Always a Witch

by Carolyn Maccullough

  I swallow. "I think Rosie's got that part of the job down."

  Cook's mouth bunches up a little. "She gets jealous of any girl who looks twice at him. Why do you think they never last here? I've told Dawn and Lily time and again to keep their eyes down and their mouths shut. Thankfully, they do. And they look out for each other. But you—you should leave while you can."

  "I'm working on it," I mutter.

  Thirty-eight, thirty-nine, holy hell this is taking forever, forty-one, forty-two. While moving Jessica's ivory-handled brush through her hair, I've been counting out the strokes per Rosie's instructions. Fifty in the morning, one hundred at night before bed. Although it seems like no amount of brushing is going to transform Jessica's hair into anything from the heavy dull mat that it currently is.

  "Enough," Jessica says at last. Gratefully, I put down the brush and pick up a handful of pins, just as La Spider makes her second appearance of the morning. My hand trembles. A pin falls to the floor.

  In the mirror Jessica's face is set and tight, her smile brittle as she greets the older woman. "Mother. What a pleasant surprise. To what do I owe this honor?"

  La Spider pauses in the doorway, takes in Jessica's choice of gown this morning. "That color doesn't suit you at all," she says at last.

  Secretly, I had thought the same thing earlier, but Jessica had insisted on the lime green morning dress and I wasn't about to argue with a Knight over clothes.

  "Yes, it makes me look positively ghastly, doesn't it?" Jessica agrees, beaming at her mother as if the woman has just paid her the nicest compliment.

  La Spider's hands twitch and I want to cry out to Jessica, She's already chewed up and spit out one woman today. Then I squelch down the feeling of loyalty to Jessica, feeling distinctly unloyal to my own family.

  "Well, perhaps your new music tutor won't be so quick to fall in love with you as the last one was."

  Jessica presses her hands together in her lap and takes a breath. "What do you mean, Mother?" she asks in a carefully blank voice that even I can tell is a dead giveaway.

  So can La Spider, because she smiles from the doorway. "Just this morning, I've hired a new music tutor for you, since it seems you dismissed the last one. Did you think that your little shenanigan would go unnoticed?"

  "My little shenanigan?" Jessica repeats carefully. Her eyes flicker to mine in the mirror. With the tiniest of motions, I shake my head. "I tired of the lessons. I'm not talented at all."

  "Oh, I don't disagree with that. Nevertheless, a lady is expected to play at least three instruments—"

  "Charmingly," Jessica finishes. "I know all that. Don't worry, Mother. I doubt that Edward Newcastle will refuse to marry me if I'm not able to dazzle him with my skills at the pianoforte. Your money and your title will be enough. Really, you should just marry him. Oh, I forgot—you're too old, aren't you? That would be unseemly."

  I take a half step back, expecting Jessica or the furniture to go flying across the room. I steel myself to not stop it this time, because twice would be too coincidental. Besides which, I don't care if Jessica gets hurt. She's a Knight, after all. Not like Cook. Still, I find myself staring down at the eggshell-white part in her hair while fiercely willing La Spider to leave.

  But La Spider only sighs. "How I ended up with you for a daughter is beyond me. Your new tutor is waiting for you in the drawing room. And then you and I will be lunching with the ladies' riding club. And then I believe you will have a caller this afternoon, so you will cancel all your engagements. You will listen to what Edward Newcastle has to say and you will be thrilled to accept his idea that the wedding will take place sooner than we planned. In fact, I will be giving a party to announce your engagement this weekend. Is that clear?"

  "Yes, Mother. Thrilled," Jessica parrots, but she doesn't raise her eyes.

  Her mother pauses, one jeweled white hand on the doorknob. "And if you misbehave or cross me in any way this afternoon, if there is anything other than the result I expect, then understand that your Mr. Finnegan will pay for it. Dearly."

  Jessica dips her chin in what her mother must take for a nod. La Spider delivers her parting shot while exiting. "Change that dress. Now. And burn it."

  Fifteen

  "WELL, FIND ANOTHER GUTTER brat, then! I'm counting on this little piece of entertainment for tonight."

