A Wild Conversion

by Katherine Gilbert

  There was a profound silence for several long seconds. “She’ll be diminished,” Nat gulped at last. But they were words her partner could only half-comprehend.

  It was then Emma finally pulled herself together enough to break in, sitting up, a little wobbly. “It was my decision, Nat.” She was braced against her friend’s leg, both Natalie’s and Frederick’s hands on her back. “I was accepting the inevitable—and claiming what I wanted.”

  She knew that this last fact pleased the man beside her. Drawing her hand close to turn her toward him, he got her attention. “I’m sorry. If I hadn’t allowed that darkness inside me . . .”

  Shaking her head slightly, even if it did make the room spin, she wouldn’t let him blame himself. “No. I don’t regret it.”

  Her hand held his tightly.

  “Hecate doesn’t make mistakes. You were brought here today—I was able to meet you—for a reason.”

  Her smile was soft, and she was warmed by feeling his love flowing through her.

  “Whatever happens from here on, we need to face it together.”

  This said nothing of the woman whom she’d faced everything with up to now, Natalie’s hand soft on her shoulder. “Em.”

  She looked back toward her and could feel that it wasn’t a fear of losing her friendship which plagued Natalie but the terror that a converting sorcerer—who was now tied inextricably to the wild conversion of a man who was both a sorcerer and a seer—might not make it through to enjoy her fully-converted state.

  As all of this was only too true, though, Emma wasn’t certain how to comfort her.

  Instead, it was her partner who broke in, clearly needing to know the rest. “What happens to you, if I don’t survive? What can I do to protect you?”

  The various, desperate plans he was pondering swirled so loudly in his mind, and she knew how deadly they would be for them both.

  Her eyes undoubtedly flashing and causing a lightning storm through her irises, she held his hand close. “First, don’t even think about trying to unpartner from me, because I won’t let you leave me out of fear.”

  Seeing his smile, she could sense his soul-deep arousal, made all the plainer when he pulled her to him to kiss for one long, sweet moment. It was lovely, even if her grandfather was chuckling in the background. When she pulled back, her look grew more serious.

  “We can survive together or die apart.”

  The latter might or might not be literal, but, if she lost him, there would be a part of her gone for good. Fingers entwining, she smiled at him.

  “I’d rather it be together.”

  Much too briefly, he kissed her once more in agreement, and she felt Natalie’s roiling emotions through their bond—knew she too was trying to push aside her fears, saw her struggle. She heard her long sigh, before she spoke.

  “Well, if Em’s determined to partner herself with a wildly-converting seer, I guess I have to deal with you, too.”

  Turning, she saw the woman smiling, heard her grandfather chuckling again. When she gazed at him curiously, he shrugged.

  “It’s always better to get feelings out in the open. Otherwise, they fester.” He looked the three of them over proudly, his remaining cats staring at them, tails twitching in time. “Now, what do we do about all this?”

  Emma smiled. The sight of that realm of universal creation had somehow cleared her thoughts. Well, after making her pass out from overawe, at least.

  Now, she had a plan of sorts, but it wasn’t ready for airing. They needed more information first. Looking over her friend and her partner, she just hoped that all of them would have the courage to see it through.

  Ten minutes later, she started to act on it, temporarily leaving her partner and grandfather behind to run briskly through the twilight with Nat beside her. While she desperately wanted Frederick with her, she couldn’t leave all those in her home unprotected—and he was the only one other than herself with something like enough power to look after them.

  Leaving her mental links wide open to him, then, and monitoring in case either Hester or her co-conspirators made any moves in her absence, she had her arm around Natalie, as she moved them speedily through the town. As much as she might wish for the brevity of taking a portal, she wasn’t willing to risk it. Their current destination was a dangerous one, and she didn’t want to open any links between it and her own home which might be used against them.

  It was within record time, then, that she made it from her house, down the roads, through the main street, and into the country beyond where she found the double doors into Philbert Spear’s living room open.

  Her sudden appearance surprised even that cagey old man, but he hid it well, leaning back in a chair, book in hand, to stare at her. “Ah, Goodwinter Distaff,” he nodded. “And your little friend.”

  His creepy smile increased, as he put down the book, and Emma had to repress a shudder at the thought of anyone—especially sweet little Jenny—being partnered with such a man.

  “To what do I owe such a delightful home invasion?”

  Emma’s hand held her friend’s, drawing the strength not to attack this man. Perhaps such a thing might be necessary yet, but now was not the moment.

  Returning his challenge, her stare was hard. “You said I should come ask my questions directly. I took that as an invitation.”

  There was a second of apparent uncertainty, but his intense stare did dissolve into a laugh. “Of course you would. It’s only too bad you didn’t bring any of your visitors.” That disconcerting smile came back fully. “I enjoy having guests.”

  Changing the subject, she feared the truth of such a statement far too much. “I have a guest of my own, as I’m sure you know, although, thanks to you, your partner is not in very good shape.”

  If only for an instant, this clearly got his full attention, his calm demeanor shed, as he seemed ready to spring out of the chair onto her. “If you’ve done something to Jen . . .”

