Daughter of the Spellcaster

by Maggie Shayne

  What kind of swing set should they get? They would design and build one themselves.

  Were they for or against backyard trampolines? For.

  How old should Eleanora be before she got her first puppy? Old enough to ask for one.

  And what would her middle name be? Sarah, after Ryan’s mother.

  Selma had made her grocery run and returned, put it all away, then busied herself downstairs for the rest of the day. She’d never set foot on the stairs. Because, Lena thought, she was the best mother in the world. And now...

  “Smells like Mom’s cooking dinner,” Lena said.

  “Oh. I suppose the polite thing to do would be to go down there, then.” Ryan pouted, then lifted his brows. “On the other hand, it smells really good.”

  He kept an arm around her, as if it was the natural, normal thing to do, and they walked into the hallway. She stopped, turning to look up at him. “Are we...are we together again, Ryan?”

  He frowned at her. “Well, we’re having a baby together.”

  “I know, but...then what?”

  He blinked and lowered his eyes. “I’m being totally honest with you here right now, Lena. I haven’t even had a chance to think that far. This is all... It’s happening fast. A few days ago I didn’t even know about Eleanora, so I’m just struggling to keep up.”

  “I know. I know, I didn’t mean to push or...”

  “Can we let it unfold for a little bit and see where it’s going?”

  No.

  “Sure,” she said. “Sure we can.” And then she trotted down the stairs ahead of him and hurried into the kitchen, where her mother was opening and closing cabinets, and looking flustered. “What’s up, Madre?”

  “Oh, hell’s bells, I’m just so absentminded.” She looked at Lena, made a sheepish face and pushed her hands through her curls. “I spent all afternoon making my special pasta sauce and meatballs—”

  “We smelled it upstairs,” Ryan said as he came into the kitchen. “It lured us in like a siren’s song.”

  “Well, there’s no pasta. Nowhere in this house is there a single strand of spaghetti.” She sighed, then brightened. “Ryan, I don’t suppose you would run down to the little store in town for me and pick up a box? The Grapevine is only fifteen minutes away, and they’re open for a half hour yet.”

  “Only if I get the biggest meatball.” He headed straight for the door and grabbed his jacket, put it on and dipped into his right-hand pocket for his keys. Then he frowned, patting himself down. The keys jangled when he hit the left-hand pocket, and he pulled them out, still frowning. “Huh. That’s odd.”

  Lena cringed, realizing her mom had put them back on the wrong side. Selma met her eyes and shrugged apologetically. “Just a box of spaghetti. We’ve got everything else.”

  “All right. I’ll be back ASAP.” Key snafu forgotten, Lena thought. He headed out to the truck, but Lena found herself looking out the window, watching until the truck was out of sight.

  “Things took a turn for the better today, hmm?” her mother asked.

  Lena glanced her way, her face heating, and couldn’t stop herself from smiling.

  “Oh, gosh, look at you. I haven’t seen you this happy since...well, since we left New York,” Selma said.

  “I think it’s happening, Mom. I think he’s starting to fall in love with me. I really do.”

  “Oh, baby. How could he not?” Selma smiled and turned back to the fridge, taking items from it one by one. Lettuce, salad dressing, a cucumber.

  Lena turned for one last glance out the window and saw that this time someone was looking back at her. That black cat, sleek and gleaming, with huge green eyes. It was sitting halfway down the driveway with its tail curled around its body, watching her. Staring.

  “Mom, there’s that cat I told you about again.”

  Her mother came quickly, wiping her hands on a dish towel and leaning in to peek out the window beside her. “I’ve seen her twice over the past week,” Selma said. “She’s such a witch cat. I wonder if she’s lost and waiting for us to help her out, or if she’s trying to adopt us?”

  “Give me a meatball. I’m going to see if I can lure her inside. Or at least leave it out there somewhere. I think she’s been bunking in the small barn.”

