by Lisa Plumley
Shouldering her backpack, she headed past the library’s seasonal display of carved jack-o’-lanterns, Indian corn, and sheaves of wheat. She passed a rack of colorful brochures for the canyon and other tourist attractions. She skirted a table occupied by an elderly warlock who was surreptitiously watching a memory flicker from behind an open newspaper, then approached the card catalog. It was a relic from her first visits to the library, but it was clearly still in use. Dayna scanned the rows of neatly labeled drawers. She focused on one. Open.
Nothing happened. Hmm. Disappointed, Dayna tried again.
The drawer remained stubbornly shut. So much for her revitalized magic. Evidently it was still on the balky side.
Well, that was to be expected. Rome wasn’t built in a day. Her magical abilities probably wouldn’t be reinvigorated in a day—or three—either, despite her unprecedented successes this morning. She would need to concentrate harder. Or access the information the traditional way.
Deciding efficiency trumped magical acumen, Dayna frowned at her formerly magical backpack. She slung it to the floor.
“Thanks for nothing. And after that showoff move at the apartment this morning, too,” she grumbled. “Sliding across the floor. Shooting out my pencil case. Being all magic-y. Admit it. You’re just messing with me now, aren’t you?”
“I hope you’re not expecting an answer.”
At the sound of that familiar voice, Dayna turned. “Mom!”
Margo Sterling stood behind her, dressed in the gauzy tunic, flowy pants, and flat leather sandals that were all the rage among the fashionably bohemian midlife residents of Covenhaven. A squash blossom necklace hung in showy turquoise around her neck. Above that, her face beamed, clean-scrubbed except for its signature embellishment of bright lipstick.
“I was wondering when you’d get around to visiting.”
“Well, wonder no further. Here I am!” Filled with a sense of homecoming at last, Dayna hugged her. Her mother felt delicate but strong in her arms, her slender figure shaped by daily yoga practice and probably a few witchy enhancements. “I’m sorry I didn’t come to the house sooner. It’s been crazy.”
“I imagine.” After a final tight squeeze, Margo released her. “Your father and I heard about the cusping-witch program. If I’d known all it would take to make you come back to town for a visit was an official IAB ruling and an armed agency tracer to drag you here, I’d have started a petition years ago.”
“Very funny.” Feeling guilty for having avoided her parents over the past two days, Dayna held her mother at arm’s length. She didn’t know now why she’d waited. She clasped her mother’s hand. Margo’s hair was entirely white now, curling around her head in disorderly ringlets. “You look great! I love your hair.”
“Oh this?” Her mother tossed her head with a girlish smile. “Just a little magical touchup to make the white sparkle.”
“Well, it suits you. I’ll bet Dad loves it.”
“He does. And your new aura suits you, too.” Giving Dayna the kind of knowing look only a mother could, Margo leaned her shoulder against the card catalog. She crossed her arms and raised her brows. “Is there something you want to tell me?”
“Tell you? I don’t know what you mean.”
Her mother’s smile wavered. Her expression lost a fraction of its lightness. Her eyes were still the same bright blue that matched Dayna’s, but all of a sudden Margo looked…troubled.
“Do you mean about why I’m in town?” Dayna pressed. “You know it’s because of the cusping-witch training. We just—”
“Not that. Your aura.” Her mother gave her a penetrating look. “Are you seriously going to stand there and deny what I can see with my own eyes? Please, Dayna. I thought we got past the pants-on-fire stage when you were a teenager.”
Ha. If her mother only knew how prescient that was.
“Mom—” Hardly knowing what to say, Dayna frowned. “I’m not trying to bluff my way past anything. I seriously don’t know anything about my aura.” She lifted her arm, trying to see it.
Her mother’s gaze swerved to her golden armband. “It’s especially strong there. Where did you get that?”
“It’s a gift from someone I’m seeing. It’s—he’s—it’s not important.” If she mentioned the bonding thing with T.J., her mother might misunderstand its implications. It wasn’t as though Dayna meant to stay with T.J. forever. But Margo was a trained witchstorical archivist. She would undoubtedly know exactly what it meant to be bonded. Besides, there was still the issue of Dayna’s apparent aura to consider. Frowning, she stared at her other arm. Then her torso and legs. They looked unchanged. “Are you saying I have a visible aura? I never have before.”