  The moment was over a second later, as he clearly willed himself to lean back again—but his smile this time was forced.

  “I take it she’s sleeping rather a lot.”

  Now, that was interesting. The break might have been calculated, of course, but, in all her experience with the man, Philbert rarely bothered to put on any kind of front for others. He just said whatever despicable things were on his mind in the most forthright way imaginable, convinced that those who would disagree didn’t matter enough to worry about.

  Beginning to realize what instinct had drawn her here, she stepped only a little closer. “I believe she’d prefer to be looking after your child.”

  It was there for just an instant—a look of both anguish and rage, his fingers visibly tightening on the velvet-cushioned arm of his chair. Still, the smile returned quickly, even if she was now detecting just how forced it might be.

  “Hester is looking after my daughter. Given that she’s converting, having the whole Everly brood around to watch after her makes my part in her care far easier.”

  Those were his words. Again, for a moment, his eyes said something very different.

  Emma needed to get away from here soon, or she feared she might not escape at all. Still, she was certain these were the last few pieces she needed for her puzzle.

  “I hear you’re looking after one of the train passengers. I believe she’s another woman who’s missing a daughter.”

  Watching with these new insights, she saw his anger clearly this time, although she was beginning to wonder where it was aimed. “I turned her over to Randolph, actually. He seems to have some previous knowledge of her.”

  The signs of his rage only went away with an obvious effort.

  “She’s not any of my concern.” His smile spread. “Although I’m sorry you didn’t bring the little luck witch with you.”

  This, she suspected, was all she was going to get today, so she started to back both herself and Natalie toward the door.

  Unfortunately, she didn’t manage t
his before the man had a visitor whose voice announced her first. “Philbert Spear, I’m sorry to intrude. Randolph wants to . . .”

  Randolph Spear’s partner paused as she entered, and both Emma and Natalie took in the same breath. Knowing what she did now, the sight of the woman was nearly painful, even more so as she saw that constant, only mildly muted look of terror which lit her light green eyes.

  So this was her mother—Lily. Now that she knew, she could see certain details she recognized from her own mirror—the same nose, the same chin, the same slight wave to her hair, even if Lily’s was much lighter, a kind of brownish-blonde.

  Her rage boiled. And she had apparently been given to Randolph Spear as a gift.

  The thought flashed through her that this was odd, however. The little Salem conspiracy she and her friend and partner had stumbled onto over this past day seemed to be entirely about “breeding power”—and, at least as far as she knew, Randolph had no children he had kept. Not even her.

  It was with this notion that she held Natalie’s hand hard and started to run for the door. Night had fallen when she wasn’t looking, and her fears for what these people planned still were raw. Besides, wherever Lily went, her partner was sure to know all that she encountered—and Emma didn’t wish to be under her father’s gaze if she could help it.

  This fact was still a terrible one, but she had no time to process it, had to get back to her house, to those she protected.

  Unfortunately, Philbert clearly saw her intention, held out a hand—and then the simple doorway to Salem turned into a portal to nowhere.

  Chapter 16

  Frederick

  The day was becoming more discouraging both inside Emma’s house and out.

  Pacing, Frederick’s fears threatened to overwhelm him as soon as his beloved left. It took nearly everything to try to push the emotion away into another realm, as he knew he needed to keep such feelings out of his conversion.

  Benjamin watched quietly, what seemed to be his favorite cat purring softly on his lap, as he stroked it. “She’ll be back soon, you know. She’s not going to leave us unprotected for any longer than she has to.”

  In many ways, Frederick was aware of this, knew that confronting William—or Philbert, or whatever his name might actually be—was probably the only way they could hope to find any real information. While it was unlikely that the man would just confess his and Hester’s plans to them, speaking to him was about their only option. They certainly weren’t likely to get anything out of any of the other conspirators until they were finally ready to strike.

  Even though he didn’t wish to be rude, he didn’t respond with anything besides a nod. Having been left with the daunting challenge of looking after this house and everyone within it, the fact that he had little to no conscious idea of where to begin was only one of many worries which preoccupied him now.

  He was reminded of his Aunt Penelope’s strange warning through the water link earlier to “listen to your three teachers,” when Benjamin began again, more helpfully this time. “I know this is probably difficult for you.”

  The man was still stroking the cat, as Frederick paced.

  “Focus on your path, on what you need to be true. Your magic is like a magnet. It will pull you toward it.”

  Frederick finally stopped walking to look at the man, listening.

  “Everyone feels their magic in a different way, but I know you understand yours. Just focus on the truth of it, and it will show you what you need to know.”

  Frederick did feel this, as amorphous as these instructions were, and, when he followed them, he finally noticed something else.

  “You’re not worried about me going mad or dragging Emma off into some kind of half-death with me, are you?”

  Staring into the man, who was smiling, he could see the truth in his eyes.

  “You believe I’ll take the right path, in the end.”

  The man was still smiling, but there was a bit of ruefulness at its edges. His shrug made the cat flick its ear. “Well, I do, assuming that any of us gets out of this alive. With Hester, you never know.”

