Lily leaned forward, curiosity drawing her out as it always did. “That sounds fascinating. What are you researching? What are your sources? Do you have any original documents?”
A genuine smile touched John Faust’s face. “Slow down, Lily. I can see you share my thirst for knowledge. Soon, I’ll show you my study and workshop. There is so much to learn, so much I want to teach you. Now that you’ve returned, however, we have plenty of time for all that. For the moment, I’ll say that my primary area of research is our family history, the LeFay line. We are descended from some of the greatest wizards of all time. I want to uncover their wisdom and use it to ensure the survival of wizardkind.”
“The survival of wizardkind?” Lily asked, cocking her head.
“Yes...” John Faust said, pausing contemplatively as he gazed at her. “It is a multi-faceted situation that you would better understand once you know your own history.”
Lily’s heart began to beat faster, and she leaned forward even more, her apprehension swallowed up by her burning desire to know the truth. “Tell me.”
John Faust sat back in his chair, hands resting lightly on its arms, his onyx ring shining dully in the fading light. The chair’s winged back cast a shadow on his face that was only partially dissipated by the lights high above. His eyes glinted brightly amidst the shadow, always watchful, as he began.
“Your mother and I met at university. Oxford is one of the few schools left with wizards in residence. I believe there are only two, now, since Dr. Grootenboer retired. Upwards of a hundred and twenty, I believe she is, though she didn’t look a day older than eighty the last time I saw her.
“Freda...your mother,” he added when he saw Lily’s look of confusion. “Obviously she changed her name, or else I might have found you long ago. In any case, Freda was only at Oxford for a semester, but it was an eventful one. She was so bright, so intelligent and full of life. We spent many hours together, and I enjoyed showing her around the city. We took trips to London and my favorite countryside spots. England is a beautiful and magical place, when the sun shines in any case.” He shook his head, as if trying to dislodge old memories. “It was one of the happiest times of my life. Once she left I had to endure a whole year before I graduated and was able to join her in America.
“Our relationship was not looked upon with favor. Freda’s family is of French and Italian descent, and they disapproved of English wizards on principle. My parents were pleased at Freda’s pedigree—she’s an almost direct descendant of the Flamel line, after all. As you know, certain wizard families have chosen to intermingle with mundanes, diluting their blood and, for all intents and purposes, abandoning their heritage. Freda’s family was not one of those; their blood was still pure. Yet, they did not maintain a social status worthy of wizards. My mother in particular was not satisfied with their social standing—they were in the restaurant business, for goodness’ sake. Not exactly the English heiress my mother had envisioned for me.”
Working to keep her face passive, Lily refrained from voicing her disapproval at such a medieval attitude. She supposed it was how he’d been raised to think. But that was no excuse, surrounded as they were by a modern, enlightened society.
“Yet, we persevered,” he continued, “and against all odds were wed and came to live here with my parents. You were born soon after. It was the happiest day of my life, knowing our legacy would continue.” With the sun now completely set, the lighting in the library seemed to shine more brightly and Lily could see the fond smile on John Faust’s face. “You were the most precocious, troublemaking child. Quiet and observant, but unable to keep your hands to yourself. If it wasn’t bolted to the floor or suspended from the ceiling, you found a way to get hold of it.”
Lily blushed, looking away from those vivid blue eyes that never once wavered from her face. She remembered very little from her childhood. Her earliest memories were of her mother and of growing up in Alabama. She felt there should have been more, that this house ought to feel familiar. But her early childhood was as blank as river-washed slate, empty of even the vaguest impressions or feelings, almost as if they’d been erased or locked away.
“After you were born, your mother changed,” John Faust said, voice fading and eyes drifting, gazing into the past. “To this day, I haven’t the slightest notion what prompted it, but she became secretive. She stopped using magic and became irritable when it was used around her. Though you showed an amazing aptitude even as a toddler, she wouldn’t allow magic anywhere near you. Beyond a few standard tests for wizard children I performed to ascertain your abilities, she refused to let me teach you anything or cast any spells on you. Even when you were sick she insisted on a mundane doctor, of all the foolish things.
