“I will. And I’ll tell her how beautifully you did it, too.” He tucked the mirror into his suit pocket and held on to the satin bag with his other hand, wrapping the gold drawstring around his palm. “Back soon.”
She nodded and stepped back.
He faced the mirror and just like the last time, filled his being with thoughts of Olivia, mentally urging the mirror to take him to wherever she was. The pull of the magic caught him and on a blink, he opened his eyes to see the gray plane of the Claustrum. Again.
The wind howled, tearing past him in a quick burst that scoured his face and hands with grit. He squinted as his suit jacket flew out behind him like a sail. This was no kind of weather to scatter ashes in.
He questioned going back, but then, as if something greater understood his purpose, the wind died away. A few slim gusts raced past, but nothing as harsh as the first.
“Livie, if you’re here, and I hope you’re not, I also hope you can find a way out. There are so many better places your soul could roam.”
He raised the bag of ashes. “For you, Olivia Goodwin. May you find your peace, wherever that is.”
Working the knotted cord loose, he opened the bag, got the wind against his back and shook the contents out.
The ashes drifted down, then a breeze caught them and whirled them into a cyclone. The wind picked up, whipping the cyclone faster and higher. His mouth opened. The spinning mass began to take on a very recognizable shape.
“Livie?” He breathed the word out on a whisper. The ashes spun faster, tighter, higher and as they did, the faint scent of lemon verbena wafted toward him. It was Livie. Somehow. He yelled her name and the ash golem reached out for him.
He moved toward her, his hand out to take hers.
Her lips moved. “Augie…” But the sound was so faint he questioned whether it was a voice or the wind whining in his ears.
Before he reached her, another howling gust shoved against him, pushing him back and filling his eyes with grit. It ripped the bag from his hand. He grabbed at it, but it belonged to the wind now. He coughed, blinking hard. Then the wind disappeared and the ash figure was gone. He twisted, searching the plane for her. Nothing.
In the relentless gray around him, it was impossible to even tell where the ashes had fallen.
He’d had some hope before, a tiny, foolish amount that had clung despite all reason, but now not even that remained. Olivia was truly gone. The truth pressed on him heavier than anything he’d felt before.
A slip of air brushed past his cheek so light it could almost be a caress. He scowled and turned away from it, bitter at the plane for its sour magic.
“Damn this place.” He pulled out his borrowed mirror and slipped home to stand on ground he could trust.
“Deliver the list.”
Giselle refused to move. Her father had lost his mind. She glanced once at the envelope he held out to her, then shook her head. “He asked you for it, not me. If you don’t want to go yourself, send a messenger. Surely he can’t expect to have you at his beck and call.”
Evander raised his hands skyward. “I told him at the memorial you would be by with it later. It’s later. You need to take it.”
Her cheek spasmed from clenching her jaw shut. There was no way out of this. Continuing to refuse would anger her father to the point where she’d spend more energy getting back into his good graces than she cared to waste. She snatched the list from his hand. “You owe me.”
He shook his head. “You foolish girl. Without that list, he will pull your license. If you can’t practice, how will you live?”
She thought of her private clients, the elite of New Orleans who paid dearly for her spells and detailed readings. She needed that business to survive. “He wouldn’t do that to me.”
“To you and every other member of the coven until he gets what he wants. He promised as much. Starting with you.”
“Bastard.”
“Watch your language, girl. You’re still my daughter and you still represent me and the New Orleans Circle. Be careful you don’t do anything to harm our reputation.”
“You think I could harm our reputation? Spare me, Daddy. You think the tourists that come here seeking us out for the spells and potions do that because they respect us?” She laughed. “We’re a sideshow to them. A strange band of misfits who hug trees and worship flowers and dance skyclad under the full moon.
“And do you know why they think that?” She slapped a hand on his desk. “Because that’s all the fae will let us be. They’ve castrated us like dogs. We had power, but we’ve become too afraid to use it and now so few of us remember how to call up that kind of strength, we have no choice but to limp along under the weight of the fae thumb.”
An angry cloud shadowed his face. “And what? You’d change all that if given the chance? How, you stupid girl? The fae are greater than we are.”
“Only because you let them. You and the last few wizards before you.” Her heart pounded. She’d thought this way many times, but had never spoken the words to her father, although she was sure none of this was a shock to him.
“You don’t understand a thing.” Her father’s face went ruddy with rage. “He’s got evidence that black magic was used to murder a vampire. I can only presume it was the vampire arrested in connection to the last Guardian’s murder. I am trying to protect us. I am already working angles you can’t imagine. Stop fighting me.”
An image of a charm she’d recently bespelled filled her head. She shoved it away, then stepped back, raising the list. “Is my name on this list?”
He heaved out a sigh. “Are you listening to me, girl? I just said I am trying to protect us. No, not your name, nor mine nor your sister’s. Will you ever trust me? I know what I’m doing.”
