Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Legends

by Lydia Sherrer

  “Oh, Sebastian. I thought I’d never see you again.” The woman’s voice wavered as if holding back tears.

  Lily stared at the two in surprise, completely taken aback by the unexpected warmth of their welcome. When she finally glanced around again, she saw an older gentleman in an impeccable tweed suit of brown and grey standing in the doorway. He looked to be about Madam Barrington’s age—that is, in his sixties or seventies, which for a wizard meant he could be over a hundred. He had steel-grey hair and eyes of the deepest brown, with pale skin covered in fine wrinkles and a very long nose in a narrow face, ending in a firm and clean-shaven jaw. With one hand in his pocket and the other leaning on a dark wood cane capped in silver, he watched with an inscrutable expression as the woman embraced Sebastian. Then he turned his piercing gaze on Lily, eyeing her up and down in a thorough but not impolite way.

  He looked, in every way, a most proper English gentleman, and she could barely even tell he was a powerful wizard. Unlike her father—who radiated power with unconcerned arrogance—this man kept his presence carefully masked, much like her mentor. She assumed he was powerful, based on his reputation. But he revealed nothing, giving no advantage to the observer. He made no move to come into the room, seeming content to wait and watch until Sebastian’s grandmother got herself under control, which she did without much delay.

  Lily tore her eyes away from the man she assumed was George Dee as the woman finally released Sebastian and drew him over to sit with her on one of the chaise lounges. “I can’t believe you’re here. When Thomas asked us to keep our distance, of course we wanted to respect his wishes. He was your father, after all. But it has been so upsetting. And then they passed so suddenly and my Stephen disappeared, and Ethel was named guardian. I decided to come back to England to live with Father rather than stay in America, alone. Please, don’t be angry with me.”

  Sebastian, looking rather shell-shocked, mutely shook his head as if to assure her he wasn’t upset. But she barely seemed to notice, barreling on past the sad memories to more cheerful conversation. “Well, well, enough about me. How are you, dear? How is Frederick? Are you keeping busy? Goodness, look how tall and handsome you’ve grown!”

  “Calm down, Grandmother, I wasn’t that short the last time you saw me,” Sebastian said. He still looked surprised, but one side of his mouth quirked upward in a fond smile.

  “It seems that our guests will be staying for tea,” came a dry voice from the door in an accent so British that Lily felt uncouth simply listening to it. Every gaze in the room turned to the older man.

  “Oh, do excuse me,” Sebastian’s grandmother laughed. It was a pure sound, filled with joy and none of the hauteur Lily remembered from her own grandmother, Ursula. “Father, this is Sebastian, Thomas and Alison’s youngest. I’m sure Mother showed you pictures?”

  George nodded, face still unreadable.

  “Sebastian, this is your great-grandfather, George Dee,” she added formally, confirming Lily’s assumption, though it was decidedly odd to realize that this woman looked older than her own father. Lily also noticed that her accent was much less pronounced, possibly dulled from her time in America. “And who is your friend you’ve brought with you?”

  “Oh! Yeah, right, um…this is Lily Singer,” Sebastian offered, looking awkward.

  When he said no more, Lily’s manners kicked in, taking over where her brain failed. She rose and stepped forward to shake the old woman’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am. I’m Madam Barrington’s student and a friend of Sebastian’s.”

  “Oh? One of Ethel’s students? It’s a pleasure to meet you, I’m sure. I’m Elizabeth Blackwell. Sebastian’s father, Thomas, was my son.”

  “I’m glad I could finally meet you, Mrs. Blackwell. I never got to meet Sebastian’s parents, or any of his family, really, besides Madam Barrington.”

  “Yes,” Elizabeth said, sadness creeping into her voice. “Sebastian’s parents—well, the whole Blackwell side of the family, really—had some very…unique opinions about magic. Over the years they sought to have as little to do with the magic users in the family as possible.”

  Lily raised her eyebrows in question, not wanting to speculate out loud for fear of being impolite.

