"My mom sent me a couple of these; it's always a big hit at parties so I thought maybe you could recreate the recipe..." Kin trailed off as though just now realizing onion jam was an odd hostess gift but was treated to a wide, sincere smile that wiped the embarrassment right off his face. "It's really tasty on top of steak, or with those little slices of toasted baguette," he finished, his cheeks finally returning to their normal color.
"That sounds fantastic," Soleil piped up, "Thank you, Kin, that was very thoughtful."
Evian and Vaeta nodded in agreement from behind the kitchen island where they were placing edible flowers on top of individual ramekins. I couldn't tell if it was cheesecake or some kind of custard, but suddenly I couldn't wait for dessert.
Just then, the air between where the faeries and Kin and I stood shimmered, and Flix shivered into view carrying a bottle wrapped in twine. Twinkleberry wine; there was no doubt in my mind, and I could have slapped him. I'm not exactly human and can only handle one glass; any more and I'll wake up with a headache the size of Texas and just enough bits of embarrassing memories to make me swear off the stuff. A single sip was sure to knock Kin on his butt for at least two days, and Flix knew better. "You're a pain in my rear," I whispered into his ear as he reached over to envelop me in a tight hug. "We've got a whole cellar full of that stuff, and you know it."
Flix just laughed, ignored my protests, and took his turn hugging the godmothers. Most of his Fae family felt that any kind of half-breed was an abomination; it was a popular belief amongst his kind that angered me to my very core. Everyone was part something and part something else nowadays. At least, that's the philosophy I had been raised to uphold, and I knew it meant a lot to Flix to be included in a family environment devoid of open hostility. Just one more reason I loved my godmothers unconditionally.
Salem came flying down the stairs at top kitty speed just then, whooshing into his human form as he stepped into the kitchen to complete the guest list. Kin shook his head, and I knew he was wondering how he'd managed to get caught up in this very strange household. The wide grin he shot me over Salem's shoulder went a long way toward easing any worry over how well he had assimilated. Four and a half faeries, a witch, and her familiar is a lot to take all at once. Who am I kidding, one of my godmothers is a lot to take. All four of them in a room is a tsunami.
"Sing for your supper, Mackintosh," Terra ordered Kin while I observed her closely for signs of early inebriation. Finding none, I let a small sigh slip past my lips. Even-tempered and with a mile-wide open mind he might be, but a bout of full-on Faerie hilarity was more of a six-month anniversary thing.
Not only did Kin comply with her wishes by launching into the bawdy song he knew she liked best, but he also pulled me into a little two-step around the kitchen while his voice soared to the accompaniment of a set of reed pipes Vaeta plucked out of the air. For all I knew, they were made of the stuff.
The song ended with a dip and a kiss that left me wanting more. And hooting noises from the peanut gallery.
"The first course is ready." Vaeta chirped, sent a platter sailing on a cushion of air to land gently on the table, and winked at Salem. "Strawberries stuffed with salmon mousse and drizzled with balsamic glaze." My mouth watered; the juxtaposition of perfectly-ripened, slightly firm berry and delicate, tangy whipped fish was so satisfying it could have been described as orgasmic.
"Wine?" Flix offered Kin with a wicked grin. I've never actually seen the effects of too much Twinkleberry wine on a true human, and I didn't want to spend the rest of the night watching my boyfriend frolicking naked through the back yard and jumping at invisible lightning bugs.
"We'll be having the red, thank you very much." I snatched the wineglass back before Flix could pour.
"Party pooper."
"What's in that stuff anyway?" Kin gave the bottle a narrow-eyed glance as though it might turn into a snake and bite him. Not out of the realm of possibility in our house.
"It's Terra's special blend of death by embarrassment--fun while it lasts, but packs a punch and leaves a hangover that lasts for days. If you're planning on working at all this week, I'd pass."
Kin gave Terra raised eyebrow which she returned with a shrug.
"The red it is."
