by Megan Marple
Fiona-Leigh dropped her gaze back to her feet. “How do you do it?”
“What? Magic?”
“Yes. How do you work magic? You don’t seem to need anything to do it,” she said, looking at Aunt Bee, “But I thought witches had to use wands and stuff?”
It was surreal having this particular conversation with Fiona-Leigh—one I thought I’d never have to have with her. “Well, she doesn’t because she’s a Siren. And a lot of witches do need wands, or any kind of magical amplifier to perform their spells. They’re called Alchemists.”
That seemed to satisfy Fiona-Leigh for a few minutes as we kept going, until she stopped short and spun back around to face me. “Which one are you? A Siren or an Alchemist?”
Aunt Bee softly laughed. “Something we’ve all asked your mother time and time again.”
I cut her off, still struck at how odd it was to tell Fiona-Leigh about all of this. “I’m an Alchemist. I use a wand to perform magic.”
“But all witches can utilize herbalism and potion-making, regardless of their type. It’s just that Alchemists tend to be more skilled in those matters than Sirens. Sirens tend to be taught early on to truly hone their powerful mind skills, while Alchemists are taught not only magic mastery with their amplifiers, but more general apothecary knowledge as well. Many Sirens go on to work high up in our government, particular for the MARC,” Aunt Bee continued. She’d probably been waiting to do this the moment Fiona-Leigh was born. “Your mother, in fact, was set to become a top official in the MARC. The only Alchemist in history to become a Shadow Hand.”
I chewed my lip as Fiona-Leigh looked over at me with interest. “What’s a Shadow Hand? That sounds like a mercenary. . . . Oh my god, Mom! You were like a, a Deadpool, weren’t you!? Or like a bounty hunter!”
I couldn’t help but snort, because of course that would be the first thing out of my slightly nerdy daughter’s mouth. “No, nothing like that. A Shadow Hand is sort like of a magical police detective. They are usually pulled from the top of the Danann House of Magical Mastery’s top students. And they’re always Sirens, not Alchemists.”
A bright jewel-colored bird warbled from a nearby tree branch before swooping down onto Fiona-Leigh’s shoulder, earning a huge grin from her. “Why are they always Sirens? Oh, probably because they just do their Jedi mind tricks to follow the clues, right?”
“Jedi . . . Mind tricks?” Aunt Bee repeated.
I shrugged. “I guess you could say that’s part of it. Alchemists and Sirens are just trained differently. Many think that Sirens are just better at magical law enforcement.”
“Pfft, hardly. They’re just taught to think that way,” Aunt Bee said.
Fiona-Leigh was quiet for a moment, even though she took off down the path again. We’d reached the edge of the tree line finally, and there, only a few hundred yards from where we were, was a large hedge parallel to the edge of the forest.
“I bet if I had to choose, I’d choose to be Alchemist. If Sirens don’t get taught everything Alchemists are taught, then they’re not as prepared anyway.” Fiona-Leigh said, following my gaze until she noticed the hedge too. “What’s that?”
“That, my dear, is our destination. Brady Manor,” Aunt Bee answered.
I took a step, and then another one, and then my feet seemed to move on their own accord. Making sure that Fiona-Leigh was keeping up, I practically flew across the expanse of green between us and the tall hedge ahead. When I got to the small wooden door, I bounced on the balls of my feet, eager for Aunt Bee to get there.
“Ah yes, I think we’ve arrived,” Aunt Bee said before the door hidden away in the thick hedge swung wide open. It didn’t take another word for me to go inside.
I took in the perfectly kept lawns and aging stone courtyard, the moss covering the steps and the ivy that grew halfway up the sanded white stone of the manor house. It did more than just tug at my heartstrings. It yanked at them and knotted them until my heart was tangled up in nerves.
Brady Manor, home sweet home.
8
“Whoa.”
Fiona-Leigh wasn’t kidding. Even though I’d grown up here, Brady Manor was a sight to behold. The large windows looked welcoming, and I could’ve sworn I saw the curtains move in one of the upper windows. Someone knew we were here.
“Come along,” Aunt Bee ushered Fiona-Leigh in front of us, hurrying her up the stone steps. “Now that we’ve set foot here, they’ll know we’ve arrived.”
“Who’s they?” Fiona-Leigh countered.