  Elizabeth laughed again. “Oh, no, not me. Stephen Blackwell wouldn’t have married me if I were a wizard. But my father, you know…well, perhaps you don’t,” she finished, glancing up at George who still stood in the doorway, leaning on his cane. “Oh, do come sit down, Father, and speak to your great-grandson.” She turned back to Lily and Sebastian. “I’ll go arrange for some refreshments. It’s close to supper, but I’m sure you’re thirsty from your journey.”

  The woman rose and swept out of the room as George moved inside of it to clear a path. He didn’t limp as he approached and chose a chair near the mantlepiece, so Lily assumed the cane was for show, unless…yes, there it was. Now that she was looking, she could sense the dimmu runes inlaid into the silver handle that crowned the smooth wood. At the very least, that cane was a potent power anchor, similar to her amulet. Who knew what other enchantments it might possess?

  After the older man sat, crossing his legs and laying his cane across his lap, there was a long and awkward silence. Sebastian’s charm seemed to have abandoned him in the face of his austere relative, and Lily was hesitant to butt into what felt like a family affair.

  “So, you are the witch.” George stared at Sebastian, his precise, deliberate voice slicing through the silence like a knife. As with his face, his words held no hint of emotion. He didn’t ask, accuse, or berate. He simply stated.

  Sebastian bristled at his words anyway, and Lily couldn’t blame him. At the same time, however, she couldn’t afford to let his pride jeopardize their mission, so she jumped in before he had a chance to say something insulting. “Yes, Mr. Dee, and a very good friend and reliable ally as well. He knows his craft well and has saved both my life and Madam Barrington’s, on multiple occasions.”

  At her words, George turned his gaze upon her, and, though his expression didn’t change, she could tell he disapproved, as if she were a schoolgirl who had spoken out of turn. Her courage fled and she shrank back in her chair. After a few seconds more, George returned his gaze to his great-grandson.

  “Ethel has spoken of you, and your…profession. Had she not, and were you any other man, I would have cursed you the moment I felt you enter my house.”

  Lily’s blood ran cold. The matter-of-fact way in which George spoke completely belied his words. She couldn’t get any sort of read off him—not that she was good at reading people, but still, based on his words, he should be showing some sort of emotion. Anger, contempt, something. She wanted to stand up for her friend but didn’t dare say a word. She felt like a complete coward.

  “If you’re so ashamed to have a witch in the family, then why let us in at all?” Sebastian’s voice was low and tight, almost as tight as his fists as they clenched the arms of his chair.

  “Who spoke of shame?” The blunt question caught Sebastian off guard and he hesitated, brow furrowed.

  “But, you said…”

  George waited, silent, one eyebrow arched in such a Madam Barrington–like manner that Lily had to suppress a nervous giggle.

  “You forget, Mr. Blackwell, or else have never bothered to discover, that the Dee legacy includes many witches. Most of them died ignoble deaths. Those who survived did so because they knew where to draw the line. Witchcraft on its most fundamental level is the use of borrowed power, and nothing in the world of magic is free, is it, Mr. Blackwell? Power has a price.” George gave Sebastian a knowing look, as if he spoke from experience, rather than theory.

  “That it does, sir,” Sebastian agreed, anger replaced by wariness.

  “And yet power, in and of itself, is not evil. I cannot judge you for having power, only for how you obtained it. And what you choose to do with it.”

  Sebastian was silent, gaze locked with his great-grandfather�
��s. Finally, the older man spoke again. “I allowed you into my house because I can see you have approached the line…and withdrawn. The price you pay is steep, perhaps foolish. But your friend and your estimable aunt are witness to its good use.”

  Lily let out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, and George’s gaze swung back to her. “You, on the other hand, Miss Singer, are an entirely different matter.”

  “Me?” Lily almost squeaked, fighting a sudden nervousness. It was unnerving how like Madam Barrington this man was. He could make you feel guilty just by looking at you.

  “Your price has yet to be paid, I think.”

  Lily looked away, thinking of the price she had already paid in terms of certain family members and the trouble they’d dragged her into. How much worse could it get?

