“Then that is where we will go.”
I lead him into the cargo hold, where I find the captain and crew already tied up. A half-dozen Dutch soldiers stand guard. I feign surprise and turn on the Dutchman. “What is going on here? Why are these men tied up?”
“We are going to negotiate a new price now.”
“What? Absolutely not! You let them go right away or—”
The Dutchman slaps me across the face. I double over and begin to cry as if he’s really done some damage. In reality, his puny slap didn’t hurt as much as when Mama used to hit my wrist with her wooden spoon. The Dutchman shouts, “Quiet, you French whore!”
Those are the last words he ever says. I turn on him, using my open palm to smash him back against the hold. Before he can try to recover, I seize him around the shoulders and snap his scrawny neck like a twig. With my back turned to the Dutch soldiers, I utter a Turn Out the Lights spell to instantly snuff out the candles in the hold.
From my jacket I produce my nightcrystal lenses. With these I’m able to see the Dutch, who at the moment are groping around in a vain attempt to relight the candles. While they’re still trying to find a light, I grab the nearest one and use the same Ashes to Ashes spell as on the bogeyman in Venice. The man turns to a pile of ashes on the floor and I leap at the next one.
I leave one of the Dutch soldiers alive. With a snap of my fingers, a candle lights, so he can see my face. I have the nightcrystal lenses tucked back into my pocket to make sure he can see my eyes. “Go back to your superiors and tell them that we will complete our deal at the agreed upon price.”
The captain thanks me for rescuing him and the crew and then says in Portuguese, “Why are you selling them the guns? They are traitorous swine!”
“There are people who still need these weapons. Get the crates onto the deck. I want to be out of here as soon as we can.”
I’m in my cabin, lying on the narrow bed and staring up at the ceiling when the captain knocks on my door. “Miss Joubert, there’s someone here to speak with you.”
“Good.” I’m thinking the Dutch were pretty quick to send someone over when I open the door and see it isn’t a Dutchman. It’s Aggie.
She looks older than me for the first time in a hundred seventy years, her face lined and dull hair turning gray. The grim expression she wears only adds years to her face. “What’s wrong?” I ask her.
“It’s Mama,” she says. “She’s sick.”
Chapter 13
Witches can get sick. While our powers allow us to live for a long time, we’re not immortal. We can get the same colds and fevers as mortals. The difference is that we have potions that allow us to cure these. The rare times I ever felt sick, I only had to vanish home and get a potion from Aggie and a few minutes later would feel perfectly healthy again.
That’s what makes it so difficult when I go upstairs to find Mama lying in bed, looking almost like a corpse. She’s aged at least twenty years since the last time I saw her, her hair white and wrinkled skin sagging as if it were made of wax that’s starting to melt. That skin is also terribly pale and clammy. Despite that she has two heavy quilts on top of her, she’s still shivering.
I reach beneath the quilts to find Mama’s hand, which is more like a bony claw. “Mama?” I say, my voice like that of a small child again. “Can you hear me?”
She turns her head in my direction. When she opens her eyes, they’re rheumy and unfocused. “Sylvia?”
“It’s me, Mama. Agnes said you’re sick.”
“I’m dying,” she whispers.
This bluntness prompts me to start crying. “Dying? You can’t—”
“Don’t cry, dear. You’re too old for that.”
I smile at this and wait for Mama to tell me to sit up straight like a proper lady, but her eyes close. For a horrible moment I worry that she’s dead, but then I hear breath whistling from between her lips. She’s gone back to sleep.
Despite what Mama said, Aggie is still crying. She needs little encouragement to throw herself against me for a hug. “I don’t know what’s wrong,” she sobs into my shoulder. “I’ve tried everything, but it doesn’t seem to help.”
“There has to be something. In the archives—”
“I’ve gone to the archives! We both have.”