“My Uncle Gardner and my Aunt Ginevra,” I replied, wiping my sweaty palms on my jeans. The thought of seeing him again was just start to catch up to me.
“So this is their house? Holy crap, they must be raking in the leprechaun gold here.”
I snorted. “Leprechaun gold?”
Fiona-Leigh looked over her shoulder at me, and the crooked grin of hers immediately made me relax. If she could deal with being thrown into a brand-new world she never even knew existed, then I sure as heck could chill out about seeing Uncle Gardner. Or at least try to, anyway.
“Our family is very old. This manor house was built by Oisín’s great-grandnephew, Harrison Brady. We all live in it until we have our own families, and even then, some still stay here for the convenience. I moved out years ago, but my brothers both lived here with their families. Even my niece, Erie, who never had children, still lives here,” Aunt Bee said, smoothing out the front of her dress as we approached the heavy wooden doors.
“Erie’s here?” I asked, frowning. “I figured she and her husband would’ve moved out to live closer to the Menagerie.”
Before she had a chance to reply, the doors swung open to let us inside the manor house.
I threw my shoulders back, refusing to let my nerves get the best of me, imagining what Uncle Gardner would say if he knew just how nervous I was. Once we were inside, the doors shut loudly behind us, spooking both me and Fiona-Leigh. It looked like I was going to have to get used to magic almost as much as she was.
“Gardner! I have a surprise for you, dear!” Aunt Bee called out, pulling her shawl from around her shoulders. “Come out of that dusty old study of yours!”
I surveyed the large room, not at all surprised to see that nothing had changed since the last time I’d set foot inside. The ornate antiques and well-kept tapestries of different colors and scenes were all in the same spots on the walls even. The cherry wood piano my father loved to play for us at night was still in the same spot, underneath a massive portrait of the Brady family tree.
Light footsteps that were too quiet to be made by my uncle’s heavy boots made their way into the main foyer area, and my cousin Erie stood in front of me, her mouth hanging wide open. “Gwen?”
The years were erased in an instant. We collided, Erie squealing in my ear as she hugged me as tightly as she could. “Oh my god, I can’t believe you’re here!”
I pulled back, grinning. “Well, I’m here! I’ve missed you so much, girl.” I hugged her again, not wanting to let go. When she stood back, I shook my head at how ridiculously weepy I felt all of a sudden. “You’re a sight for sore eyes.”
Erie rifled her hand through her short blonde hair, just like she always did when she was on edge as a kid, and laughed. “Me? Hardly. But you! I thought I’d never see you again. And is this . . .” Erie turned and her gaze fell on Fiona-Leigh, her expression softening to one of amazement. “Fiona-Leigh,” she said softly.
The day I’d picked her name, Erie was the first person to feel her kick. “The one and only.”
Fiona-Leigh being the ever-observant one, took a couple of steps forward, allowing herself to be swept up into Erie’s eager embrace. “Hi, um, Erie. You’re my mom’s cousin, right?”
“You’re not wrong. And that would make me your cousin, as well,” she beamed at her. “Which means free passes to the Menagerie whenever you want!”
Fiona-Leigh frowned. “The Menagerie?”
“It’s wher
e I work. Your mother used to hate helping me out back when I used to volunteer there during Outer Sanctum. She always said it stank to high dragon clouds! I guess it does, but when you have a whole bunch of magical beasts under your wing, it’s hard to keep it smelling like lilac, you know? Speaking of . . . Gwen, what did you do to your—”
I tugged on Fiona-Leigh’s arm, realizing that we weren’t alone in the room anymore. “We’ll tell you about the Menagerie later. Come on.”
Aunt Ginevra stood at the foot of the wide staircase that lead to the upper west wing of the manor, looking as if she’d seen a ghost. “Gwendolyn? Is it really you?”
My shoulders slumped. I’d hated leaving Aunt Ginevra because she was so soft-spoken, so sweet, and so utterly understanding about my situation that I nearly begged her to come with me. If there were ever a person you’d want to lean on, it was she. I swallowed hard. “Hi.”
I met her halfway across the floor and hugged her close, relishing how good it felt. First Aunt Bee, and now her. It was almost as if I had my mom back for a split-second.
She looked away while she dabbed at the corners of her grass-green eyes, smiling. “I’m so glad you could make it.”
Aunt Bee looked on, and judging by the clunk-clunk-clunk coming across the vast stone floor, she was watching Uncle Gardner’s reaction behind us.
