Dawn and Devilry

by S. Usher Evans

  He sank into his desk, a puzzled look on his face. "For what purpose?"

  "I…" I exhaled, shaking my head.

  Ashley smiled. "I hear you've been thinking about bringing more magicals from New Salem."

  "How did you know?" I said.

  "Mora stopped by the other day with those lovely children of hers," Ashley said. "She wanted to know if it was feasible to update the Danvers Accord, or if there was any way the clan would allow more magicals over here. She mentioned there was an incident with a Potion-making child."

  I sat back. "Yes, there was. And yes… I guess that's what I wanted to talk to you about. I have this book about pacts, and it says that a pact can be updated, as long as it has the approval of all the original signatories. Hence why I was hoping to get your list of Clanmasters, perhaps send them a letter. I know it's a long shot, but I thought it might be…worth trying."

  "To what end?"

  "To…amend the Danvers Accord so the magicals from New Salem would be bound by it—or at least, their future children would be. My children's children would be included in that. Then, when all the danger has passed, they can live freely in this world. Without the fear of…" I shrugged. "Cyrus."

  Ashley leaned back in his chair. "Do you believe your mother would sign such a thing? Give up specialties?"

  "If it was a choice between closing the tear with everyone in it or being allowed to see the sun, to live a free life…I believe she'd take it," I said, though I wasn't actually sure that was true. Alexandra remained an enigma to me most days, our recent bonding over Potion-makers aside. "But it would assuage my guilt, in any case. The people of New Salem aren't evil." Except Cyrus. He could remain there for all I cared.

  "As noble as your goals are, I'm afraid, my boy, that updating the Danvers Accord might be a bridge too far. It would be best to continue our original effort to close the tear with the inhabitants inside."

  "I refuse to believe that," I said. "It may take some time, but I could find them all. Even if the signatories don't have any direct descendent, that might not be an issue. They wouldn't be able to protest—"

  "I know members of Clan Carrigan who would."

  I blinked. "So you're saying Irene would prevent this from happening?"

  "I'm saying Irene isn't the only one with concerns. We've had three hundred years of peace since the tear's been closed. What box would we be opening if we changed things?"

  I sank into the chair. I'd always thought Ashley to be my ally, but now I wasn't so sure.

  "Perhaps," Ashley said thoughtfully. "If we were able to close the tear, Clan Carrigan would be more willing to listen. After all, what are we going to do with them if we give them this opportunity to leave New Salem and they opt not to sign it? We'd have no recourse—and they are far more powerful than we are."

  I forced a scowl off my face. "You want me to find a way to close the tear before you'll even bring it up for discussion?"

  "I'm merely trying to give you the best chance possible." He folded his hands on the desk. "You said you were close, didn't you?"

  I nodded. "I suppose I'll keep looking."

  Thirty-One

  I didn't mention to Mora that I'd gone to see Ashley, or what he'd told me. To be honest, I was getting a little annoyed with their entire clan. There were good people in New Salem—people like Mary and her children. But until I had a key to the cage, they wouldn't trust my judgment.

  To that end, I redoubled my efforts to find the final two ingredients of Johanna's potion. I spent hours in libraries, looking for the words Void Lily and Domdafosie. I asked magicals from Norway to the bottom of South America if they'd heard of this ingredient, but none had. I was beginning to suspect maybe Johanna had made a spelling error—or that I was looking for ingredients that no longer existed. And if that was the case, I would be back to where I'd started.

  Summer arrived with fireworks and barbecues with all of Mora's cousins—and two little birthdays to plan. We'd started doing a joint party to celebrate summer and the girls at the same time, since their birthdays were two weeks apart. This year, Mora decided to throw in her baby shower at the same time, just to get all the celebrations out of the way at once.

  "But now we'll have a fall birthday," Mora said with a frown. "I guess we'll have to break them up."

  "I bet we only have one joint party left with Nicole before she starts to protest," I said. "Besides that, she'll be going into kindergarten for the next birthday."

  "Shut your mouth," she said with a stricken face. "Don't remind me."

