by Nancy Warren
Once more Rafe opened the door up to the flat and I led the way, followed by Violet Weeks and her grandmother. I had no idea what they would say when they discovered Gran appeared to be alive but I figured they were witches; they could just get used to it. At least, with Gran present, they couldn't pretend to things she knew to be false.
I didn't bother warning Gran about our visitors any more than I bothered warning them about her. I merely got to the top of the stairs and led the way into the sitting room. I was pleased to see that in our absence Gran had made use of the cosmetics still in her bathroom, combed her hair, and slipped on one of the hand-knit sweaters that still hung in her closet.
Her eyes widened when she caught sight of our guests. She didn’t look pleased. "Lavinia! What are you doing here?"
Violet Weeks’s grandmother looked as startled as mine. "I might ask you the same question. You're supposed to be dead."
"You don't need to sound so happy about it. And I am dead."
Lavinia walked closer to my grandmother and sniffed the air. "A vampire. Didn't our mother teach you anything? What happened to your protection spells?"
My grandmother rose and put her hands on her hips. "And what happened to your manners? You know you're not welcome here."
Her sister crossed her arms and the two old witches faced each other. Lavinia said, "We find ourselves in an interesting dilemma. The grimoire was our mother's and belongs equally to our granddaughters."
Gran shook her head. "No, it doesn't. Mother handed it to me when you turned dark. Your own mother didn't trust you and I certainly don't."
There was some serious animosity in the room and Nyx circled around my ankles until I picked her up. I wasn't sure whether she was offering comfort or wanting it but I was happy to hold her in my arms. She didn't purr as she usually did when I picked her up. she held herself stiff, her ears pointing straight up and her eyes wide open. I felt at any moment she was ready to launch herself out of my arms and attack if necessary.
I really, really hoped it wouldn't be. I don't like conflict at the best of times, and Lavinia and Violet were the only living relatives I seemed to have in the UK. If there was a way to work out these old conflicts, I'd be happy to do so.
Gran said, "If you thought your granddaughter was entitled to the grimoire, why were you so intent on stealing it?"
Lavinia coloured slightly. "Perhaps that was beneath me. But Violet is the next generation of our family and she needs it for her education. I never saw any sign that your granddaughter had the gift."
Gran sniffed and looked unconvinced. We seemed to have reached a standoff. “I knew you were after it before I died, so I hid the book. After I was turned, I couldn’t remember where I put it.”
Lavinia looked genuinely concerned. She stepped forward, "Agnes, this can't be true. If that book fell into the wrong hands, if dark forces were unleashed, well, that's one of the reasons I wanted to safeguard it."
Gran glanced at me, looking triumphant. “Lucy found it. Without my help.”
She looked so relieved. And so did Lavinia. The cat jumped out of my arms and headed toward my bedroom, as though she were giving me permission to reveal the book to these rival witches. I followed and, tossing the extra bedding aside, retrieved the grimoire from my suitcase. I returned with the book and Gran said, "Oh, thank goodness you found it. Where was it?"
"You hid it well. It was next door with the Miss Watts."
She nodded, enthusiastic. "Yes. Now I remember. They never look in those crowded old bookshelves, so I just slipped the book up on top. I knew that no one would ever look for it there."
Lavinia nearly snatched the book out of my hands. She ran her fingers reverently over the old leather cover. "I remember how we used to giggle and fight as we tried to outdo each other with the spells," she said, her voice softening.
Gran stepped closer to her. "You usually caught on faster, which always annoyed me."
"You were younger. But once you mastered the spell, yours was usually the more powerful."
She turned the book over in her hands. "Violet's a good witch. I want her to learn from our ancestors. Read our history, and practice our ancient art."
Gran said, "And I want that for Lucy."
Lavinia looked from me to Gran. "How much practice has Lucy had? She's been living away from our people. Has she had a mentor? Is her mother a practicing witch?"
I had a sneaking feeling she already knew the answers to these questions and that only made her granddaughter seem like the proper recipient of the book. I waited. I knew something they didn't.