“Finally, when you were almost two, she took you and disappeared without a trace. She left a note claiming she no longer felt safe and not to look for either of you. I can only suppose she grew so paranoid and afraid of magic that she became obsessed with protecting you from it. I’ve wondered for over two decades what could have caused so drastic a change. She was such a skilled wizard and helped me with my research before you were born.” Eyes distant, John Faust shook his head sadly.
“We contacted her family, but they had not heard from her and had no knowledge of her alarming transformation. We considered informing the police, since Freda had technically kidnapped you according to the law. But I loved her and only wanted her and my little girl back. I did not wish to cause more grief. So I continued my own private investigation, year after year, always hoping but never finding a trace. Until now, that is.”
John Faust shifted, leaning forward in his chair and folding his hands in front of him. He gazed at them in contemplation, speaking as if to himself. “When I saw you in Pitts, I was so taken aback by how much you looked like your mother that I didn’t know how to respond. You acted as if I were a complete stranger, and I did not know you were my daughter, I only suspected. So I kept silent. I didn’t even know what name you went by. I might never have found you, seeing as how you pushed me through a wrinkle in the time loop before I had a chance to speak to you.” Looking up at her from under his brows, he smiled wryly, almost proudly. “A quick bit of thinking, that was. It took me a long while to find my way out again, and by then you were both long gone.
“But, all was not lost. Do you know why?” he asked, sitting back up and fixing her again with his intense gaze.
She shook her head mutely.
“You said his name. The Blackwell boy. You spoke his first name. I could not find you, but I could find Sebastian Blackwell. The family is well known to me. Historically, the Blackwells have striven to remain hidden, but apparently that legacy was not passed on to Sebastian. He was easy to find, even in a city as big as Atlanta. Apparently he fancies himself a witch, though no real witch advertises himself. Only the charlatans do that.” Lily bristled at his implication, wanting to jump to her friend’s defense, despite the fact that she’d called Sebastian a fool as well as a charlatan on numerous occasions. Yet, she remained silent, guessing by his tone that John Faust would not be convinced of any of Sebastian’s merits anytime soon.
“After I found Mr. Blackwell, it was a simple matter of elimination. He doesn’t have many associates, and none as respectable as you. As soon as I saw your name on the Agnes Scott staff listing, I knew. Freda was always partial to the name Lillian.
“So I sent you a letter and hoped you would respond. And here you are. Home at last, where you belong.” He fell silent, face inscrutable, though his eyes never left her.
A long silence followed. Not awkward, exactly, simply expectant. John Faust gazed at her, relaxed yet watchful like a cat, waiting for her to make the next move. Lily looked away, not wanting to hold that gaze. It felt as if he could perceive her innermost thoughts and feelings just from a look, and she didn’t like her defenses being swept aside so easily. Of course, that assumed she knew her innermost thoughts and feelings.
Frankly, she didn’t
know what to think. His story, though enlightening, did not surprise her. Her mother, whom she knew as Mary, had always seemed like a normal woman. She’d been a loving and caring mother, and Lily could make no complaints. The only oddity was her rabid aversion to discussing her past. During Lily’s teenage years, when she’d begun to feel her difference more acutely and to start searching for a reason why, Mary had been immovably resistant to her doing anything out of the ordinary. She hadn’t allowed fantasy books or movies in the house, forcing Lily to explore that facet of pop culture on the sly at school or the library. So John Faust’s explanation of what had happened rang true, though it left her just as clueless as him as to why.