  "We should probably come up with a name, then, hm?" I said. "For the new baby."

  "Uh, maybe," Mora said, plopping down on the bed. "Are we terrible parents that we haven't even thought about it?"

  "Not at all." I rubbed her back. "We've just been busy."

  "So…what are you thinking?" Mora asked.

  "What are you thinking?"

  "I asked you first."

  I thought for a moment. "Well, she is going to be a Warrior. So it should be a strong name. Something that strikes fear into the hearts of people."

  "For real, Gav?" She snorted. "You want to call her Joan of Arc or something? Xena?"

  I laughed. "Well, okay, what are you thinking?"

  "Ashley could work," Mora said.

  "Like, after your uncle?" She nodded, and I made a face. "I don't know. Don't you have a cousin named Ashley?"

  "I'm sure," she said. "But I don't know. I was thinking we could do a family name."

  "What do you think about Alexandra?"

  She lifted her brows. "As in…after your mother?"

  "Yeah," I said, averting my gaze.

  "The mother who still doesn't know about your daughters."

  "The mother who is a fierce Warrior and powerful Guildmaster," I said. "She can't help how she was raised."

  "I hate the name Alexandra, and I hate your mother. No way.” She pursed her lips. "And why do you want to name her after your mother?"

  I shrugged. "It's a tradition in our village. Name Warrior children after someone you admire. I was named after my mother's master's master."

  "And why do you admire your mother? She's horrible."

  "She…is just a product of her environment," I said. "But she's also powerful, formidable. Her name strikes fear into the names of everyone in the village." I grinned at her. "And I rather like the name, too."

  "Our little girl isn't going to be some bitch warrior like your mother," Mora said. "She's going to use her powers for good."

  "If she's anything like you…" I wisely tempered my words at the dangerous look on my wife's face. "She'll be the most well-behaved, easy-going child ever."

  "Uh-huh," Mora said. "Are you serious about this? Like, does it mean a lot to you?"

  I nodded. "It's kind of like that Warrior thing. Hard to explain but…"

  She held up her hands. "I'll consider it. I still hate the name Alexandra." Her eyes lit up. "Oh, what about Torie?"

  The day of the party dawned bright and warm, and right on the nose, familiar faces began appearing in our front yard, along with their children, who made beelines for the play set I'd conjured for them to play on while the adults caught up and enjoyed beer and finger foods. Mora had really outdone herself, cooking the spread herself and using a warming charm (and one of my freshening charms) to keep it all together before the day of the party. She'd even baked a triple-layer cake and cupcakes for the kids.

  "This is too much," I said, eyeing the spread. "Mora, you really need to take it easy. Please make sure you sit down."

  "I will, I will," she said, whizzing by me with another plate of food. "Promise."

  "Mister Gavon! Mister Gavon!" A redheaded child with bright blue eyes ran over to me, wiping her nose on the back of her hand. "Your baby is using magic! She's not allowed to do that."

  "Marie is a very special girl," I said, bending over. "You'll have magic too, when you're fifteen. She just has it early."

  "Oh." The girl
turned and ran back into the fray. I scanned the magical signatures for my girls', and found Nicole swinging on the playset with a little boy close to her age, and Marie was…

  Levitating herself. To what end, I had no idea, but she was enjoying herself.

  "Gavon," Mora called. "Take care of your daughter please."

  With a wave of my hand, I surrounded Marie with magic and gently placed her back on the ground. Happily, she turned and climbed back up the playset the nonmagical way.

  "I don't know how you put up with that."

  Jeanie was behind me—a sight for sore eyes. "Hey, I'm glad you could make it."

  "Of course," she said, thrusting two bags at me. "For the girls."

  "Oh, wow," I said, genuinely surprised that she'd shown up and even more surprised that she'd brought the girls a present. "Thank you. The girls will love them, I'm sure."

  She nodded, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear.

  "I'm really glad you came," I sent a little magical call to my kids to get their attention. "Hey, girls, come say hi to your aunt."

  Twin squeals echoed amongst the crowd of kids as Nicole and Marie came barreling over and slammed into Jeanie's legs.