Inevitably, Lavinia tried to open the cover of the book. It resisted her efforts as easily as it had resisted mine. She frowned and sniffed. "This book is spellbound."
She turned to her sister and once again the antagonism crackled between them. "I demand that you open this book by removing the spell."
Gran shook her head. "When I was turned into a vampire, I lost a great deal of my memories and most of my power. I couldn't even remember where I hid the book, how on earth can I remember the spell I put upon it?"
Lavinia began smile. "That's how our mother decided between us, in the end. She put a spell on this very book and whoever could break that spell was destined to carry it with her for life."
"Exactly," Gran said.
Lavinia touched the book’s cover again. "It seems fitting then that our two granddaughters should be offered the same challenge. If one of these young witches can break the spell, then the book is meant for her."
But she wasn't throwing this idea out as a fair challenge between equals. Putting me up against Violet was like throwing a puny kid into the boxing ring with a heavyweight prize fighter.
I said, "But I didn't even know I was a witch until a few days ago. I have no training, I've never broken a spell in my life, I've never even set one. This is completely unfair."
I turned to Gran, who had settled herself on the couch and wore an inscrutable expression. I noticed then that the photo album was open on the table. It had been closed when I left this morning. Clearly, she had been looking at photographs of her past and, perhaps, the pictures of her and her sister as youngsters had softened her towards her old enemy.
I wasn't at all sure about these two, however. Violet had all but stepped over my corpse so anxious was she to get hold of that grimoire. Was this the kind of witch who should control the power held between those old leather covers?
Violet sent me a smug and superior glance that made me long to hit her. Lavinia said, "Nonsense. A witch’s power is inherent. You can learn a great deal from this book, but a witch with inborn power and a pure heart can certainly break another witch’s spell."
I did not believe her. I was positive that both she and her smug granddaughter considered this contest already won. I could picture them sitting cozily around their cauldron, no doubt making potions that would put warts on my face. I felt as sulky as Hester, especially when Gran didn't jump to my defence.
I wondered if, now that she was a vampire, she had forgotten her connection to my world, the world of humans and of witches.
I turned to Rafe. He was a sensible, intelligent vampire. Surely he could see what was going on here. "Rafe. Tell them this isn't fair. I need more time to prepare."
He shrugged his elegant shoulders. "I never get involved in witch matters."
I felt almost desperate. I wanted that grimoire. I wanted to learn how to be a powerful witch, to revere the earth, heal people, help the lovelorn find their mates and whatever else it was witches did. I wanted to help protect the innocent from evil. I said, "There must be some sort of witch government, who could oversee this."
In one voice my grandmother and my great-aunt cried, "No." Then they glanced at each other and Gran said, "There are, of course, governing bodies, but this is a family matter. This grimoire is an old and powerful book, and we do not want run-of-the-mill witches to know about it. Lucy, I'm sorry you haven't had more training, but remember everythi
ng I told you."
She looked at me then with her wise, old eyes and I realized that she still cared very much about me and my world. I felt a lightening around my heart as I realized that she believed in me. She thought, even without the years of training that Violet had no doubt undergone, that I had a shot at this.
Nyx was regarding me with equally clear, wise eyes. "All right," I said, resigned. "Tell me how this works?"
Lavinia said, "It's very simple. Each of you will try to break the spell. Whoever succeeds gets the book."
"And if neither of us can do it?"
The old witches glanced at each other. Lavinia said, "Then, I suppose, your grandmother and I will each take a turn and if neither of us can break the spell, the book will have to be destroyed."
"No!" Both Violet and I cried out.
Lavinia drilled us each with her gaze. "Then, one of you had better open this book."
We tossed a coin to decide who went first. It seemed very pedestrian, but I suppose it was as fair as any other method. Rafe was chosen as the coin tosser. Violet called heads and I took tails. He withdrew a twenty-pence piece from his pocket, showed it to all of us, and then flicked it up into the air. I don't know whether Violet or her grandmother cast a spell on the coin as it was flying up into the air, but it came down heads, which was what Violet had chosen.