  “Though I must say,” George continued, “with such an enterprising cat, I suspect you consider him to be price enough.” He pointed his cane to the side where Sir Kipling was in the process of pawing at a book on the bottom shelf of a massive bookcase. Caught in the act, her cat froze for several seconds, then reverted to what all cats did when embarrassed: grooming.

  “Kip! Get away from there,” Lily hissed at him, face flushing. To George, she apologized. “I’m sorry, he does like to nose about.”

  “No apology needed. I see he was simply interested in my seventeenth-century bestiary. Quite a read, it is, too.”

  “What?” Lily stared between her innocence-exuding cat and the confusing wizard before her. “But what good would a book do him?”

  “Why, to read, I would imagine.”

  “But—he—Kip can’t read.”

  “Can he not?” George’s eyebrows lifted. “While cats do have odd habits, I do not believe staring at book spines is one of them. Logically, then, the past five minutes he has spent riveted to my bookshelf has been in an effort to read my book titles.”

  Lily slowly turned her gaze back to her cat, who was now practicing his trademark enigmatic stare.

  “Kip,” she said in a threatening voice.

  “Yes?” The affected innocence was so thick in the air Lily could have spread it on a scone and eaten it with tea.

  She glared at him. “Is it true?”

  “What?”

  “That you can read.”

  “Well, you work at a library. What else did you expect me to do? Take up underwater basket weaving?”

  Lily’s eyes widened in sudden realization. “It was you. You were the one leaving books lying around everywhere!”

  “I feel obligated to point out that, as a creature without opposable thumbs, books are much easier to take off the shelf than to put back on. And anyway, what are librarians for if not to clean up the library?”

  If they had been alone, or even with just Sebastian, Lily would have scolded her cat to within an inch of his life. Fortunately for him, they were not alone. Aware of George Dee’s gaze upon her, Lily leaned back, smoothing a hand over her skirt and giving Sir Kipling a sideways glare that promised punishment in no uncertain terms should he harm the tiniest molecule of any book.

  “As I said, quite a handful in more ways than one. When it comes time for your price to be paid, what will his part be, I wonder…” The old man trailed off, not looking at Sir Kipling but rather past him, lost in thought.

  Lily kept quiet, clueless as to what George was talking about. What did he see in her? Did it have anything to do with that strange entity with the voice like bells? It had given her power in the form of her ward bracelet, and she supposed her cat was a form of power as well, though he was turning out to be a positive double-edged sword.

  “Tell me, what has happened to my sister-in-law?” George asked abruptly, eyes back on Sir Kipling, who had decided not to tempt fate by pulling a book off the shelf.

  “What? How did you know?” Lily said, astonished.

  The wizard’s gaze turned to her once more. “No explanation was sent ahead of your arrival, and she is not here herself. Therefore, something has befallen her.”

  Lily had just opened her mouth to reply when Elizabeth came bustling back in, followed by a maid carrying a laden tea tray. As they fussed and arranged the service, Lily wondered why she hadn’t yet seen any constructs. The only experience she had with old wizard blood was her father’s family. But they were an anomaly. They’d left England—for business reasons, John Faust had claimed, but she was beginning to suspect that wasn’t the whole story—and started a new life in America. Was it normal for wizard families to have constructs? Perhaps George Dee preferred to interact with real people as opposed to machines.

  Once the maid exited, Elizabeth poured them all tea—Earl Grey, of course, the tea of choice for most people in England—and they sat back with a saucer and biscuit apiece. Lily noticed that Elizabeth and Sebastian were the only ones to take sugar. She had a bit of cream herself, while George drank his plain.

  They sipped in silence for a few moments, and Lily wondered why George didn’t restart the conversation. Did he not want to talk about it in front of Elizabeth? She exchanged a meaningful glance with Sebastian, warning him to wait and let their hosts initiate the discussion.

  Soon enough, Elizabeth started in on her grandson, eager to hear about his life, his brother, and Madam Barrington. He answered everything with extreme circumspection, making no mention of their recent encounters with John Faust or the reason for their trip. In her eagerness for news, his grandmother didn’t seem to notice.

  After a while she turned to Lily, catching her in mid-bite of another biscuit. “And you, dear, what about you? Who were your parents? I know most of the family lines in your area from when Stephen and I lived in America.”