  "Oh wow," she said with a laugh. "You two are huge!"

  "Why don't you take Jeanie to the playset and show her your slide?" I said.

  They dragged her toward the gaggle of kids and she disappeared amongst them. It was nice to see her let her hair down, so to speak. I worked the party, talking with cousins and aunts and uncles, who all inquired about the girls, myself, and Mora's pregnancy. It was easy to forget that someone like Irene thought we were weren't worthy of inclusion when the rest of the Carrigans seemed so welcoming.

  "Gavon, my boy! How's that blasted tear research going?" I wasn't sure which of Mora's cousins or second cousins Gary was, but he lived four doors down and always had a smile and a wave.

  "It's going," I said with a grim smile.

  "Those girls of yours are trouble, aren't they? Not even five and already wielding magic. How are you going to handle a third?"

  "We'll manage, I suppose," I said.

  "Gavon!" Mora called, blessedly saving me from more of this conversation. "I need you!"

  We sang a raucous birthday song while both girls beamed happily then dug into their cake. Marie just licked off the frosting one fingertip at a time, while Nicole picked up the whole slice, getting it all over her face and hair. Mora wandered around snapping photos of every moment and going through two different film cartridges.

  Once the cake had been demolished, the party started to dwindle. I spotted Jeanie sitting with Nicole on the front steps of our house, reading her one of the books Jeanie had bought her. Nicole was pointing to the words, and Jeanie was nodding and smiling. It might've been the first genuine smile I'd ever seen on her face.

  "You guys having fun?" I asked.

  "I want to spend the night with Nene," Nicole announced.

  "Oh, I think that's up to your Aunt Jeanie," I said with an apologetic look to Jeanie. I doubted she'd want to bring a four-year-old to the dorms. "But maybe she can come by and play with you some more? Why don't you go get your sister?"

  "I can't believe how much they've grown," Jeanie said. "I mean, Nicole's sitting here having a conversation with me. Marie's talking, too. They're so…big."

  "I turned around and they were little humans," I said with a frown. "I can't imagine how quickly the little one is going to grow up. I'm sure before I know it, she'll be off to college."

  "Slow down. She hasn't even been born yet," Mora said, waddling over to us. She ungracefully plopped down next to her sister. "I'm glad you came, Jeanie. Really."

  Jeanie shrugged, watching the girls chase each other around. "They are my nieces. I guess I should get to know them a little more."

  "Yeah, you should. And you should come home more. I miss you." She rubbed her belly. "And these babies need you."

  "You just want me to babysit."

  "Well, duh." Mora nudged her sister. "But maybe we'll leave the kids with Gav and go on a date. Just us two."

  "Y-yeah, I'd like that," Jeanie said.

  "Are you quite sure that she's capable?"

  A noticeable chill descended on me, even though it was the dead of summer. Irene stood with two small bags in her hand, looking about as pleased to be there as we were to have her. Nina was next to her, nervously looking between Irene and myself. It was clear she'd been the one to goad her sister into coming—albeit two hours late.

  Mora pushed herself to stand and placed a calming hand on my shoulder. "Be nice. I invited her under the condition that she not say or do anything to antagonize you." She turned to Irene with a smile. "Hi Mom. Glad you could make it."

  "Mora, you're looking lovelier every time I see you," Nina said. "How far along are you?"

  "Eight months," she answered with a smile. "October twentieth is my due date."

  "That's just a few weeks away, isn't it?" Nina said to her sister, who didn't share her smile. "Have you decided on a name yet?"

  "In debate," I answered.

  "We'd already exhausted all our girls names with the first two," Mora said with a nervous laugh. "I still like Torie, but Gav likes Alexandra."

  Irene's hawkish gaze slid to me. "As in the name of your mother?"

  "It's a family name, yes," I said, careful to keep my tone even. "But as I said, we're still discussing it."

  "You'd better come to a decision soon," Nina said with an overly cheery smile. "That baby will be here before you know it."