I sucked in a breath and looked over my aunt’s thin shoulder, my heart racing. Sure enough, my uncle stood there in the same old MARC regalia, except with a few more badges and a shiny, sparkling Shadow Hands emblem over his left breast pocket. So he’d been made the Shadow Hand Commander, after all.
I took in the shiny black boots, the well-groomed facial hair threaded through with a little more white, and the same-old polished yew cane he was carrying. It was like I’d never left, the way he stared me down with his harsh expression. Uncle Gardner always had a knack for intimidating other people, and I couldn’t help but hope for the day that I wouldn’t be one of them.
Even his presence was heavy. The closer his sure and steady footsteps brought him to me, the more I wished I hadn’t come in the first place.
“I suppose Bedelia has informed you of Tristan’s disappearance?”
Behind me, I felt Fiona-Leigh’s hand snake around my arm. I cleared my throat. Of course he’d get right to it without the usual pleasantries or much else. “Yes.”
He gave a stiff nod. “I see. Perhaps if Tristan had run off a long time ago, we would’ve been graced with your presence earlier.”
Fiona-Leigh’s fingers dug into my skin.
“Maybe. But wasn’t it you who always said there’s no reason to dwell in the past?”
The space between us felt miles wider than the dozen or so feet it truly was. “At least some of what I taught you sunk in. But if you’re truly wanting to help, it’ll need to be more than just some. My sister has come to get you because she feels that Tristan will be willing to come out of hiding if he sees you, however we cannot be certain. You may need to rely on your skills you learned in your training.”
Aunt Bedelia huffed, striding over to her brother. “Oh for Dragon’s sake, Gard! Can’t you cut your niece some slack, for once? Isn’t enough that Gwendolyn showed up, much less with her daughter? Or have you forgotten she has one?”
Uncle Gardner barely flinched. “Believe me, Bedelia, I haven’t forgotten.” His eyes lingered over Fiona-Leigh, before sliding back over to me. “Forgive me. It has been a rather long day already. I will see you all at dinner.”
And with that, he retreated back into the Hall, and who knows where to from there.
I sighed. “That went well. He almost dared to breathe in the same space that I do. Progress, I guess.”
Aunt Ginevra leaned her head against my shoulder. “He’ll come around, lass. I promise you, he will.”
“She means he’ll have his head unstuck from his rear end at some point, of course,” Aunt Bee added with a smirk. “How about we get settled in upstairs and freshen up before dinner? It was quite a trek through the woods, mind you! I haven’t had to do that much walking since Nathaniel and I got stuck in Arcadia. Do you remember that, Ginevra? I believe it was when Nathaniel first started working at the Apothecarium.”
The two of them both giggled, but I followed the wide-set stairs all the way up to the top, wondering if my old room was just how I left it. Part of me wished that it was, but I knew it was just foolish thinking. They had probably turned it into a room for one of Aunt Ginevra’s many hobbies.
Pulling Fiona-Leigh along, I decided to investigate, myself. “We might as well do what she says. There’s washrooms upstairs, and I’ll show you how to work everything. You’re probably going to need a little help here and there, since most of it’s done by magic.”
Fiona-Leigh groaned. “Of course it is. Oh, I almost forgot! They don’t happen to have any like . . . little people working for them do they? Like fairies, or trolls, or leprechauns, or whatever you want to call them? Because that would be so cool. I know I’m not really supposed to say anything to Marina, but maybe I could pretend it was just a big dream. I don’t know. Does that sound dumb?”
I shook my head as we reached the top of the steps. “No, honey. That doesn’t sound dumb. I don’t see any problem with pretending all of it was a dream. At least it’ll be a vivid one. And to answer your question —” I pulled open the door to the nearest washroom, “no, they don’t have any house staff. At least not anymore. And fairies? They would never work for us, not in a million years. They’re the oldest magical creatures here in Danann, actually. They typically get witches to work for them.”
I closed my eyes and smiled as my hand naturally found the handle of the wand in my pocket, and with a quick flick the lighting in the washroom turned on, as well as the water in the sink, and the toilet paper went flying all over the room until it was nothing but a heaping pile on the floor. Fiona-Leigh giggled.
I winced and flourished my wand a little less heavy-handedly this time. “Okay, so maybe I’m a bit rusty.”
9
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 to, 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 r
ed 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.”