Lavinia had all of us witches sit in a circle, the book in the center. Gran fetched candles and lit them. It felt both cozy, mysterious and mystical sitting in that circle with the candlelight flickering off that old magic book. I felt a shiver ran over my body and Nyx came and curled herself into my lap.
I felt the power of us four witches sitting in the circle. Rafe stood outside its light, since he was neither witch nor mortal.
“Should we join hands?" Lavinia asked, looking at Gran.
My grandmother seemed to debate then she said, "No. Let each witch’s magic remain with her.”
Lavinia nodded and then said to Violet, "Now, take your time. Focus. Blessed be."
If Violet was nervous she certainly didn't show it. There was a serenity, and a confidence to her as she closed her eyes and reached her two hands out towards the book. She said,
Gift of the protector I return to thee,
Let this book opened be.
I think we all held our breath, and then Violet leaned forward onto her hands and knees, and reached for the book. She placed her hand on it and lifted the cover. The entire book lifted, the pages as stuck together as though it were a sculpture of a book and not the real thing.
"Wait," Violet said. "I didn't concentrate properly. Let me try again."
"It's Lucy's turn, now," Gran said.
"But she’ll copy me, and it's not fair. She doesn't even know how to break a spell."
I felt Nyx's warm body against mine. She was purring, so softly only I could hear her, more vibration than noise. Gran’s gaze was steady on me. Nobody had to tell me that it would be foolish to copy Violet's attempt, which hadn't even worked.
I closed my eyes and went down into myself. I saw myself in the knitting shop with Gran, the balls of wool dancing around under my spell. I pictured myself fighting off a killer earlier today, and that sense of power I'd felt. I would use my power for good, I promised. I felt open and ready for whatever lay ahead. I was part of the earth and nature, not a creator of power, but its conduit. I said,
Magic grimoire, if I am meant to be the next in line,
Then open your heart as I open mine.
I opened my eyes then, feeling a little foolish at my extemporaneous and very simple rhyme. I hadn't intended them, the words had simply come out of me. I pictured the book opening and revealing its pages to me and as I leaned forward, golden light began to spill from within as the book opened of its own accord, to a page covered with symbols and faded words.
"She did it," Lavinia said softly, sounding amazed. "Lucy, it's your turn to carry the grimoire. Use it wisely, my dear, and let us help you as we can."
Then she rose and said, "Come along, Violet. It’s time for us to go."
Violet didn’t even argue. She nodded and rose to her feet. “Good luck, Lucy. Blessed be.”
"Wait," I said. "You're my family. I think it's time we got to know each other. I've got an attic full of photographs from when you, Aunt Lavinia, and Gran, were young.” I put my hands on my hips. “I've also got the phone number of a local pizza place. The grocer’s still open and they sell wine. Please, stay, let me get to know you."
Lavinia looked to Gran. "Agnes?"
I watched the two sisters staring warily at each other. Finally my grandmother said, "Two generations have passed. Maybe it's time to heal old wounds."
Lavinia turned to me with a wry smile on her face. "I think, young lady, you've already shown yourself to be a very promising witch."
Violet rolled her eyes., "Please use your powers to order some pizza. I'm starving. And, since you get the grimoire, you're buying."
I laughed, and lifted Nyx from my lap so I could go and get my mobile. "I'm on it."
I’d arrived in Oxford lost and broken-hearted, hoping Gran could give me a shoulder to cry on and a quiet place to heal. In the short time I’d been here, I’d helped solve three murders, though officially only two, made friends with both living and undead, discovered I was a witch, and even found a second family.
I couldn’t imagine another week to rival this one.
Nyx made a noise as though she was coughing up a fur ball and silver and gold sparks sprayed out of her mouth.
Oh, yeah. And, I got adopted by the most amazing, magical cat ever.