He'd managed the first swallow and a bite of the second course (tender lamb chops in a delicate mustard sauce) when the doorbell rang. I can count on the fingers of one hand the number of times the doorbell has rung on a day that wasn't Beltane. There's a powerful spell on the place to ward off traveling salesmen and even Girl Scouts selling cookies. That last one I lobbied to have lifted because I do love my Samoas, but the faeries refused.
"I'll get it." I rushed to press my eye to the peephole. Mona stood on the porch looking slightly nervous.
"Just a minute," I hollered through the door and returned to the dining room. "Red alert, folks. It's Mona, you remember her from Harry and Lemon's wedding? Get your game faces on and make like normals. Sorry, Salem. And check for anything weird. Hurry"
I left the faeries scrambling to stash food back into the oven rather than leaving it out under a few of Soleil's miniature suns. Pots stopped stirring themselves.
"I'm letting her in now." I went to the door and hoped all four faeries would look like humans before I got back.
The last thing I did was set the Balefire to orange and yellow on my way past the parlor door.
"Mona, won't you come in?" I crossed my fingers behind my back.
"Oh, Lexi, I'm sorry for just showing up like this, but I was worried about you. You took off so fast, and you looked...I don't know, upset. I just had to come by and make sure you were okay." Once she got started, it took Mona some time to run down. She followed me toward the dining room. "It smells incredible in here. Oh, I'm sorry, I'm disturbing your dinner." Her cheery smile took in the whole room.
"Nonsense, I'll get you a plate." Evian rose gracefully to set another place at the table, and I grabbed the bottle of Twinkleberry wine before Flix could offer her some. He waggled his eyebrows at me, and I refrained from thumping him on the back of the head. There are times when his sense of humor runs on the mean side.
"You're going to help her, right?" Mona said somewhere between the second and third course of exquisite food. For a moment, I couldn't think who she meant.
"Oh, your mom? Yes, of course. Don't worry, I've got it under cont..." Vaeta bobbled the platter she was carrying and used a whiff of power to right it. Mona caught the motion out of the corner of her eye, but before she could get a full view, Kin jumped up to take the platter from Vaeta courteously.
"That looks heavy. Let me carry it for you." The man was so getting lucky tonight.
Chapter Ten
"Urrrrgh!" I hollered, thankful that my silencing charm was working nearly as well as Terra's did, and that my grunts and moans of annoyance couldn't be heard throughout the house. Apparently, the charm had no effect on my familiar, because Salem tripped the handle on the parlor side of the fireplace, reverted from his sleek black cat form into his sleek black human one, and was now standing with his arms folded, glaring at me.
When I reached my hand into the Balefire the first time and watched the fireplace rotate to reveal a secret room, I had no idea what to expect within the depths beyond the entrance. A treasure trove of magical paraphernalia had come as a welcome surprise even if I had barely spent any time exploring the plethora of supplies at my disposal.
I hadn't had enough magic to keep the Balefire alive on my own before coming into my full powers, but now it was roaring with bright, licking flames. Every year on Beltane (which happens to be my birthday) all the witches from miles around tromp through my parlor, light their torches, and transmit a bit of the Balefire's power from coven to coven. The women in my family have acted as Keepers of the Flame for centuries, and even though it was my most sacred duty, the revelation that I was also a demigod had thrown me for enough of a loop that I had all but ignored the magical training sessions Salem
kept scheduling for us.
"What exactly were you trying to accomplish?" He raised a sardonic eyebrow beneath a shock of pure white hair, and his eyes--one green and one blue--twinkled with feline mischief.
I must have looked a sight, standing in the middle of the raised pentacle encompassing most of the front room--at least eight or ten feet in diameter--wielding a wand I'd found during my search of the cavernous space beyond the dais.
"I'm trying to transfigure this ceramic garden gnome into a real one." I scrunched my nose in concentration and flicked the wand. It did nothing to focus my power, and the gnome sprouted ceramic butterfly wings. "What am I doing wrong?" I wailed.