She takes me down to the kitchen, where she’s stationed a cauldron big enough for both of us to bathe in. At the moment it’s filled with a dark purple liquid that bubbles dangerously. My nose wrinkles at a smell like an animal that’s died and lain out in the sun for two weeks. Around this are a variety of weeds, seeds, animal parts, and crystals. I don’t know what all of these are, but Aggie does. She grabs a rabbit’s foot and tosses it into the cauldron. Then with a wooden spoon that looks more like a rowboat oar, she stirs the concoction boiling in the cauldron.
“I’ve tried everything I can think of: wormsbud, tassleroot, even elfsfoot. None of it does anything.”
“How long has she been like this?”
“About two weeks.”
“Two weeks? And you just now told me?”
Aggie shrugs while she continues to stir the potion. “Mama didn’t want to bother you. When she couldn’t get out of bed, we decided to go find you, but that took some time. You’re not an easy person to find.”
“I’m sure Glenda knew where I was.”
Aggie stops with her stirring to glare at me. “You’re still angry with her about Morgana?”
“Aren’t you?”
“I was at first, but it had to be done.”
“So you’re taking her side?”
“I don’t want to take anyone’s side.” She picks up a ladle to dip into the cauldron. “I just want Mama to get better.”
“What exactly is wrong with her?”
“Her magic is fading. That’s why she looks so old.”
“Fading?”
“She’s losing it. She’s becoming mortal.”
“You tried a Restoration potion?”
“Of course. I’m not stupid. She’s not responding to any of my potions, not even the Energy Boost one. It’s the same thing when Sophie tried a spell on her.” Aggie fills a rust-colored vial with the purple liquid and then caps it. With a tired sigh she sits on a stool. “It’s like she’s become resistant to magic.”
“What about mortal medicine? Have you had a doctor look at her?”
“All they can do is treat the symptoms.” Aggie’s face puckers with distaste. “They wanted to put leeches on her. As though draining her blood was going to make her stronger.”
“So what’s that?”
Aggie looks down at the vial she’s just filled. She smiles tiredly. “I call it the Kitchen Sink potion. It’s a mix of six different potions. Maybe it will do something.”
“Probably kill her.”
“That’s not funny.”
“It wasn’t supposed to be.”
It’s a good thing I have quick reflexes as I’m able to catch Aggie’s potion when she hurls the vial at me. “What do you want me to do? Sit by her bed and do nothing while she dies? She’s our mother.”
She breaks down into sobs again, resting her head against the counter. I go over to give her another hug. From how worn out she looks and how desperate she sounds, it’s clear Aggie has done everything she can to help Mama while I’ve been gone, sitting around on a boat and in a café in Amsterdam, talking about the weather. “I’m sorry,” I tell her.
We’re still like that when there’s a flash of light. I look up to see Glenda standing in the kitchen doorway. “Hello, girls,” she says. “Any luck so far?”
“Not yet,” Aggie says, straightening up to escape my hug. “I was about to try another potion. Did you have any luck in consulting the others?”
“I’m afraid not. Is Sophie in the library?”
“Yes.”
“Good. I need to speak with her.” Glenda turns to me and flashes a crooked yellow smile. “And welcome back, Sylvia.”
***
/>
The door to the library is locked while Glenda and Sophie talk. I know better than to try eavesdropping on them. Instead I follow Aggie up to Mama’s bedroom. It’s very unlikely that Aggie’s latest potion will do anything; if they didn’t work individually then they probably wouldn’t work combined.
Aggie stops in front of Mama’s door, but doesn’t open it right away. She turns to me and says softly, “I tried the Inner Child potion on her.”
“The one you used on Morgana?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I had already tried everything else. I thought even if she was a child, she would at least still be alive. Isn’t that what matters?”
“I don’t know.”
“It was just a last resort. That’s all.”
I put my hand on her shoulder and nod. “I understand,” I lie. Given the choice, I’m not sure I’d rather Mama die than revert back to a baby for us to raise.