She nodded, thankful that her father was willing to do that much. “I will deliver this for you. And I apologize if I am… enthusiastic about returning to the old ways. I see so much potential for us, but as long as the fae collar us with their regulations, we’ll never get there.”
His face softened at her words, exactly her desired effect. “Giselle, Giselle.” He shook his head and sat heavily in his chair. “Your mother…”
She held very still, afraid the slightest thing might keep him from going further.
He looked out the window. “You’re so much like her. She felt the same way. Pushed me to break the treaty with the fae, to find some way to allow us more freedom.” He paused, swallowing down something painful.
Giselle had an idea of what that was. “She didn’t kill herself because of you,” she said softly. That was a burden they’d all dealt with, but her father most of all.
He laughed once, short and sharp. “She didn’t kill herself at all.”
“What?”
“Not intentionally, anyway.” He shook himself as if an old memory had gotten stuck. “She was performing the ruina vox.” He wiped a hand over his mouth. “She lost control of it and the spell turned inward. The only thing she destroyed was herself.”
Giselle reached for the chair beside her and fell into it. All these years she’d thought her mother weak for committing suicide. And all these years it had been a lie. “Why tell everyone she killed herself then?”
The sadness on his face was instantly replaced with anger. “Tell the world she was killed performing chaos magic? That she’d intended to destroy the fae with it? How would that be better?” He shook his head as the anger faded. “I did what was necessary to protect the coven, but mostly you and Zara.”
“You did what you did to protect the status quo.” She stood, newly energized. “You made her out to be weak and incapable of dealing with life. At least she died trying to make a difference.”
“Giselle—”
“Save it.” She headed for the door. “I’ve had more than enough conversation for one day.”
She slammed his office door and left the house before he could come after her. Not that he would. His world was too comfortable and didn�
�t require her assistance. She glanced at the list in her hand. Except for the fact that he’d kept her off the list, she was just another member of the circle to him. One that needed to be controlled. Had he also controlled her mother that way? Was that why she’d struck out on her own? Why they’d divorced?
Giselle pulled her coat tighter against the evening air. The sidewalks were almost empty. She got her bearings and headed for Augustine’s. What else was her father lying about? Were there details of the treaty she didn’t know? Did Augustine really have proof of black magic being used or was that Evander’s way of getting her to do as he wished?
Zara would have to be told the truth about their mother, although Giselle couldn’t predict how her sister would react. Perhaps plant a tree in her mother’s memory. That is, another tree. Although, to be fair, Zara did live in their mother’s house, which is where she’d died. Had she performed the ruina vox in the house or in the garden? A spell that big needed space. Had to be the garden.
Giselle almost stopped walking. Did Zara already know the story about their mother’s suicide was a lie? Zara was a green witch, and a very powerful one. If the garden had secrets to tell, Zara was powerful enough to find them out. But why would she not share that information? She must not know. Zara wasn’t the kind to keep something like that hidden, even if it meant protecting their father.
Augustine’s house was up ahead. Enough lights shone from inside that someone had to be home. She opened the gate and walked up the steps to the double glass doors. Even in the porch light they sparkled. She pushed the doorbell.
He didn’t keep her waiting long. “Giselle. What is it?”
His sharp response almost made her snap, but his suit reminded her today had not been an easy day for him. She almost let it slide. “Weren’t you expecting me? I have the list you asked for.” She dug the envelope out of her coat pocket and offered it to him.
“Yes, I was. Just… a lot going on.” He took the list, then opened the door a little wider. “Come in.”
She hadn’t expected the invite. “I was just going to drop that off.”
“These names don’t tell me anything about the person. I need to go over this with you and ask questions.”
Sighing and not caring what he thought, she stepped inside. “For the record, I’m against this.”
He frowned. “Going over the list? Or coming in? Afraid someone will see you fraternizing with the enemy?”
She almost said yes, then caught herself. “I’m against you asking for a list of coven members who might be performing prohibited types of magic and I’m against my father agreeing to it.”
“True to type, then.” He walked down the hall, crooking his finger for her to follow.
She followed. “What’s that supposed to mean?” The room they went in was a library about three times the size of her father’s, but there was no way the books in here held the kind of power her father’s did.
Augustine slid the pocket doors shut after she entered. “It means it’s what I expected of you. You’re the rebellious daughter. You clearly don’t like the rules the Elektos have imposed on your people. I’d have been far more surprised if you’d thought the list was a good idea.” He sat and tore the envelope open, then slipped the paper out and started reading.
She sat on the couch opposite him, looking around the room while she waited. From the books to the paintings to the objets d’art, the place dripped in valuables. A glass case against one wall caught her eye. It was illuminated from above and the book within seemed to glow in that way of old books made of onionskin paper. Augustine was still reading, so she got up to take a closer look.
The glass reflected her face back at her, the shock in her eyes plainly visible. “Is this real?”
“Yes.”