"Well, first off, that's not a wand, it's the broken handle of an old cauldron stirrer. Wands aren't effective if you don't properly prepare and cleanse them, anyway. Secondly, you're holding it in the wrong hand. And thirdly, grown witches don't need wands; they're for children who are learning to focus power. This is exactly why I keep hounding you about training. Now tell me what you're really trying to accomplish."
I sighed, "I'm trying to figure out what parts of me are God and what parts of me are witch. I cast a love spell--or more accurately, tried to remove a hate spell yesterday, and the result was...well, not good. I'm actually a little scare of the repercussions." I carefully told Salem all about the poor couple in the park. "There, are you happy now?" I shot him a dirty look.
I give him credit for keeping a straight face. "This little debacle is probably all the backlash you'll get; your intentions were good, and it doesn't sound like it was a terribly powerful spell. No offense. Now, if I tell you everything I do know about demigods, and promise to try to find out more information, will you agree to follow my instructions and get serious about your training?"
"You mean you've been holding out on me?" As if I had any room to talk. I still hadn't told Salem that Sylvana was back in the picture. Given the good fortune he currently enjoyed at the hands of four faerie godmothers who were cooking and baking delectable goodies for a half dozen parties they had agreed to coordinate, it seemed a safe bet that he'd turn into a tattletale and I'd wind up in some kind of magical time out for lying. To faeries, the difference between being five years old and twenty-five is not significant.
Salem leveled my gaze. "Do you promise?" He repeated.
"Yes, yes. I promise."
"Okay." Salem settled onto one of the tufted sofas, curling his legs up underneath himself and resting his chin on top of his folded hands, proving to me once again that he was always a cat, regardless of whether he had arms and legs, or paws and a tail.
"Gods have been consorting with humans for an eternity--that's pretty much common knowledge. So it's not surprising that there are a few of you hybrids walking around out there. Gods typically won't allow a human to see their true nature, so most of their spawn don't even know they're unusual. The God side leaks out in unexpected ways: charisma, power, beauty; they all come naturally to human/God hybrids. Some of the most powerful people in history descended from one deity or another."
"So, you're telling me that these people don't ever have to deal with the supernatural world, but they get to just be beautiful and famous and powerful? And I get--what? All this responsibility? That doesn't seem fair."
"I agree, it doesn't. It seems to me that you've got an edge; your awareness gives you a higher purpose. But you're also a witch, and every witch has strengths and weaknesses. We need to discern what yours are, and that should help us figure out which of your abilities stem from either side of your heritage. For the time being, I wouldn't go casting any more spells on people, or you might overcompensate and find yourself on the whammy end of a karma grenade."
"But Salem, what about Jett and Serena? If they're going to try and screw with my livelihood and my life's work, I've got to do something to stop them. Are you saying I should have just let them tear that couple apart?"
"No. I'm not. But I think you're playing a dangerous game by mixing witchcraft with your divine power to alter the outside world--at least before understanding all the implications. We need to get to work. Then we'll figure out how to proceed. Agreed?"
I grudgingly agreed, because what choice did I have? Salem had a point. I was beginning to learn he always had a point and didn't mind sharing it in the least. If you could call shoving it down my throat sharing.
"And you'll check with your familiar friends about Fate Weavers? See what you can dig up?" I desperately wanted to ask him to find out anything he could about the Bow of Destiny, but since I hadn't told him about Sylvana, I was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He'd want to know how I found out about it, and the answer would open a door I wasn't ready to open. In the end, I kept my mouth shut.
"Yes, I'll do what I can. Now focus."
***
Salem led me around, shouting out instructions and gathering materials, setting them in neat piles on the tables lining the walls of the main room. I'm no mathematical genius, but even I can tell that the proportions of the cavern behind the fireplace don't remotely match the available space. The only explanation was magic--or an entirely separate plane of existence. I vehemently hoped for the former.