“I know.” Now Margo seemed downright spooked. “It’s probably nothing. A trick of the light, maybe. I’m sorry I said anything.” She gave Dayna a reassuring squeeze. “I just thought that if you had an aura so strong and the magic to emit it, you would feel that magic, too. You would see it, like I can.”
Right. Because both her parents were perfectly adept at magic. That was why everyone—their friends and relatives—had been so baffled when they’d spawned a witchy washout like Dayna.
Her mother examined her further. A crease appeared between her brows, stealing attention from her trademark lipstick. Her expression grew even graver. She lowered her hand.
“Mom! You’re freaking me out. Stop looking at me that way.”
Margo blinked. Her expression eased. “What way?”
“As though I’m some kind of—” Freak, her ever-helpful brain supplied. Dayna ignored it. “As though you’re worried about me.” She offered her mother an unsteady smile, wishing she possessed a fraction of T.J.’s charisma or Deuce’s easygoing charm. “I promise, your days of worrying about me are over with.”
“Humph. I see.” Her mother’s gaze swept over her human-made jeans and T-shirt, settled on her Converse sneakers, then lifted. “Then you’re happy living with all those humans?”
Here we go. “They’re not ‘those humans,’ Mom. They’re my friends. You met Jill. She’s wonderful! And my neighbors are—”
“No, we don’t need to go there again. I’m happy if you’re happy.” Her mother gave her a suspicious once-over that didn’t exactly jibe with her statement. And her smile looked all weird again, too. There was definitely something going on here. “I’ve just…never seen you with an aura. Especially one like that.”
Feeling doubly self-conscious, Dayna turned around. She felt ridiculous the moment she did it. Did she seriously think she could catch her aura unaware by sneaking up on it?
But still…“What does it look like?”
Her mother gave her a long look. “Oh, Dayna. I don’t…”
She trailed off, then offered a compensatory smile. But her sorrowful tone said it all. I don’t think you should hope again.
“I don’t think we should put ourselves through all that again, do you?” Margo asked brightly. “Maybe your IAB training has sparked something. Something temporary. I wouldn’t put too much stock in it. You can never tell with cusping.”
“Professor Reynolds says cusping can be unpredictable.”
“Especially in a group like yours. Did you know this is the largest generation of cusping witches ever? Over a thousand strong. No wonder the IAB had to step in and help.”
“Yes, they’re very efficient.” Struggling not to show how much it hurt that she had—once again—disappointed her mother with her lack of magical acumen, Dayna seized on the change of topic. “So…How was your cusping, Mom?”
“Crazy. Are you kidding me? Your father barely survived. The moods, the magical seductions, the nonstop sex. You know, we broke so much furniture, we had to start doing it on the floor.”
“Mom!”
“His back got thrown completely out of whack. I didn’t even have the magic to fix it. My own coven advisor couldn’t help either. Eventually we wound up going to a Patayan magus—”
“I don’t
want to hear this.”
“—who gave us a healing potion that worked wonders.” Lost in a daydream, Margo smiled fondly. “Of course, it was a topical potion. And your father couldn’t reach his own back, you see. So I had to rub it on. And wouldn’t you know it? One thing typically led to another, and we’d find ourselves on the floor again.” Her eyes sparkled. “I loved my cusping years.”
“Thanks. But a play-by-play of your love life with Dad isn’t quite what I had in mind.” Dayna leaned nearer. “What about your cusping magic? Did it ever…malfunction?”
“Did yours?”
“I asked you first.”
“What exactly has been happening to you?” Margo narrowed her eyes, making Dayna remember where she’d learned a few of her prized analytical skills. It was because of Margo that Dayna had spent so much time in libraries at all. “Be straight with me, Dayna. Are you having trouble with your magic again? Tell me.”