Aggie opens the door and we slip into the room. Mama is still sleeping and still shivering and sweating at the same time. It’s probably an illusion, but the wrinkles on her face look deeper than last time. Aggie reads my mind and says, “Sophie says Mama’s aging rapidly. She thinks about an hour for every one minute of normal time.”
Aggie gives Mama a gentle shake, whispering, “Mama, it’s Agnes and Sylvia. We’re here to give you some medicine.”
“No medicine,” Mama whispers.
“You have to try it, Mama. Please?”
Mama nods her head slightly. She tries to sit up, but she doesn’t have the strength. I put an arm around her shoulders and help her up. She can at least open her mouth, allowing Aggie to pour the vial’s contents down her throat. With another nod she falls asleep again and I arrange her into a sleeping position.
There’s nothing more to do but sit beside the bed and wait for any sign of the potion working. Aggie and I stare at Mama’s face, searching for anything to give us hope. Five minutes tick by in silence before something happens: Mama begins coughing. At first it’s a mild cough. Soon it deepens, until her entire body shudders violently. I help her back into a sitting position and pat her on the back. She continues coughing, her face turning purple.
I turn to Aggie, who is staring wide-eyed at Mama. “Get her some water!” I shout.
Aggie reaches for the pitcher beside the bed, pouring a cup of water. She puts this to Mama’s lips. Most of the water winds up on the front of Mama’s nightgown, but some of it manages to get into her mouth. This seems to help her, the coughing becoming less violent and the purple color fading from her face.
She sags against my arms and I set her back down on the mattress. Once Mama is resting somewhat comfortably again, Aggie bolts for the door. “Agnes!” I call after her.
I find her in her bedroom, lying on her bed as she used to do as a teenager when Mama scolded her for consorting with mortals. I sit down beside her, touching her hair. “It’s not your fault,” I say. “You did your best.”
“I almost killed her!”
“But you didn’t. That’s what matters.”
Aggie looks up at me, her eyes still dripping tears. “I hate this. I hate myself.”
“Agnes—”
“You and Sophie are so calm and mature and look at me. I’m in here crying like a little kid.” She turns away to address the wall. “I’m the oldest. I’m supposed to be the responsible one. I’m supposed to look after you two if something happens to Mama.”
I can’t help but snort at this. “I think we’re a little old for that.” I begin smoothing Aggie’s hair out and then start braiding it like when we were kids. It’s soothing to focus on something so simple as weaving Aggie’s tresses. My hands are a little out of practice since I’ve only had my hair to work with in the last few years, but it all comes back to me.
This seems to calm Aggie down as well. Her body goes limp, with only the occasional sniffle. I tilt my head to one side to see that she’s fallen asleep. As I continue to work, I think of when I was a toddler, back when we moved into this house. I was so bored then, with nothing to do, feeling like a helpless baby. Then Aggie gave me my first big girl job of braiding her hair and I felt so proud.
I finish with the braid and then lean down to kiss Aggie’s cheek. I whisper into her ear, “You’re a great big sister.”
I hear someone clear her throat and turn to see Sophie in the doorway. Her voice is perfectly neutral as she says, “I’ve come to say goodbye.”
***
With Aggie asleep, Sophie and I go into my room to talk. “You’re leaving?” I ask her.
“Yes. To America.”
I’ve heard stories of America, most describing it as a vast wilderness populated by wild animals and equally wild tribes of natives. It’s not the kind of place I would imagine Sophie ever wanting to visit. “Why are you going there?”
“Glenda asked me to.”
“So you and Glenda have patched things up?”
“Not at all.” Sophie lowers her voice and says, “I’m getting close. That’s why she wants me to go. She says it’s to look for a cure for Mother, but really she wants me out of the way.”
“Then why don’t you have someone else go? I could go there—”
“No.” Sophie’s voice drops even further, so I have to lean close in order to hear her. “I’ve been studying some ancient texts. I think what Morgana wanted to find is there.”