  Selma rushed to the pot on the stove, while Lena headed to the front door to put on her parka and boots. Her mother brought her half a meatball, mashed into small pieces in a plastic bowl.

  “Don’t be long, okay?” her mother said. “And be careful.”

  “I need some fresh air, Mom. A walk will do me good. I’ve got a lot of thinking to do.”

  “All right.” Selma returned to making the salad, and Lena went outside into the dusk, where she could see her breath. The cat just sat there, still watching her—waiting for her, she thought. Odd, when it usually ran away the minute she made eye contact.

  She was glad her mother had seen it, too. At least she didn’t have to worry that she might be imagining it.

  She walked down the driveway toward the cat, which waited until she was almost close enough to touch it, then turned and trotted away, straight into the copse of trees behind Bahru’s cabin. Unlike the woods where Selma had wandered the other night, these led all the way to the lakeshore. The cat entered near the start of a narrow trail, one Lena had never explored very far before.

  She was intrigued, because the cat paused at the trailhead and looked back at her, then moved on again, almost as if it wanted her to follow.

  So Lena left the bowl on a rock and followed, calling, “Here, kitty kitty” in a silly falsetto that she had to admit would never have worked on her, had she been a cat.

  Every little while the sleek black feline would stop and wait for her to catch up, then stalk forward again.

  She found herself following the meandering path through the tiny woodlot and out the other side, then uphill for a little way, until she emerged at the prettiest spot she had ever seen. She’d known it was here. The log cabin that had once been owned—maybe still was, for all she knew—by a priest, was farther along the path, which took a steep upward jog from here. This spot was plus or minus the halfway point in between, and while she’d glimpsed it from below, she’d never come up here to check it out, though she’d wanted to.

  A waterfall tumbling from an even higher spot splashed into a small pond. The pond hadn’t frozen over—probably couldn’t, with that waterfall pounding down into it.

  The cat was sitting near the water’s edge, waiting for her. She moved closer, and saw that just to the right of the pond the ground dropped off sharply—and it was a long way to the lake below. On the far side, behind the waterfall, there was an opening.

  A cave?

  And voices. Definitely voices.

  The cat bounced from its spot to the top of a boulder on Lena’s left, then jumped off the back. Lena ducked behind the boulder, too, wondering why she felt as if she had some reason to keep from being seen.

  And she guessed she did have. A gut feeling. No more than that. But she always trusted her gut. Her mother had taught her that, and yeah, maybe she’d been hallucinating some stuff lately, but still...better safe than sorry. So she crouched there, peeking around one side and waiting to see what happened.

  To her utter shock, she spotted Bahru. He seemed to be coming out of the cave, but he stopped just on the other side of the waterfall. He was a liquid blur of red and white. But he was speaking loud and clear, and despite the cascade’s splashing, she heard every word.

  “If I had known they would banish you from the house, I’d have convinced them not to, Master. I swear I would. But it does not matter.”

  Did he just say “Master”?

  “It won’t matter. Once the baby comes, it will be done. Her power will die. And you will live again.”

/>   Lena gasped, then clapped a hand over her own mouth to shut herself up. What the hell was going on here?

  “It has to be soon. She is catching on.”

  She leaned out a little further, trying like hell to see who he was talking to. There was definitely someone else there. But she couldn’t make him out. Just a dark shadow beyond the waterfall.

  Wait a minute, a dark shadow?

  If I had known they would banish you from the house...

  Was it their house ghost? Was their house ghost—or whatever he was—conspiring with Bahru? And what the hell did all this have to do with her baby?

  The cat bumped Lena’s hand with its head, and she looked down as she complied with its demand to be stroked. And that was when she noticed that it wore a collar with a phone number woven into the fabric. No dangling metal tags to disrupt kitty’s hunting fun. It must have particularly insightful people. Lena made a mental note of the number, crouching lower as Bahru emerged fully from the cave, walking right through the waterfall, though he held a dark cloak of some sort over his head to keep him from getting soaked, and—

  A dark cloak. Just like the ones those people in the woods were wearing in Mom’s photos.