IF YOU ENJOYED The Vampire Knitting Club, be sure to check out Stitches and Witches, Vampire Knitting Club Book 2
Here’s a sneak peek:
The gentleman who walked into Cardinal Woolsey's knitting shop that late October morning reminded me of a character actor. Not one you can immediately put a name to, but one who plays generals and titled English gentlemen. He’d have had bit parts in Downton Abbey and Jane Austen adaptations with his white, wavy hair, perfectly trimmed moustache and twinkling blue eyes. He was tanned as though he’d spent the last few months in the south of France. He wore a tweed sports jacket, gray flannels and sported a silk cravat around his neck
My first impression of him was that he was quite tall, but when I looked again I realized it was his upright bearing that made him seem taller than he was. The term larger-than-life went through my head. He didn't appear to be a knitter but, as I’d discovered through running Cardinal Woolsey's for the last few months, knitters came in all shapes and sizes, ages and sexes.
Some were even vampires.
"Good morning," I said, stepping out from behind the counter.
When he saw me, his face lit up as though we were old friends, even though I was certain I’d never seen him before. His teeth were quite large, white and straight. "Good morning," he replied. “And it's a good morning indeed when I’m greeted by a beautiful young woman."
He said the words in a casual way as though he paid extravagant compliments to every woman —young or old, pretty or plain. I was about to ask him if he was handy with the needles, when he said, "I've come to throw myself on your mercy."
I blinked at the choice of words and then from the twinkle in his eye realized he wasn’t serious.
He took a deep breath. "It’s about a woman who used to live next door at the Elderflower Tea Shop. Her name was Florence Watt."
I sensed intrigue. Florence and Mary Watt were spinster sisters who had been running Elderflower Tea Shop next door for a long time, probably since tea first came to England. I got the feeling this man had known Florence many years ago. Did he think perhaps she had married and changed her name?"
I put him out of his misery. "Miss Watt is still next door. She and her sister Mary run the tea shop."
He put a hand to his heart. "And is it possible that Miss Florence Watt is unattached?"
It was strange to think of either of the Miss
Watts as having a romantic life and yet, it seemed at one time there must've been one. I tried not to look nosy but I don’t think I succeeded.
"You’ve guessed it, of course. I loved Florence fifty-five years ago and I've never been able to forget her."
I’d read of such cases. High school sweethearts who reunited in their golden years, couples who’d been kept apart by circumstance and got together late in life. I was excited to play even a small role in a golden age romance.
Even though it was difficult to imagine the practical and efficient Florence Watt as a young woman in love, I was a romantic at heart and wanted to think she might still find love.
I was curious, and he seemed eager to talk about his affairs. Since it was a quiet morning in the shop, I’d be quite happy to put off doing inventory for another few minutes. "You must have been very young.”
He nodded, and gazed in the direction of the tea shop. “Hardly more than a boy. But there was something about Florence that I had never seen in another girl. We fell in love, and I believed I’d found the woman I would spend the rest of my life with.” He shook his head, sadly. “But, I was unfortunately called away.” He lowered his voice and made certain we were alone. “The official secrets act makes it impossible to say more.”
Naturally, I was intrigued. The official secrets act? Was he a spy? Even spooks must get pensioned off at some point. Shouldn’t he have retired some years ago? “Have you been living the secret life all this time?”
He smiled, revealing those wonderful teeth again. “No. Life intruded and I found myself married and living a very different life. But I never forgot Florence. And now, my wife has passed away, and I wondered if it was possible that Florence still remembered me as I remember her.”
It was a very romantic story and the man in front of me glanced quickly at my face as though checking that I, too, was swept away by stirring emotions. In fact, I was that most delightful British word, ‘gobsmacked.’ The Watt sisters were spinsters of indeterminate age. It was easy to imagine they’d sprung fully formed from tea balls and spent their entire lives serving up raisin scones and crustless sandwiches in our little corner of Oxford. To think of either of them having a date, never mind a man carrying the torch for them, was almost more than I could take in.