This was a conversation Dayna really didn’t want to have. She’d spent enough years disappointing her parents with her inability to master even the simplest of spells. They’d always stuck by her, that was true. But that was no reason to confide her latest problems—like her disastrous rainstorm before leaving Phoenix, her boomerang ugliness hex, her inexplicable pants-on-fire incident and the resulting showdown with the cottonseed vortex…The hits just kept coming. Or not.
Too bad there was only one public library in Covenhaven. Otherwise, Dayna might have avoided this talk with her mother altogether. She was happy to see her mom. But she would have been even happier to sneak into the stacks, extract the books and information she needed, then visit her parents later. On neutral ground. When she was better prepared for a Q&A session.
When she wasn’t (apparently) sporting a tell-all aura.
What did her aura mean, anyway? Did it have something to do with her recharged magic? With T.J.? With their bond?
He hadn’t exactly seemed psyched about making their bond complete this morning. But Dayna felt more sanguine. There was no way the coven elders had created a system where one witch would be bonded to one warlock (or Patayan) forever. It would be unnatural. No matter how in sync she and T.J. were, Dayna knew things were temporary between them. They had to be. Surely when it came time for her to return to her real life in Phoenix, it would be possible for them to get an official witchfolk separation—one that would end their bond without soul damage.
There had to be. Otherwise, she’d done something awful to T.J. by jumping him and having her way with him—however mind-blowing the experience had been for her. Dayna bit her lip, suddenly concerned that she might have damaged T.J. with sex.
With shuddering, hot, sexy, screaming, amazing…
“Well, you don’t look bothered by your cusping, whatever has been going on to prompt all these questions.” Her mother’s voice intruded on her thoughts, hauling her back to the present—to the library, the card catalog, and Margo Sterling’s newly cheerful expression. “So I guess you’re doing fine?”
“Yes, Mom. I’m doing fine,” Dayna reported. “I’m eating well, I’m making progress at work, I’m avoiding caffeine—”
“Don’t even joke about that!”
“—and I’m planning to ace cusping-witch class, too, just as soon as I get some more information.” Intending to get started, Dayna turned to the card catalog again. “Any hints on finding a magical cheat sheet? I can use all the help I can get.”
“I will not help you cheat, young lady.”
“All right then. Just tell me if it’s possible to cheat.”
“No.”
“No, it’s not possible? Or no, you won’t tell me?”
Silence. Still wearing a lighthearted smile, Dayna glanced at her mother. Margo appeared more worried than ever.
“Hey, I’m only kidding.” Dayna nudged her, hoping to cheer her up. It was probably a bummer when your only daughter was an embarrassment in the magical accomplishments department. Still joking, she said, “You don’t have to help me cheat. I’ll do it on my own. You won’t be implicated at all.”
She turned back to the catalog. As though she’d commanded it—and maybe she had, Dayna realized—it flipped open to the section on rudimentary magic. Of course, those cards were disguised as information on New Age philosophy, but still—that was an encouraging sign. All she needed now were a few primers on the skills she’d missed as a teenager—an accelerated study course to help her meet the likes of Francesca and her buddies on equal footing. Or at least on less unequal footing.
Drawing in a deep breath, Dayna placed her hand an inch or so above the cards. After glancing around to make sure no nosy tourists were watching, she muttered a charm. One by one, her selected cards rose from the catalog. She scanned them, pinched a few between her thumb and forefinger to mark them with her identity, then set them free. Like a flock of papery birds, they raced to the ceiling, then whisked themselves into the stacks.
Beside her, her mother gasped.
Finally! She’d done it. She’d made Margo proud. All she’d needed was the same mastery of magic an able second-grader had.
Cheerfully, Dayna glanced sideways. “See? I’m not so—”
Hopeless, she meant to say. But the word died in her throat. Her mother wasn’t staring in awe at Dayna’s use of minor magic. She was staring at Dayna—specifically, at an area about four inches away from her body—with a revelatory expression that could not bode well.
“I’ve got it!” Margo said. “You’ve connected with someone!”