The voice came from directly beside her and she jumped. Augustine was no longer on the couch but right next to her. Damn his fae quietness. She turned, using the move to put a little distance between them. Her finger tapped the glass. “You’re telling me this is a genuine Gutenberg Bible?”
He nodded. “Livie loved books and this was one of her favorites.”
“They’re extremely rare. And very expensive.” A million dollars? Maybe more? She wasn’t sure about the amount, just that it was very high. But nothing compared to the power in such a thing.
“I think she loved it more for its rareness and content than its value.” He held the list up, the paper folded the way it had been in the envelope. “The New Orleans Circle is nearly five hundred members with what, twice as many novices waiting to be confirmed? There are twenty-nine people on this list.” His gray-green eyes darkened. “I’m sure your father told you what I would do if I didn’t get this list.”
“He did, but you got the list.” She crossed her arms. “And making good on that threat? Not really a road you want to go down. Pulling licenses makes for a good scare tactic, but in reality it will only create enemies. And it won’t stop any of us from practicing.” She tipped her head and smiled sweetly. “You don’t want to be that Guardian, do you?”
He stepped into her personal space, his gaze pinning her to the spot. “I’m already that Guardian. If I don’t get the corrected list by nine tomorrow morning, your license will be revoked by one minute after. Am I clear?”
She snatched the paper from his hand. “Clearly insane.” She marched away from him, glad she’d kept her coat on.
He followed her into the hall. “I have murderers to find. Maybe you don’t get that.”
She spun to face him. “You have vampires to find. We’re witches. There’s a difference. Or maybe you don’t get that.”
He opened his mouth to say something, then abruptly turned to look at the big mirror hanging on the wall beside them. “Do you smell that?”
“What?”
He moved toward the gaudy gold mirror. “Lemon verbena. Her scent.” His fingers traced the outside edges of the frame.
“Who?”
“Olivia Goodwin.” But he was focused on the mirror, staring into it like he could see beyond the glass.
She held her tongue and took a closer look. Something was off about the mirror. The glass wavered like it had a watery depth to it. Like you could stick your hand into it almost. Something shadowy darted through the main field of vision. She jerked back. “What magic is this? Who bespelled this glass?”
He looked at her. “Why? Tell me what you see.”
The desperate longing in his eyes almost undid her. “I can’t see anything, but I can tell that this mirror is more than it seems. Like something is trying to get out.” Telling him more would only lead to questions she couldn’t answer. “Is this mirror a portal to somewhere? This is gray magic at best. You shouldn’t play with it.”
Annoyance erased the longing. “I’m not playing. I am trying to help a friend.” He ran his hands over the nubs of his horns. “Out. Please. I have work to do. I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”
She backed toward the door, sketching a sarcastic bow. “As you wish, Guardian.”
But her insolence was lost on him. He was already leaning into the glass and whispering something she couldn’t quite hear.
Whatever that mirror was, it was important to Augustine. She put her hand on the doorknob. Something he wouldn’t want damaged or destroyed. The kind of thing that might make a valuable bargaining chip. She stored that away and smiled as she walked out of the house.
He’d better think twice before revoking her license. Glass was very fragile. A mirror that large could be broken so easily.
Chapter Twenty-two
Harlow dragged herself out of bed, the seductive scent of coffee too much for her to ignore, and pulled some clothes on. Not even eight o’clock yet. After her late night, she’d expected to sleep longer, but the excitement of finally knowing who her father was wouldn’t let her rest.
She’d worked well into the early morning, scouring the Web for information on Joseph Branzino and hardly finding much more than when she ha
dn’t known her father’s name. For someone with her skills, that could mean only two things. One, he was one of those very rare people who truly had no interest in social media or publicity and had managed to maintain a nearly infinitesimal online presence. Or, two, his lack of online presence was carefully cultivated by a team of erasers, which seemed much more plausible.
Considering Branzino’s claim of being a businessman, she chose to believe the latter. It made sense. Very wealthy people often hired erasers to protect them from the kinds of electronic mischief so blatant online these days. It had been worse before the Great War, when electricity was less expensive and connectivity almost an innate right.
But even consciously believing that was a little tricky. She’d done some erasing work herself. Whoever he’d hired was good. As good as she was. And she was really good. She’d yet to meet an eraser better than her, one that didn’t leave some tiny trace of info, some little footprint that led her to a back door somewhere. An overseas bank account. A dummy corporation. Something.
Branzino had none of that. The best she could unearth was the names of his two sons.
Sons.
Her half brothers. She stopped in the middle of the stairs on her way down to the kitchen. Was it possible one of her half brothers had the same computer ability she did? That would explain so much. She started moving again, hitting the floor with new questions.
If one of her half brothers was as computer-savvy as she was, what exactly was Branzino hiding? Nothing, she told herself. Because that’s what she wanted it to be. Even though she’d been wrong about thinking her father was human, too. That revelation had scoured away part of her dream about who her father was. She wasn’t ready to let any more of that dream go yet.
“Morning.” She sailed past Augustine and Lally on her way to the coffeepot.
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