The raised central platform took up only a portion of the space below a glass dome roof that provided a clear view of the sky overhead. Across from the entrance, a wrought iron staircase spiraled up to a balcony section lined with shelf after shelf of old, leather-bound volumes. A wealth of information that would take a normal human lifespan to read. Unless I did something stupid, I would have plenty of time to read them all.
Shelves of preserved ingredients lined the workshop area of the room where Salem would prepare me for my first guided foray into taking control of my powers.
"Lesson number one. There are several different types of magic. You're already familiar with elemental magic; it's essentially what Terra, Evian, Soleil, and Vaeta do. But, they're tapped into the earth, water, fire, and air in a way that you're not. You'll still have to call on, or invoke, each of the elemental spirits for certain spells and rituals. The same kind of invocation is used to bring forth the essence of the gods, depending on what you're trying to accomplish. That part is probably going to be a piece of cake for you since presumably, you're already connected to the gods. It's the first thing a young witch usually learns; as you become more advanced, you'll probably only call the corners for healing or protection, and for ceremonial reasons, like to celebrate a solstice or commune with a specific deity. Witchcraft is not just about making things happen with the wave of your hand--that's why my last couple of charges got blown up; they didn't care about living in harmony with the world around them. Don't make the same mistake."
"I'll give it my best shot." I had already been filled in on the details surrounding the loss of the last eight witches Salem had served; I was his ninth and final charge, and when I died, he would die for the last time. Talk about an added weight on my shoulders. Sure, I could live for centuries, but I could also self-destruct if I chose the wrong path. In a way I hoped I'd never have to deal with all of the pain and loss that comes with an extended life span, and I'd already decided to ignore the possibility--and all of the implications that could make my head spin. Ignorance is bliss.
"Alchemy also falls under elemental magic, and that's where I think we ought to start. You've proved yourself able to successfully call the corners, as evidenced by our little brush with the near-destruction of Kin's soul. Clearly, the gods were willing to answer you, or he'd be dead. Most healing and protection spells require some degree of alchemical skill, especially at this early stage."
"So we're talking about potions?"
"Not just potions; powders, salves, anything that combines ingredients to create a desired effect. Modern pharmaceutical methods are actually closer to the alchemy witches have been practicing for thousands of years--not that anyone would ever recognize or admit to it. Your concoctions will be much stronger and imbued with your own energy and intentions--that's what dif
ferentiates them from those mixed by a layman or a regular human."
"Okay, so what do I do?" I had always tuned out during my classes in school when the teachers began lecturing, and I could feel my attention wandering. Hands-on has always been the best way for me to learn.
"I've gathered the ingredients for a basic luck potion. Now, I want you to follow this recipe as closely as possible. This isn't like cooking, where you can just throw some herbs and spices into a pot and--unless you're a complete dolt--get something edible; it's more like baking, where you have to measure your ingredients precisely and add them at the right time. Let's see how you do."
I set to work, lighting a small fire to heat a medium-sized cauldron and roughly chopping some ginger, then thinly slicing a whole preserved lemon and grinding the mixture into a paste. The recipe called for a significant amount of grain alcohol, a few drops of cinnamon bark essential oil, and a half-dozen four-leaf clovers. Lastly, Salem instructed me to choose a tiger eye stone from one of the many labeled boxes of gems and minerals spread over a large table perpendicular to the alchemy station.
"Now, first you'll need to cleanse that tiger eye, to get rid of any previous user's energy; who knows what nefarious purposes your grandmother might have had for these tools. Better safe than sorry."
"I know how to do this part." I hushed Salem, clasped the stone in my hands and focused on funneling my own will into its molecules. Heat swirled from my elbows to the tips of my fingers, and I could see all of the veins along the back of my hand standing out against the pale golden glow radiating from beneath my skin.
The tiger eye rose in the air before my eyes, and then by no intention of my own, plunged itself into the bubbling cauldron. A fountain of steam erupted from the mouth of the vessel, which abruptly quieted and turned a lovely shade of shimmering emerald.
All Spell is Breaking Loose: Lexi Balefire: Matchmaking Witch (Fate Weaver Book 2) Page 7