  Halfway across the foyer, I freeze. La Spider's tones ring across the hallway, and even as I look around for a place to hide, I wonder if it's even necessary. She doesn't seem to care what her servants know about her. Or rather, she doesn't seem to even realize that her servants have any brains to process anything at all. So I creep closer to the door that leads to her study and, after a second, press my ear to the wooden panel.

  "Horace is looking right now and Rosie was supposed to—" Liam's voice chokes off with a wet gargle. "Mother," he gasps finally. "I'm rather fond of my windpipe."

  "Horace! I never want to see that toad of a man. And you put too much stock in that girl. Don't think I don't know what's going on between you two."

  "She's useful to me, Mother. That's all."

  "They're all useful. Up to a point. But to consort with a human like that? Filthy." The violence in that last word makes me take a step back.

  "Will there be anything else?" Liam asks finally, his voice dipped in frost to match his mother's tone.

  "Not for now. Use Jessica's maid if you have to, but no more after that. People will start to talk if we lose another maid," La Spider answers. The sound of footsteps makes me scamper across the marble foyer. The door swings open and Liam strides out. His eyebrows jut together across his face; his mouth is caught in mid-snarl. He looks like a lion awakened at just the wrong moment. I flatten myself next to a large gilt-edged mirror, but he catches sight of me, stops suddenly.

  "Agatha," he purrs pleasantly, and like smoke in the wind, all traces of anger wisp off his face. He advances on me. "And how are you finding our pleasant household?"

  A minefield.

  But I give him a quick, appropriately shy smile back and even bob a half curtsy. "Very well, sir. It suits me fine."

  His smile broadens. "Wonderful. And how is my sister? Not too strict a taskmistress, I hope?"

  "Oh, no, sir. Lady Jessica is lovely. Truly lovely."

  Liam's eyebrow shoots up as if he can't help himself before he leans closer. The smell of his aftershave, spicy sweet, begins to prick at my nose. I shift my arms and try to step forward, but he's caged me in too effectively. "You can tell me if she works you too hard. Makes you run around too much. Mending this, mending that." He gives a wave of his hand.

  I flick my own eyebrow upward. "Truly, sir. She's fine."

  "Good, good," he says, and begins to turn away. But I don't let myself take a deep breath yet. "You know," he begins, and looms back over me. "I wonder if you might help me out with something, then." His voice slips into a murmur. "If my sister can spare you."

  I swear he almost salivates over the word spare.

  "I'm sure whatever you need help with Mr. Tynsdell can do for you. I don't know much about cravats or suits or bowler hats."

  "Oh, no, no, no," Liam says, and now he's smiling down at me. The muscles in his shoulders flex under his thin white shirt as he leans up against the wall. With the lightest touch, he traces the curve of my cheekbone.

  Poor Livie and the other girls. He treated them the same way. And I can only imagine how they went all fluttery and did exactly what he wanted. Wrong girl, I want to snap at him. Just as I'm about to slam my palm into his forehead and test out whether or not Aunt Beatrice's Talent has deserted me, he says, "I need you. Just for something small," he coaxes, and all at once a tingling radiates across my nerves. The edges of Liam's outlines start to quiver and ripple.

  Bracing my boots on the floor, I look up at him, making sure to keep a slightly glazed-over expression on my face. "Sir," I whisper, making sure to put just enough of a tremble into my voice. "I ... I feel so dizzy."

 
Actually, I feel just the opposite. Really, maybe I should major in drama when I get to college.

  Liam draws back suddenly, confusion scrolling across his face. I lower my lids and let my lips tremble as I lean into him. "I felt so strange for a moment there."

  Come on, you sick bastard. One more time and then we'll see how you like it when someone jumps inside of you.

  "Oh," I cry, letting one hand flutter up to my chest. "Sir, I—"

  "Agatha," says a sharp voice, cutting through my act. Liam steps backwards and now I really do stumble a little. Rosie's cheeks are brick red, as if she's just been slapped, and her hands are twisted together. But her voice evens out as she says, "You're late with Lady Jessica's tea in the music room."