  Knowing there was nothing to be done about this yet, Frederick calmed himself enough to sit on the couch, looking at his companion for a minute or so. There were many things he wanted to ask, so much about this new life he didn’t yet understand, but only one question seemed particularly important. Benjamin had known Hester—and the rest of her conspirators—longer than had any of the rest of them had been alive.

  “Can you understand any of my great-aunt’s plans?”

  Shrugging at the man’s curious stare, he tried to piece together what he was asking.

  “Is there anything you can remember of the past which can explain all this?”

  Leaning back in the chair, Benjamin sighed, and the cat seemed to follow his move, stretching out further on his lap, one paw extended.

  “I think I mostly tried to ignore Hester when I was younger. I was always focused on Pen.”

  The cat seemed to pick up on his sadness, stared over its shoulder at him, before it began batting softly at one of his hands. Benjamin smiled, pulling himself back.

  “Still, even then Hester had this obsession with . . . what was it she called it? . . . ‘concentrating magic’?”

  His eyes stared into the past, before he shook his head.

  “She seemed to feel that, without help, magical ability was too random. One family member got a ton of it, while another got next to nothing.” He shrugged. “Maybe she just decided to act on ‘purifying’ it into whatever she’s doing this for.”

  This latter idea made Frederick shiver slightly, although such ideas about breeding weren’t wholly unknown—or at all disrespected—in his time. Although he didn’t know the term “purify the race,” or the genocides it had led to, some inner sense of right—and sanity—rebelled.

  Besides, the fact that abilities were randomly distributed among families was all too obvious. It was simply part of the variety of life. Everyone was suited for something. It didn’t have to be the same things the parents were skilled with—although this had never been a popular notion.

  “Yet it doesn’t even seem to have worked, in her opinion,” he noted.

  Benjamin stared at him, and he felt a little sad to bring up facts which would hurt the man. He started with his own family.

  “I have several cousins she apparently thought next to nothing of, and I really don’t believe any of them have any magical abilities.”

  Looking at Benjamin cautiously, not wanting to return him to the misery he had been in earlier, Frederick went on. “She—or Randolph—rejected Emma, as well.”

  His rage at such foolishness flashed through him and undoubtedly took on deeper sparks in his eyes, before he forced himself to focus.

  “Does that man have any other children?”

  And, if he didn’t, why keep Emma’s mother? As a prize?

  Benjamin let out a profound sigh but seemed to hold himself firm. “Whatever it is that Hester’s going for, it’s not just power. Emma’s powerful. So’s Penelope.” His eyes were burning. “I think she’s looking for a strong type of magic which is still easy to control.”

  Frederick was lost. “Does that exist?”

  The other man nodded. “In plenty of ways. Personal appeal magic—I think the mundane world just calls it ‘charisma’—is plenty easy to order around. So’s elemental magic—the ability to do with nature what you will. One of your uncle’s an arbor witch—he’s got plenty of that, and he’s still under Hester’s thumb. Then there’s poor little luck witches.”

  He shrugged, but it seemed to hide a shudder.

  “Of course, that’s all to do with the individual witch, too, but still . . .”

  Trailing off, he sighed.

  “There are only a few types which aren’t as easy, like protection or education magic. I think Penelope has the latter, given what you’ve said about the school she runs. Those types don’t like to see people hur
t—and hurting people is what controlling them’s all about.”

  His listener had never quite thought of the world in such terms—and only partly because he hadn’t heard of real magic until this morning. Still, he supposed it made sense, but it also left him with a question he hated to put forth.

  His voice soft, he tried to approach cautiously, like one of Benjamin’s cats. The man had avoided the topic before. “What about . . .”

  Pausing for a second, he watched Benjamin cautiously.

  “. . . Lily?”

  He watched Benjamin shudder, saw the cat sink in its claws, and another soon arrived to rub against his legs.

  “Does she have other children?”

  Did Emma have siblings?

  It took the poor man a second to answer—and, even then, it was only after yet another cat came in, rubbing his cheek against him, and sitting on his foot. “Not that I know of,” he finally managed hoarsely.

  Frederick’s sigh was quiet. He hated torturing Benjamin but felt certain that knowing would get them one step closer to the information they needed to have to survive.

  “Why keep her then?”

  Benjamin’s eyes burned, but his visitor’s look was gentle.

  “If they’re simply interested in ‘breeding power,’ why not move on to someone else?”

  It wasn’t that divorce had been acceptable—or even, in many places, at all available—in his era, but Frederick saw more and more that their world was not his, and Emma had mentioned “unpartnering.”

  It took Benjamin a minute, but he acknowledged the query at last, shutting his eyes. “Maybe she’s just a prize.” He couldn’t seem to open them again.

  Another cat came to join him, before he went on.

  “Hester’s always liked to win.”

  Certainly, all Frederick’s memories of the woman backed this idea up. Still, something the man had recently said bothered him.

  “Is it possible that Lily has a type of magic that is easier to control?”

  It would make sense of why Randolph might keep her, even if it had been decided that she wasn’t worthy of being bred. There must be some reason he hadn’t just turned into another Henry VIII.