Then there were her feelings toward John Faust himself. She still couldn’t quite internalize that he was her father. She’d always assumed her father had been some sort of criminal or terrible person, for her mother to cut off all contact and refuse to discuss him. Yet here he sat, a wealthy, courteous, well-spoken individual. Yes, she still felt some misgivings from their encounter in Pitts. But his actions were understandable, given his perspective. He was an intense, intimidating man. That wasn’t his fault, simply his personality. She wanted to be angry with him for being absent from her life, yet it hadn’t been his choice. It was her mother’s actions, not her father’s, that had deprived her of a relationship with him. Alternatively, she wanted to be angry with her mother. But she’d been angry with her mother for so long that she no longer felt much toward her except emptiness and loss. She couldn’t even be angry with her stepfather, who had always been kind to her, even if he did favor her stepbrothers and sisters. She’d always been the odd one out, the one who didn’t fit.
Now she was discovering her true family, a place where she did fit. Yet, she found little satisfaction in the answers she’d sought for so long. Knowing was a relief, but if this was where she belonged, why did she still feel so out of place?
“What is my birth name?” she finally asked, breathing the question in an almost hesitant whisper that eased into, rather than shattered, the silence.
“Lilith Igraine LeFay,” her father responded. He said the name with a reverent tenderness that shook her to the core, while the power he put into those three words sent tingles dancing across her skin. She felt…something. Not familiarity so much as history. She was not Lily Singer, the person she’d always thought she was, but rather a stranger named Lilith. Her head hurt just thinking about it, and she suddenly felt too emotionally drained to deal with it all.
“I think...I’ve had enough for tonight,” she said, standing slowly.
John Faust stood as well. “It’s a great deal to take in, I know. I’m sure you’re tired. Let me show you to your room and we can speak more tomorrow.”
“Thank you,” she said, hoping her relief wasn’t too evident.
They exited the library and took a staircase off the hall to the second floor. This story was no less finely adorned, but the rooms were geared more toward comfort than display. They passed numerous bedrooms and sitting rooms, a reading room and study. Finally, he opened the door to a room whose decor looked more modern, though still elegant. A sleek chest-of-drawers stood by a finely carved dressing table and stool. The canopy bed, though large, was outfitted with plain sheets and had only two sleeping pillows, instead of the pile of embroidered, decorative fluff that usually littered guest beds. On the bed lay her suitcase, purse, and shoulder bag.
Entering the room, she suddenly remembered the man who wasn’t a man that had gathered her bags from the car. She turned to John Faust. “Did my eyes deceive me, or do you have constructs for servants?”
His mouth quirked and he seemed pleased. “Actually, yes, we do. There are several my parents brought from England who’ve been in the family for centuries. I’ve added a few of my own, of course. They cook the food, clean the house, keep the grounds, things we would otherwise have to hire mundanes for, and that wouldn’t do. The only human servants are my father’s butler and my mother’s maid, both initiates.”
“Initiates?” Lily asked
“Ah, apologies. I forget that, not being raised in a traditional wizard household, some terms we use may be foreign to you. Initiates are what we call members of wizard families who were not born with the gift. They are more common in diluted lines, but even the most pure families have them. Part of my research involves understanding what this magical gene is and why some have it while others do not. Suffice it to say, initiates are those who know and keep our secrets. They are our aides, servants, butlers, and managers.”
Lily nodded, thinking of Mr. Baker at the Clay Museum.
“Should you need anything, cast this spell,” John Faust demonstrated, a simple command of attendance, “and the nearest construct will see to you. I’ll teach you their names later, so you can call each one at will.” He then turned and pointed to a small pull cord by the doorframe. “Mr. Fletcher, the butler, manages the household and attends my father, but will respond if he is needed. Simply pull the bell. The bathroom is through there,” he pointed to a door in the corner, “and should already be stocked with all the necessities. Have a restful evening and I will see you in the morning.” He gave one of his polite smiles that didn’t reach the eyes and turned to leave the room. As he began to close the door, he turned back. “I forgot to mention. It would be unwise to wander the house at night. It is very large and has unexpected turns and staircases. Also, there are magical protections on the house and grounds that respond...adversely to intruders. Until you become familiar with everything, I recommend you stay in your room. Should you need anything, simply call and a construct will assist you.”
“Thank you. I’ll keep that in mind,” Lily said.