  I cast a sidelong glance at Liam, whose face has smoothed over. He nods at me as if we've just encountered each other in the foyer. As I slip past Rosie toward the kitchen, the look of loathing she gives me sizzles into the side of my face.

  But I can't keep from smiling once I'm out of both of their sights. All I need is to get Liam to use his Talent one more time against me.

  ***

  Brisk piano playing streams forth from the music room, so I don't bother to knock. Not that I could have anyway, since my hands are full with balancing the tea tray.

  Jessica is seated at the piano, her hands moving across the keys while her new tutor is turning the pages on the music stand. I barely look at them as I cross the room and set the tray down on the small side table. Hidden from view, I begin pouring the tea into the porcelain cups. Obviously, Liam managed to extract poor Livie's blood by slipping into her body—she probably had no memory of what happened to her each time. He must have bled her and let her stumble back to her duties not understanding why she was growing weaker and weaker.

  The piano music crescendos and then fades away. "I'll take the tea over here, Agatha," Jessica says. I nod, arranging the lumps of sugar with the silver tongs on a small saucer. Hooking the cups with my fingers, I start across the room toward Jessica and her new music tutor, who finally raises his face from the music stand and meets my eyes directly.

  Hot tea scalds my fingers as the cup falls to the carpet.

  It's Gabriel.

  "Agatha!" Jessica's voice rings out, sharp with reproof, a thin echo of her mother's.

  "I'm so sorry, my lady," I murmur, and rescue the cup from the floor. Black tea leaves dot the backs of my fingers. "I'll get a fresh cup. It won't happen again."

  "See that it doesn't," Jessica says. I bite down hard on my lip and rush out the door.

  Of course this is what would happen. You wanted him to come and now he's here and now he's going to be in danger and it's all your fault. Liam will get to him somehow and learn how to Travel. Stupidstupidstupid.

  I dash into the kitchen, ignoring Cook's surprised look, snatch a fresh cup from the shelf, and dash back out.

  Back in the music room, Gabriel is holding up the music book again and turning the pages. "I think your left hand needs strengthening. I noticed it on that last piece. I don't want you to attempt this piece again until you've mastered this one here and here," he says, indicating the pages. My heart can't help but float upward at the sound of his voice, the first truly friendly one I've heard in days.

  Jessica's eyes move rapidly and she nods, seeming casually interested. She gives me a sidelong look but doesn't comment as I rush over to the tray and begin pouring a second cup. I've got time to observe that Gabriel seems to be dressed in exactly the perfect 1880s apparel. Freshly pressed dark trousers and a matching vest with a gleaming white shirt underneath. His hair's been tied back. No patches or dust or the overwhelming scent of mothballs, which means he didn't find his new clothes in my family's attic.

  "Sugar in your tea? Sir?" I ask as I hand Jessica her first cup.

  His eyes meet mine again. "Thanks, but I'm not in a sugary mood today, Agatha."

  Okay. This is not going to go well.

  Jessica gives him a puzzled glance over the rim of her cup, but I nod and return to my tray, feeling the back of my neck burn. I fuss as long as I can over the cup, listening as Gabriel gives Jessica more instructions. Finally, after handing him his cup, which he accepts without even looking at me, I ask Jessica if she needs anything else. She shakes her head, dismissing me.

  "I'll just be close by. Very close by, if you need anything, my lady," I state loudly, and she flashes me an annoyed glance before turning back to the music book.

  Heading to the door, I do my best not to look back, because then I'll want to do something undeniably stupid like fling myself into Gabriel's arms.

  Sixteen

  I SLIP INTO THE NEXT ROOM after a cautious knock to make sure that it's empty. It seems to be yet another parlor where the family could receive guests. Who knew you needed so many of these places?

  I pace three times around a pink love seat and a matching pink chair, and then change directions before stopping to watch the squares of morning sunlight inch across the floral rug. Finally, the door opens.

  "What are you doing here?" I hiss as soon as Gabriel shuts the door behind him. Okay, that wasn't the first thing I meant to say. Or even the second. It's just what came out.

  "Looking for you, you idiot," he hisses back, and takes four strides toward me.