  She flashed back to when her mother first regained consciousness and had been muttering Bahru’s name. Maybe she hadn’t been asking for him at all. Maybe she had been remembering who she’d seen in the woods that night.

  Lena huddled lower as he came forward, whipping the cloak off his head and giving it a brisk shake before bundling it under one arm, all without breaking stride.

  He walked right past her. She prayed the cat wouldn’t move and give them away, but when she glanced at the animal, it was crouching low, tail twitching in agitation and emitting a deep growl.

  Holy shit.

  Lena couldn’t trust her favorite guru anymore, that much was clear. But how the hell was she going to find out what he was up to, much less prevent it?

  She had to see what was inside that cave, she decided. Stroking the cat, she whispered, “All right, cat. You’ve delivered your message. You wait here, okay? I’m going inside.” She got to her feet, drew a fortifying breath and headed for the waterfall.

  14

  Lena pulled up her hood, braced herself and darted through the waterfall as fast as she possibly could, then quickly shrugged off her coat and shook it hard. It was wet but not soaked through. Good enough.

  She pulled it back on again as she looked around the interior of the cave, and shivered. Whatever entity Bahru had been conversing with was not in sight. It wouldn’t be hard to miss a being that resembled a shadow, though. There were shadows everywhere. Still, she didn’t feel its presence. She’d always known when the house ghost was near, long before she’d started catching glimpses of it. And she didn’t feel that nearness now.

  Wishing for a flashlight, she moved deeper into the cave, her steps slow and careful, her eyes gradually adjusting to the darkness. The cave seemed to penetrate deep into the hillside, and it seemed to curve away as it receded into the distance.

  Something moved in the darkness, and she froze, sucking in a breath so fast it hurt her chest.

  “Mrrow.”

  Squinting, she leaned forward. “Cat?”

  “Mrrrrrow.”

  The cat trotted toward her a few steps, then stopped and waited.

  “How did you get in here? Did you run through that waterfall?” But it couldn’t have. Even in the near-darkness she could tell it wasn’t as drenched as it would be if it had come through that cascade. There must be another way in. And now the cat seemed to be asking her to follow. Again.

  “All right, but I can’t stay in here much longer.” Bahru might come back.

  And yet, even if he did, she didn’t think he would venture this deeply into the cave. Something told her he never had. This place had an empty feel to it. The air was stale, and it felt devoid of any hint of human energy.

  She started toward the cat, which turned and pranced a few feet farther along, then stopped and sat down. It sat tall and regal, and groomed a paw while it waited for her. She stopped. “Now what?” she asked.

  The cat looked at her, then gave a slow, arrogant blink as only a cat could.

  Sighing, Lena looked around, seeing nothing but the stone floor, the stone wall, the little pile of stones that—oh, wait. That pile of stones. That wasn’t natural. That had been put there.

  She went closer, kneeling awkwardly for a better look. “There’s something under here,” she said, and began moving the stones aside one by one until she uncovered it. A miniature treasure chest with black metal bands around it. It looked old. Hands trembling, she lifted the lid, surprised that though it appeared to be locked, it opened easily.

  Inside lay a cylindrical bundle tied up with a thong. Her hands trembling, she untied it, unrolled it and saw that there were parchment pages inside. As she flattened them out, an envelope fluttered to the cave floor and lay there looking up at her.

  It was too dark to read the pages, but the printing on the front of the envelope was big and easy to see, even inside the cave. It was a modern envelope, not old, like the rest. And it had a single word handwritten across the front.

  Magdalena

  “That’s just not possible,” she whispered. But there it was. She explored her own mind, to try to determine whether or not she might be hallucinating this entire event. Or dreaming it. But the stone walls felt real when she pressed her palms to them. Hard and cool. The air tasted the way it should. The water had been icy cold and wet. The cat rubbed itself over her legs, and even it felt the way a cat should feel.