  Lily swallowed hastily, taking a sip of tea to wash down the biscuit. Unfortunately, in her haste she managed to inhale some liquid and broke out in a coughing fit. By the time she had herself back under control she was blushing furiously and kept her eyes on the floor as she replied. “Well, my mother is a Silvester and my father is a LeFay.”

  The sudden silence in the room made her look up, and she saw with growing apprehension that both her hosts were looking at her with varying degrees of disgust. Elizabeth’s was the most pronounced. Her brow was drawn in and there was both pain and anger in her eyes. George only showed a tightening of his lips, though he gripped his cane very tightly with his free hand. She was so astonished at their reaction that she was quite speechless, belatedly remembering Madam Barrington’s words: George Dee was no friend of the LeFays.

  It was Sebastian who swooped in and saved her, his words halting Elizabeth who had started to rise from her chair. “Not to be indelicate, but now seems the right moment to point out that Lily was abused by her father, John Faust LeFay, as a child. Her mother took her and hid, eventually remarrying and sending Lily to study under Madam Barrington. Lily only found out a few weeks ago who her biological father was, and we’re actually here to ask for your help in, well, dealing with him, so to speak.”

  Elizabeth slowly sank back into her chair, face relaxing into confusion, then pity, though her nostrils still flared whenever Sebastian mentioned the LeFay name. “You poor thing. Of course we’d be happy to help. Anything to hurt the LeFays.”

  “Now, Eliza, do—“

  “Don’t ‘now Eliza’ me, Father,” she snapped at George. “You know what they did to my husband’s family. What they probably did to—to Stephen.”

  “There is no proof,” George said, sternly. “And in any event, it was the Blackwoods, not the LeFays, who were to blame.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “What did my family do?”

  Sebastian and Lily both spoke, clamoring with questions, but George raised his hand in a commanding gesture.

  “The past is past, and I would not have us become distracted from the reason you came. Eliza, dear, would you go and make sure the staff know we will be having guests for supper? I need to speak to Mr. Blackwell and Miss Singer. Privately.” His tone was pleasa
nt, yet brooked no refusal. Elizabeth pursed her lips in displeasure, but rose, giving Sebastian a quick kiss on the cheek before leaving, closing the door behind her.

  Glancing at Sebastian, Lily’s heart sank. Elizabeth might have bowed to her father’s authority, but it didn’t look like Sebastian had any intention of doing the same.

  “I want to know what happened to my family,” Sebastian said, staring his great-grandfather down. “What really happened.”

  George was silent for a long time, but Sebastian held, perfectly capable of infinite stubbornness. Lily thought it more likely that George was choosing what to say, rather than trying to wait Sebastian out. He struck her as a careful and deliberate person.

  When George finally spoke, his words were quiet, almost weary. “When your parents died, I received a letter that was sent as part of the settling of their will. They made only two requests. First, that I help you, should you ever come to me for aid. Second, that I not pass on the grievances of the past so that you and your brother could live free from the bitterness that had destroyed…many things. I intend to keep both promises. So, tell me, what has John Faust done to my sister-in-law?”

  Sebastian, one hand gripping something in his pocket, seemed to deflate ever so slightly, as if in defeat. Yet he still glared at his great-grandfather.

  Ignoring Sebastian’s murderous look, Lily leaned forward and told George Dee everything, starting at the very beginning and answering numerous questions along the way. Sebastian eventually got over his bad mood and chipped in, adding what he knew, though considerably less freely than Lily.

  It took more than an hour before George was satisfied and leaned back, looking thoughtful as he tapped the crown of his cane in the palm of one hand. “Very interesting. Ethel was right to send you to her contacts in Oxford. I have no particular knowledge of that era of British history, nor of Morgan herself. Historically, my family has been more interested in Merlin’s work than Morgan’s. I am afraid there is little I can do to help. I am not as young as I once was and doubt I would be useful as a companion on your quest…” He lapsed into silence, not looking at either of them. Sebastian opened his mouth, but Lily shot him a glare and he closed it again. They waited.