I took a dropper from the vial of chicken blood Mrs. Winter had delivered from the kitchen. Better to use the run-off from my mother’s dinner preparations than to sacrifice some poor bird. The closed golden bud stretched upwards at the scent of the opened bottle. The beautiful shimmering gold made way for the scaly brown reality as the bud opened up.
“I am not feeding you my blood,” I told the little vampiric blossom. “With my luck, you would grow ten feet tall and start eating people whole.”
Later in the day, my parents had been allowed a whopping hour-long visit, in the spirit of the holiday season. I’d like to think that some part of Mrs. Winter felt guilty that Mary had run away, leaving my parents with no child to comfort them. But honestly, it probably had more to do with the fact that my father’s work was suffering and mother’s cooking had become subpar.
My poor parents. Papa looked like he’d aged ten years. And the unhappy lines around Mum’s mouth had furrowed even deeper. Hearing that I’d almost died at the fancy school that was supposed to be my redemption hadn’t exactly comforted them.
“I just don’t understand how any of this happened,” Mum said, turning a cooling cup of peppermint tea in her hands, as we sat around the kitchen worktable.
“Have you heard from Mary?” I asked. “Do you know where she is?”
Papa shook his head. “Not since the night of the party.”
I waited for the familiar, sinking weight of guilt, for not protecting Mary from herself. But it didn’t come. Mary had made the choices that led her here. And for once, I was going to let her feel the consequences.
Mum sniffed. “How did we lose so much so quickly?”
“You haven’t lost me, Mum,” I told her. “Things are just different now. They were bound to change someday, right? I was always going to grow up, pull away a little bit. It just happened a little bit earlier than we thought.”
“I don’t know what we were thinking, trying to hide what you could do,” Papa said. “It wasn’t right, like trying to pretend away a part of you.”
“I just wish I knew why I was born like this,” I said. “Miss Morton said that there are other children like me. Changelings who can do magic. More being born every year.”
“Why would that be happening?” Mum asked.
“Maybe magic is a living thing,” Papa said. “The Guardians talk about it like it’s as fickle as wind or water. But anything that involves that much intention, has to be aware of itself. Maybe that ribbon of magic that runs through all Guardians, that spark that allows them to bend the universe to their will, isn’t happy with how the Guardians have been using it. So it’s restoring the balance. Like in nature; forest fires, they can be devastating, but they can also lead to new growth. Maybe magic is turning the tide, giving power to people that will make better use of it.”
Mum and I both stared at my father, who hadn’t strung that many clear, coherent sentences together in years. Papa shrugged. “I could be wrong.”
Mum did something I’d never seen her do in all my fourteen years. She threw her head back and cackled. Full bellied, throaty guffaws. My mouth fell open. This was a banner day for the Smith family doing the unexpected.
And then she snorted. My mother actually snorted.
I burst out laughing, clapping my hands over my mouth as the dragonfly hummed happily. Laughing, Papa reached across the table and wrapped his enormous, rough hand over Mum’s and squeezed. Mum wiped at her eyes with her free hand and sniffed.
“It was the right thing for you, to go to that school,” Mum admitted, sipping her tea. “I know that now. I was the one who wanted to hide what you are, because it scared me. I was scared that I would lose you, if we told other people what you could do. I am sorry that I gave you the suppressors, that you were so sick for so long. I didn’t feel we had any choice.”
I nodded. “I… I understand, Mum. I do. I won’t say I’m happy about it, but if I had a child who was born with magical powers… No, I am sure I would handle it differently.”
“I know that,” Mum sighed.
“I could have been very tall,” I told her. “You’re practically giants, the both of you.”
She snorted again. And I grinned.
“Are they teaching you sassy-mouthing at that fancy school?” she asked.
“My personalized curriculum has an emphasis on sassy-mouthing.”
Papa snickered. “It’s good, that you come into a bit more of that. You’ll need that, if you’re going to find the other children like you. There have to be more out there.”
“Find them?” Mum asked. “How exactly is she going to do that?”