“The birthplace of magic?”
“Yes.”
“So you were working with her?”
“No. I showed her some of my notes and she misinterpreted them. She should have waited until I finished my research, but she was impatient—like someone else I know.”
“Thanks.”
Sophie straightens and raises her voice. “Glenda is enchanting a broom for me to fly over to the Massachusetts colony. That’s where I’ll start my search.”
“How long is it going to take?”
“Months, I’m afraid.”
I think of Mama in the next room, her body aging rapidly as her magic fades away. Is she going to have months before she’s nothing more than a corpse? “Isn’t there some other way to help her?”
“There is something radical we could try.”
“What?”
“If we could make a charm against Glenda, we could assassinate her. That might release Mother from the spell.”
“What spell?”
“It’s called a Magic Shell spell. It creates a barrier around someone to resist magic. When you cast it on another witch, it causes her power to fade.”
I think of my trip to the archives and the broken pigeonhole cover down in the vault, the spell and its description missing. “That’s what she took.”
“Who?”
“That idiot Ingrid said someone took a spell from the vault. She didn’t get a name. She just said it was an old lady.”
“That could be anyone.”
“But you think it’s Glenda.”
“Who else would it be?”
“But she and Mama have been friends for centuries.”
“That’s what she says.” Sophie leans closer again. “Think about it, she gets Mother sick and look what happens: I have to stop my research, you have to stop selling weapons to the mortals, and poor Agnes falls all to pieces. With this one spell she’s single-handedly taken four of her rivals out of the game, without having to kill anyone.”
“At least until Mama dies.”
“If she dies.” Sophie pats my hand. “If I find what I’m looking for, it could give us the power we need to get rid of Glenda and her spell. We can free Mother and restore her powers.”
“Are you sure that’s what you want?”
“Of course it is. I love Mother as much as you and Agnes do.”
“Even though she might not be our real mother?”
Sophie shrugs at this. “Family isn’t about shared blood. You and I might not really be sisters, but we’ve been through so much together that we’re clo
ser than many biological siblings, wouldn’t you say?”
“Probably.” I sigh and then turn to the window. “What am I supposed to do while you’re gone?”
“Do what you can to take care of Mother—and Agnes.”
“What about Glenda?”
“Unless you can make a charm, then don’t confront her openly. She’s too powerful for any of us—especially alone.”
“I guess so.”
Glenda waits for us down in the living room. She carries an old broom that looks as if it dates from when we first moved into the house. “It’s all set to go,” she says, handing the broom to Sophie.
Aggie has waked up in time to say goodbye. She hugs Sophie, a fresh batch of tears coming to her face. “Be careful, dear,” she says. “America is a very dangerous place.”
“I know.”
I feel guilty that it’s not me going instead of Sophie. As a specialist in offensive magic, it would be less dangerous for me than for Sophie. But finding a cure requires Sophie’s analytical skills, or so Glenda says. I keep one eye on the head of the coven as I hug Sophie goodbye. The elder witch gives nothing away, remaining stone-faced as I say, “Hurry up and find what you’re looking for. Agnes and I will do what we can on our end.”
“I’ll do my best,” Sophie says. We follow her out to the front steps, where she tosses the broom into the air. It doesn’t come down; instead it hovers in the air, waiting for her to climb on board. This Sophie does daintily, carefully lifting her skirt before she mounts the broom.
Then she pulls back on the handle of the broom and it begins to rise into the air. I watch it—and Sophie—grow smaller in the night sky. Silhouetted against the moon, she turns and waves goodbye to us.
And then she’s gone.
Chapter 14
It takes only a couple of days for Aggie and I to settle on a division of labor. She oversees the running of the house and I take over running the rest of the estate. As for Mama, we take turns watching her slowly decay before our eyes.
Tales of the Scarlet Knight Collection: The Call Page 98