  "Yes, and with all that unbound power," Irene said. "I hear you two have been practicing. Already planning on turning your baby into an expert, are we?"

  "Mother," Mora said. "You promised."

  "Did I say something offensive?"

  "You certainly implied it," I snapped. "What my wife and I do with our kids, and how we choose to raise them, is none of your concern."

  "It certainly is," Irene said. "Every day their powers grow stronger, and you two encourage it. All the while, the tear between the worlds sits wide open for anyone to cross through."

  "And yet, it's been only me," I said.

  "For now. But how long until you change your mind? I've heard you wanted to bring more of your kin here. For what purpose—"

  "To save their lives, Irene. Unlike you, I happen to have a little thing called empathy." Mora's hand tightened on my shoulder, and I swallowed hard, eating the rest of my angry words. I would not let Irene cause another fight, not on such a happy day. I wouldn't give her that satisfaction.

  "I've asked the clan to reconsider their original decision about you," Irene said, lifting her head. "It's clear Ashley has lost his ability to lead effectively. Having you here, and letting you drag your feet on everything you've promised, all the while growing your brood of potential problems—"

  "Those are your grandchildren," Mora said, rising to her feet. "They aren't problems. They're kids."

  "Mommy?" Nicole said, hiding her face behind Mora's legs. "Why is Gram yelling at us?"

  "She's not," Mora said, pressing a hand to her head. "She was just leaving."

  "The next meeting, I'm calling for a reconsideration of your placement here," Irene said, turning on her heel. "I suggest you make progress by then."

  Thirty-Two

  Despite my best efforts, Mora and I did have something of a fight, but it was less words and more Mora's unsaid annoyance. Also the locked door when I tried to go to bed.

  So I sat in the basement, staring at the confounded journal that I'd read cover to cover more times than I could count, with a six pack of beer beside me and no good answers. I fully believed Irene would make good on her promise, and I also believed the clan members who'd just dined and had cake in my backyard might be inclined to permanently remove me from it, if they listened to her. Updating the Danvers Accord was a pipe dream at this point; I first needed to make sure I could stay. But just as it had been the last time I'd picked up this journal, I
had no idea where to find the last two ingredients of Johanna's potion.

  "Daddy?"

  "Nicole?" I looked up. "Nicole, go back to bed. It's late."

  "I had a bad dream." She padded down the stairs in her white nightgown, her brown hair hanging around her shoulders. "Can I stay down here with you? Mommy's door is closed."

  "Of course, baby, come on." I held open my arms, and she crawled into them, resting her small head on my shoulder. "Did you have a scary dream?"

  She nodded. "Gram is scary."

  "Gram is very scary," I said, grabbing my half-empty bottle of beer and taking a swig. "But deep down, she does love you. She just…doesn't know how to express it very well."

  "What are you reading?" she asked.

  "Just a journal," I said, showing her the potion. "This was a potion made by a Potion-maker over three hundred years ago."

  "Like me?" she said, leaning forward.

  "Yes, baby, just like you." I smiled. "She made this potion to keep all the bad people in a faraway place. And that's where Daddy came from."

  "So are you a bad people?" Nicole asked.

  "No, all the bad people died hundreds of years ago. Now it's just…people there. But your Gram wants me to fix the hole I made. That's what she's so mad about." I ran my fingers along the page. "But Daddy can't figure it out, and that's why Mommy is mad at Daddy tonight."

  She twisted in my arms and took my face in her hands. "Mommy shouldn't be mad at you for that."

  "No arguments from me, kiddo." I rose with her in my arms. "But she will be mad at me if I keep you up. Let's go to bed."

  I ended up contorted in an odd position on my daughter's bed, while she snuggled up next to me. I didn't sleep, watching the lights pass on the ceiling until dawn broke. I heard the door open down the hall, followed by quiet footsteps. My wife appeared in the doorframe, surprise turning into amusement as she took me in.

  "You look uncomfortable," she said, leaning on the doorframe.

  "So do you," I said, turning on the pillow.

  "Well, that goes without saying." She rested her hand on her stomach. "I'm sorry."