Connected. Oh God. There was nothing quite so embarrassing as having your mother pinpoint your AM booty call with a hot warlock. Instantly, Dayna went on the offensive. She was trying to turn over a new leaf, magic-wise, but she wasn’t that strong.
“What? That’s crazy. You can’t possibly see something like that. It’s personal. It’s—it’s crazy, that’s all. Just crazy.”
Wow. Brilliant. Way to go, genius. That wouldn’t throw her mother off the trail at all. As predicted, it didn’t.
Margo shook her head. “Nope. I’m not crazy. I’m right. I’ve been racking my brain, trying to figure out where I’ve seen an image of an aura like yours. It’s very unusual. All this time, I’d figured you’d simply mangled yours somehow—”
“Gee, Mom. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”
“—but I just remembered. It was from a very old memory flicker. It may have been based on a legend. I’m not sure about that part.” Margo squinted, plainly trying to recall the details. “But it was definitely about witchfolk connectedness. It was a sign of a deep lifepair, an enduring union that—”
“Hang on. Before you go all voodoo with this, this is me, remember? The original loner from Toad Croak Lane. I seriously doubt I’m sporting the mark of a big-time joiner who has a lifelong connection with someone. If that kind of sentimental aura got near me, it would bounce right off again.”
Her mother gave her a dubious look. Whatever she saw in Dayna’s face made her relent. “Well, yours is a slightly deeper color than the one I remember seeing,” she admitted with a studious frown. “It’s a different, distinctive shape, too.”
“See? Whatever you see”—and Dayna was still irked that she couldn’t see it herself—“it’s probably perfectly normal. Maybe it’s a holdover from cusping-witch class last night.”
“Well…Maybe you’re right. Speaking of that, did you have a nice time?” Just like that, the witchstory archivist vanished. Motherly Margo stood in her place. “Did you reconnect with some of your old classmates? Your father and I saw Camille Levy a few days ago. She was so excited at the thought of seeing you again.”
At the memory of last night’s class, a palpable sense of dread washed over Dayna. She didn’t have much time to lose, it occurred to her. In just a few hours, she’d be back there again, revisiting the failures of her past. She had to get busy.
“Yes, I saw Camille, and that was great. But actually, Mom, I’ve got to get going.” Dayna leaned side
ways. Several of her chosen cards from the catalog hovered dutifully between bookshelves, waiting to show her where to find the items she needed. “I have a lot of, um, homework to do before tonight’s class.”
“All right. No more of that cheating talk, though, you hear? After all, there are more important things in life—”
“—than being good with magic,” Dayna repeated for what had to be the millionth time. That exhortation had been a popular refrain in her household. “I know. All I’m trying to do is get good enough to be licensed, so I can go back to Phoenix.”
Her mother leaped on that. “You’re going back? When?”
“After the graduation ceremony.” At the eager tone in Margo’s voice, Dayna frowned. Did her mother want her to leave earlier? That hurt. “The day after Samhain, I guess. DRL won’t let me take an indefinite leave. It was tricky enough explaining to Jane why I needed time off on such short notice.”
Her mother’s eyebrows drew together. She glanced around the nearly deserted library as though making sure no one was watching them. Or listening to them. Or connecting them to the same gene pool. Her behavior was downright crushing.
“Mom? You and Dad are coming to my graduation, right?”
“Of course.” Margo squeezed her hand, still appearing distracted. “Of course we’re coming,” she said in a stronger voice. Her preoccupied gaze returned to Dayna. She smiled unevenly. “It’s your graduation! Why wouldn’t we be there?”
Because you think I’m liable to wash out of cusping-witch school before then. Because you don’t want to be seen with me. Because you obviously wish I would leave town and never return.
“Oh, I don’t know. Maybe you’re both busy that night. Or something.” Then a more optimistic scenario occurred to Dayna.
“You weren’t…hoping I’d stay here in Covenhaven, were you?” She gave her mother an apprehensive look. “Tell me this isn’t all a giant conspiracy between lonely parents and the IAB, designed to bring all the prodigal daughters back home.”
“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous.”
“Well, you seem a little…distracted. What’s the matter?”