  "You can't be here," I say desperately. "You don't understand. Liam is going to—"

  But now he's reached me. As he pulls me into his arms, I lift my face to his. "Oh, no," he states. "Don't even think we're about to kiss and make up. You. Are. In. So Much. Trouble." He punctuates each statement with a shake.

  "Ouch! Stop. What are you talking about? In trouble with you? Why?"

  Gabriel stops shaking me but doesn't let go of my upper arms. Instead, he regards me evenly in silence. "Tamsin," he says. I almost want to cry with the relief of having someone use my real name. "You're a smart girl. But let me walk you through this. Now think. Why would I—"

  "All right, all right. I get it. Because I've been blocking you from finding me."

  "Not just that," Gabriel interjects.

  "Okay, I didn't tell you I was leaving. But that's only because I didn't want you to come with me. It's too dangerous. You don't—"

  Gabriel's eyes narrow and I swallow hard before pressing on. "Okay, maybe you don't like hearing that, but it's the truth."

  "It's too dangerous for me, but not for you?" he asks softly. Meanwhile, his fingers have tightened on my shoulders again.

  "Okay, seriously, I know that the male ego probably can't handle hearing that, but—"

  "You don't get to make my decisions for me, Tamsin. Is that clear? I would think that of all people you would understand just how frustrating that is." Abruptly, he drops his hands from my shoulders and steps away from me.

  The distance yawns between us.

  Blurry gold bars of sunlight slide across the floor. I blink until I can see clearly again. "I'm sorry," I whisper finally.

  Gabriel nods. "You should have told me," he says in a low, colorless voice. "You should have told me what you were planning to do. And when Rowena told me what happened, I couldn't even find you anyway..." He twists his vest as if it's suddenly choking him. "I thought you ... I thought you had died," he adds flatly.

  I take a step forward. "Gabriel—"

  "But then I realized that no, I would have been able to at least find your body. So I kept trying. And then I realized you were blocking me."

  A pulse is twitching in the skin over his throat, and I want to touch him but realize that's probably not a good idea right now. Instead, I say, "I stopped. Last night, I thought about it and I knew that it ... that I really wanted you..." My voice trails off. Apparently that was the wrong thing to say, too. Instead of leaping all over that statement and making one of his usual innuendos, Gabriel gives me that same hard look that means he's still angry.

  "I didn't just arrive last night," Gabriel says.

  I try not to let my jaw drop. It does anyway. "You didn't? But I was ..
. when did you get here, then?"

  "Yesterday morning." He pauses, then adds, "I'm actually not at your beck and call, Tamsin."

  "I didn't say you were," I say, my cheeks suddenly burning. "I ... okay, how did you arrive, then?"

  "You weren't blocking me from Traveling. You were blocking me from finding you. So, I looked for Alistair. Easy enough."

  "Oh." I shut my mouth with a snap. There doesn't seem to be anything to add to that.

  "What?" Gabriel asks.

  "Nothing," I snap. "It's just ... I'm annoyed that I didn't think of that." I study the vines running through the square of wool carpet at my feet.

  "You're annoyed? You're annoyed that I'm smarter than you?"

  "You're not smarter than me," I blaze, looking up at him. And sure enough, he's laughing at me. "How dare you! How dare you laugh at me!"

  "Wow, you're even starting to talk like you're from the 1800s. Are you going to stamp your foot now and toss your head at me?" And he starts laughing even harder.

  "No," I mutter, but I'm trying not to smile now. "Jerk."

  "And may I say you look pretty damn hot in that maid's uniform. How come you never dress up like that for me?"

  I roll my eyes. "I take it you've forgiven me."

  "You take it wrong," Gabriel says lightly, and then closes the distance between us again. "But you can try to persuade me to."

  I lean back in his arms, tilt my face up to him again, and flutter my eyelashes in an exaggerated manner. "I thought you said we're weren't going to kiss and make up."

  "That was then, Tam, this is now. Now shut up."

  And then he's kissing me like crazy. I wrap my arms around his neck, my nails digging into his shoulders. I decide to let myself forget all about the Knights for a moment. Or two.