He finally left, closing the door softly behind him. Relaxing fully for the first time since she’d arrived, Lily wearily unpacked her essentials, changed, and fell into bed. She fell asleep quickly, tired as she was, but awoke several times in the night, momentarily panicked at the unfamiliar surroundings. Each time, she thought she heard distant moaning echoing through the house. But it was so faint and erratic she couldn’t tell where it was coming from, or even if it was real, rather than a figment of her tired and restless mind.
* * *
She was woken by a brightness beyond her eyelids and a rustle of cloth as of heavy curtains being flung back.
“Goodness, Lily! Still abed at this hour? That won’t do at all.” The refined yet bossy voice of Ursula assaulted her ears. Lily sat up, blinking in the glare of morning light that streamed in through the curtains Ursula had just thrown open. The woman continued, “We have many things to do and only today to do them. I wish you’d been able to come sooner, but what’s done is done. Hurry now. Breakfast is already laid.”
Looking around blearily, Lily saw one of the constructs, this one with the seeming of a female. It hovered fretfully about Ursula as if commanded to attend but not knowing what to do, since Ursula had already done it.
“I...what things?” Lily asked, question interrupted by a splitting yawn.
“Why, new clothes, of course.” Ursula seemed surprised. “I commend you on your taste. Vintage has a certain...nostalgic charm to it, I’ll admit. But the quality is sadly lacking.”
“I thought John—”
“John had to leave early on urgent business,” Ursula cut her off. “But don’t fret, you’ll have plenty of time with him later. Today, you’re mine.” She flashed Lily a smug smile that would give even Sir Kipling a run for his money. “I have everything arranged. Just pop downstairs as quickly as you can and we can be on our way.”
With that, Ursula swept out of the room, followed by the still-fretting construct.
Bewildered and annoyed—she’d been hoping for a quiet morning in the library, just her and her eduba—Lily got out of bed, washed, and dressed in prompt fashion. Not hurrying, exactly, but not dawdling. She was, after all, curious to see what was going on, even if dealing with Ursula was like standing in the face of hurricane winds. She a
ssumed Ursula had planned this shopping trip as a bonding experience with her newly discovered granddaughter.
Lily navigated without too much trouble to the first floor, the smell of bacon and eggs helping to guide the way. Peeking through doors that opened off the west-wing hall, she first found the formal dining room. On the right—toward the center of the house—it opened into the grand ballroom, while the left-side door opened to the kitchens. Following her nose, she found a small breakfast room across the hall from the kitchen. No doubt this was where the family ate on less formal occasions.
Entering, she immediately noted Ursula’s absence and relaxed somewhat. At the head of the table sat Henry, hidden behind a spread of newspaper. He tilted it downward at her entrance, gave a nod, and retreated again behind it. The repast laid out on the white tablecloth was simple but delicious. Besides bacon and eggs were sausage, some sort of fried bread, and porridge. Lily noted the conspicuous lack of grits or biscuits and gravy. She supposed the elder LeFays brought their English cooks with them when they immigrated to America. There was also, to her great relief, a large pot of steaming tea. She made a beeline for it. From the smell, it was a rich blend of English Breakfast.
She ate hurriedly, not sure how much she would get through before Ursula reappeared. It was hard to focus on the food, however, when distracted by the fine china and silver of the breakfast service. She itched to turn some of it over and find the maker. Though no expert on antiques, Lily could hardly avoid developing a taste for them when shopping for vintage clothing at boutiques and antique stores.
Soon enough, Ursula came sweeping into the breakfast room, saw Lily’s half-empty plate, and announced they couldn’t wait a moment longer if they were to return in time. Dragged from the dining room, she followed Ursula out to the front steps and noticed her car was nowhere in sight. Perhaps one of the constructs parked it in the garage? As she examined the surrounding buildings, she spotted another lone crow, or perhaps raven, atop one of the house’s spires. It sat unnaturally still and almost appeared to be watching them.
Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Revelations Page 16