  It was real. Someone had left this chest and a note for her to find in this cave. And the cat had led her to them.

  She set the pages and envelope aside, and closed the box, then carefully buried it again, covering it with loose rocks to hide it from view. It was too awkward to carry back to the house, too big for her to sneak it in unnoticed, and she had a feeling she needed to keep this to herself until she figured out what was going on. The box was beautiful, possibly even valuable, but it wasn’t important right now. The pages and the note were. She folded the envelope and stuffed it deep into a coat pocket. The scroll she tucked inside the jacket, under her arm. Then she scooped up the cat, who allowed it but didn’t seem amused. Stuffing the cat, too, inside her coat, she pulled up the hood and ducked through the waterfall again. Then she took the poor feline out from under her jacket but continued carrying it as she hurried back to the house. The cat, which Lena decided was female, didn’t seem inclined to escape. By the time she got back she was tired from the long walk, but also fired up. Ryan had been right. She hadn’t hallucinated any of this. Something was happening. She’d been right about that all along. It was real, it was supernatural, and it was important. And it involved her and her baby. But she had help. Of that she was sure. She had the cat, and she had the ancient pages and note, and she was going to figure this out.

  She reached the house and saw that Ryan’s truck was back in the driveway. Eager to see him and show him her finds, she went inside, then froze as she saw Bahru sitting in front of the fire, sipping tea, while her mother and Ryan set the table.

  Ryan sent her a smile as she walked in. “I was just about to go looking for you,” he said, walking over to her and raising his brows at the cat. “Who’s this?”

  “I found her wandering. Thought I’d keep her safe until I can locate her owner.” Her eyes shifted to Bahru, and she plastered on a smile that felt stiff and phony, hoping he couldn’t tell. “Hi, Bahru.”

  “Hello, Lena. How are you feeling?”

  The cat hissed and dove out of her arms, then tore through the room and up the stairs like a black streak. Ryan frowned at the cat and then at Lena. He saw through her fake smile, she knew that much.

  “Bahru’s
joining us for dinner,” her mother called from the kitchen, and even her voice sounded strained, the cheerfulness hollow. “Isn’t that nice?”

  “Awesome.” Lena kept that false smile in place. “I’m going to need some supplies if we’re going to keep the cat around. The Grapevine’s closed until tomorrow, though. Maybe after dinner we should take a drive into Ithaca.”

  “Sleet and freezing rain are predicted for the evening,” Bahru said. “It might be best to wait until morning, see how the road conditions are.”

  “It’s funny you’d know that, Bahru,” Lena said, trying to sound conversational rather than challenging. “You don’t even have a television out there in the cottage.”

  “I do not watch television. I do have a radio, however.”

  “Oh.” She shrugged. “And of course you’re right. No point in taking unnecessary risks just for kitty litter.”

  “There’s a pile of sawdust in one of the outbuildings,” her mother called from the kitchen. “We can use that for tonight.” She smiled at Lena. “Did she eat the meatball?”

  “No, she wouldn’t touch it. I forgot the bowl, though. I’ll get it later.”

  “No problem. We’ll find her a can of tuna. She won’t turn her nose up at that.”

  Lena considered her options, upset that Bahru had just effectively stolen her excuse to get out of the house tonight. She’d been thinking of taking her mother and Ryan along with her and maybe not coming back. Probably a big overreaction, but still...

  Selma set a steaming pot of sauce and meatballs in the middle of the table, then went back for a bowl of freshly cooked spaghetti and still-warm garlic bread. The salad was already there. “Dig in,” she called.

  But Lena was still standing in front of the door with her coat on, to hide the bundled pages hidden under her arm. She heeled off her boots and then, without explaining herself, headed up the stairs.

  “Lena?” her mother called after her.

  “I, um—I don’t want the cat up here. I’ll just grab her and bring her back down. Won’t be a minute.”