Papa shrugged. “Someone has to find them. Who knows where or how they’re living? Besides, Sarah needs to know how other children handle their magic. She can’t just leave them out there.”
Now, standing in the hothouse, feeding my carnivorous plant, I wondered if I could find the other Changelings or if that was just an insane idea. No one else even seemed to know they existed, except for my megalomaniacal former librarian. Where would I even start looking?
Miss Morton had been right about one thing amongst the many, many insane ideas that she’d gotten horribly wrong, the world had to change. I couldn’t sit, pampered and pretty, in the hallowed halls of Miss Castwell’s, grateful that I’d made it out of service. I wanted to find the other Changeling children. I wanted to help my fellow Snipes make their own way in the world. And with or without Mrs. Winter’s support – most likely without – I was going to have to do that from inside their circles.
I heard the door slide open behind me and a blast of cold air had me pulling the collar of my dress closer to my neck. Mrs. Winter was walking into the hothouse, a tray of tea floating behind her. “Feeling better?”
“Stronger every day,” I said, nodding. Mrs. Winter gestured for the tray to settle itself on the table next to me.
“Good, you’re going to need it over the next few years.”
I chuckled. “Years?”
“Yes, darling, years. We’re playing a long game here. You barely got through Mary’s rather ‘informative’ tantrum at the ball, and that solely by nature of your distracting the public with that little tiff with Miss Morton.”
“My friends and I disintegrated her with the power of our magic.”
“Which was a very tidy way to handle a considerable problem,” she said.
“You mean, the considerable problem of Miss Morton’s attempts to raise an army of the undead?”
“No, I meant the rumors surrounding your Snipe origins.”
“Of course,” I sighed. “That is obviously the priority.”
Mrs. Winter lifted an eyebrow and I added, “But who am I to tempt fate?”
“Well, honestly, most of my circle were leaping at the chance to restore the status quo,” Mrs. Winter sniffed. “Really, it might have been exciting for a few moments to gossip about a possible disturbance in my household, but they know what kind of power I wield. They don’t want to tangle with me long-term.”
And then she patted me on the head. Either Mrs. Winter was woefully under-estimating the zombie army threat, or she was trying to make me feel better through this show of bravado. I was not sure which option made me more uncomfortable.
“You have served your purpose, Cassandra,” she admitted. “You’ve accomplished more than I ever imagined possible. But you mustn’t rest on your laurels. You’re going to have to prove yourself, over and over, just to survive.”
“There’s a cheerful thought.”
“And on that note, the school opens for spring term tomorrow. Your trunks are being packed as we speak.”
“Saving the magical world doesn’t get me out of spring classes?”
“No, sadly, it does not.”
“How lovely,” I sighed.
Phillip darted away from the nearby lemon tree and landed on my shoulder, tittering happily as we walked back into the house. The doors of Raven’s Rest opened to me as if I were born
to it.
Discussion Questions
1. Did Sarah’s parents do the right thing in suppressing her magic? How else could they have protected her?
2. Sarah worries about her personal integrity after she arrives at Miss Castwell’s. Does she maintain that integrity? Or does she compromise too much?
3. How could Sarah have handled her problems with Callista differently?
4. Did Sarah trust Miss Morton too easily? What about Miss Morton’s personality drew Sarah in?
5. If you were going to belong to a Mother House, which would you choose?
About the Author
Molly Harper worked for six years as a reporter and humor columnist for The Paducah Sun. Her reporting duties included covering courts, school board meetings, quilt shows, and once, the arrest of a Florida man who faked his suicide by shark attack and spent the next few months tossing pies at a local pizzeria. Molly lives in western Kentucky with her family.
Be sure to check out https://www.misscastwells.com/ for more information on the Houses, when the next book in the Sorcery and Society series is coming out, and fun fan goodies.
Molly also writes adult paranormal romance, adult contemporary romance, and women’s fiction:
https://www.mollyharper.com/
Changeling (Sorcery and Society Book 1) Page 25
