes, searching for she knew not what. She’d waited so long for this day, this moment. And yet it had come upon her so suddenly she had no idea what to do or say. Feelings warred inside, distracting her thoughts and interrupting any attempt to form a sentence. Excitement, fear, hurt, longing, curiosity, anger, all of them jostled for attention and she felt exhausted just trying to sort them out.
His eyes never left hers, watching her watch him with an intensity that was simultaneously terrifying and thrilling. The desire in them was carefully controlled, but obvious. What did he desire? To know her, she assumed, and felt the same desire reflected in her own gaze. She’d spent her lifetime wondering, searching, wanting answers. Yet, she sensed something deeper in that desire, a hidden facet she couldn’t begin to guess at.
The only way to find out was to ask. John Faust remained silent—content, it seemed, to let Lily make the first move. She felt a sudden fond connection to the man, recognizing herself in him through their shared preference to observe and evaluate rather than initiate. She wondered if her reckless curiosity had also come from him.
“Father.” Lily tried out the word, her low voice hesitant. She saw the spark of desire flare in his eyes, obviously pleased at her use of the word. For some reason that put her off, and she withdrew into her shell, letting politeness take over.
“Mr. LeFay,” she began again. “Thank you for inviting me. The house and grounds are breathtaking. I look forward to seeing them better tomorrow.”
“Please, call me John,” he said, wise enough to not insist on a familial title he hadn’t yet earned. “You are more than welcome. It is your home as much as mine.” He spread his arms wide in welcoming, his expression becoming less calculated as it was overcome by sincere emotion. “I can’t express how pleased I am to see you, to have you here. I know we are strangers to each other now. But I hope, I believe, that will soon change. You are my future, my legacy, that has been lost to me for so long. To find you again...it is more than I could have hoped for.”
Ah. So that’s why he looked at her with such intensity. The realization made her relax a bit, even as the weight of what he’d said settled heavily on her shoulders. She still struggled to grasp the situation. If this man was really her father, that meant she was heir to...all this. This house, this island, this magic. The immensity of it frightened her. She’d never imagined that this was what had lain hidden in her past. What other momentous truths awaited her discovery?
“Lily? May I call you Lily?” John Faust asked, hesitant. Lily realized she’d been awkwardly silent, lost in thought, and nodded automatically in reply. She didn’t feel on first-name basis with this man, but he was her father...
“Lily, would you walk with me? We have much to discuss. Perhaps I could show you some of the house while we talk.”
She nodded again, eager to be moving and getting a feel for her surroundings, even if it meant more awkward conversation. John Faust led her out of the drawing room and across the grand entryway. Behind her she could hear muted conversation and the clinking of silverware, indicating where the dining room was. As they traversed the vaulted space that was the central nexus of the house, she could see a grand ballroom through double doors on her left. They opened between two sweeping staircases that rose, curving upward along the wall, to the second floor. Another parlor-type room opened ahead and to the right, its windows looking south out the front of the house and onto the fountain outside. Straight ahead John Faust led her, through another set of double doors and into a hallway that bisected the eastern wing of the house. Doors opened on either side along the hallway, revealing studies and sitting rooms.
“First,” he began as they walked, “allow me to fulfill my neglected duty of introductions. As you know, I am John Faust LeFay, heir to the LeFay line. You met my mother, Ursula, and my father, Henry. My family has lived here, at the LeFay estate, since the late 1950s when it was built in conjunction with the damming of Lake Lanier. As a family, we are only recently come to America from England. I was the first in my family to be born here. Most of my childhood was spent in English boarding schools and later at university, but I returned after graduating from Oxford.
“We live a quiet life. Father oversees the family business and our estates here and in England; mother tries to run everyone’s life and complains about the failings of American culture; and I—” he paused at the end of the hallway and turned to look at her with his piercing gaze, “—I seek answers.”
Lily raised an eyebrow, curious, but reluctant yet to voice an opinion. She was also distracted by the finery surrounding her, from the wood-paneled hallway lined with exquisite art in gilt frames to the antique French Aubusson rug she stood upon. She wondered absently if it was Louis XVI era or Napoleonic.
A knowing smile hovered on John Faust’s lips as he watched her survey the house. Catching her eye, he extended his arm in polite invitation to precede him into the next room. Lily stepped through the doorway and was immediately captivated. They’d entered a magnificent library. Its ceiling extended upward through the wing’s entire two-story height. Stairs led to a large landing on the northern side of the house, which then curved around to became a walkway along the west wall, providing access to the second story. Floor-to-ceiling shelves covered the walls, some of which were bathed in the fading glow of the setting sun, gleaming through enormous windows facing south and east. From the cushioned window seats set into the wall to the antique sofas, dark wood shelves, and old-book smell, Lily was in heaven. Based on her experience, she estimated a library this size contained upwards of eight thousand books.
Ignoring her host, she wandered the length of the room, running her fingers over rows of book spines and stopping occasionally to read a title. They were all shapes and sizes, many of them old, some leather-bound. Their titles ranged from history to politics, fiction, nonfiction, and more. She wished she could forget John Faust’s presence and simply luxuriate in the exquisite company of all these books.
With a fair amount of effort, she reined in her desire. She’d come here for answers and doubted they would be found in any of these tomes. Turning her back to the quickly darkening summer evening, she smiled at John Faust.
“This is a wonderful library. I would be quite content to never leave it.”
He smiled in return, though his smile didn�
��t quite reach his eyes. “Of course. Which is why I thought this would be an ideal place to converse, as far away from my mother as possible.”
“She does seem quite, um, exuberant,” Lily offered tentatively.
“Overbearing and controlling are the words you’re looking for,” he returned with no hint of shame. Taking a seat in one of the cushioned chairs, he motioned for her to do the same. “She’s a strong-willed and opinionated woman. Such traits could be disastrous, but combined with intelligence they are a credit to the family name. You just have to learn how to say no.”
Lily chose a seat on an antique couch opposite her father, its tufted cushions embroidered with silk threads in the shape of branching limbs covered in flowers. She fingered the threads, finding comfort in their elegant, smooth lines as she let the atmosphere of the library calm her. It reminded her of her own domain at the McCain Library, and she finally felt settled enough to begin sorting out the confused tangle inside her.
“So...you said before that you seek answers. What did you mean by that?” she asked, voicing the first question that came to mind.
“That question has more answers than there is time in the evening,” John Faust chuckled. “But to put it simply, I seek knowledge that has been lost and conduct research to add to the knowledge we already have. As I’m sure you’ve realized from your own studies, there is much about our wizard heritage that has been destroyed or simply vanished into the mists of time. I seek to discover and add to it.”
Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Revelations Page 15
