The Ondine Collection

by Ebony McKenna

  Margi charged forward and embraced Ondine, kissing her repeatedly on the cheeks. “It’s just like I dreamed it! Ma said we didn’t have the budget because we spent it on catering. Thank you so much!” Fresh kisses of gratitude rained down on each cheek, depositing lip-gloss over her skin. Then Margi let her go and charged back to Thomas to smother him in kisses.

  Ondine stood there, feeling as if she were about to topple over.

  “Have you worked it out yet?” Col asked her with a look somewhere between ‘smug’ and ‘conspiratorial’ on the spectrum.

  Ondine asked, “Are we . . . making other people’s wishes come true?”

  “You bet you are!” Margi said, taking a napkin and wiping Ondine’s face, but then she kissed her again and smudged her afresh. “Better get back to my husband. Squee! Husband!”

  Margi ran back to Thomas’s waiting arms. The photographer seized the opportunity and took rapid-fire shots to capture the action.

  “Aye lass, making other people’s wishes come true is a beautiful gift.” Hamish gave her a hug and moved to kiss her cheek. “And just so ye know, ye’ve made my all wishes come true too.”

  Warm things blossomed in Ondine as she and Hamish snuck in one more kiss, not caring if anyone was looking.

  The caterers arrived with fresh trays of food and made their way through to the kitchen.

  “No looking!” Cybelle’s voice carried across the room as she held Henrik back from following them.

  “Professional curiosity,” he said.

  “Come on, we’re not working today,” Cybelle said. “Ondi, can you fill his boots with lead so he can’t sneak off?”

  “I’m not a performing seal,” Ondine said.

  “I just want a peek.” Henrik inched closer to the kitchen.

  Cybelle hauled him back. “You are having the day off and you are going to like it.”

  Ma put down her teacup and walked over to Ondine, a broad smile on her face. “I knew it would only be a matter of time before your gifts manifested. I’m so proud of you, darling.” Another set of kisses rained over her face. Surely there was no room left on her cheeks for any more lipstick?

  “Ma stop, please. It’s hurting my head. Aunt Col, you said before that you can feel when you’re doing magic. Well . . . if you’re saying all this other stuff –” she waved her hand around the room filled with more bouquets than a florist shop, “– is because of me . . . then why can’t I feel it?”

  Ma’s palms were up in one of those ‘calm down’ gestures. “We’ll work that out later. It’s Margi’s big day –”

  “And mine!” Thomas yelled out.

  Ma raised her voice, “– And Thomas’s. Thank you, my newly-minted son-in-law!” Then she turned to her aunt. “Please, Auntie Col, I know you’ve always had a soft spot for Ondine. But let’s have this day for Margi and Thomas.”

  Which was fine by Ondine, because she didn’t want to be the centre of attention if it meant people expected her to do magic she had no real control over. It didn’t sit right and she wasn’t sure why. The thought of having magic had always appealed – it’s why she’d gone to Psychic Summercamp in the first place. Unfortunately, her experiences there had shown her she didn’t have an atom of magic in her. But now she had the gift to make other people’s wishes come true. That had to be a good thing, right?

  On a purely selfish level, she’d rather make her own wishes come true. Then, as Hamish wrapped a gentle arm around her shoulders and made her feel protected and loved, she realised she already had everything she’d wished for.

  So maybe it was magic?

  At which point Melody walked in and made a bee-line for the food, while Mrs. Howser walked in and made a bee-line for Ondine.

  The woman pulled away her fur-lined hat, revealing masses of grey curls, skin like a wrinkled bed sheet and a glare that could cut an apple at thirty paces.

  “My dear student, forgive the pun, but you’re blossoming.” Mrs. Howser said with a beaming smile. A smile that didn’t sit right on her face somehow. As if it had been such a long time since she’d had a genuine smile, her muscles were out of practice. “And Hamish, how good to see you again,” she said, the smile losing its way but refusing to ask for directions as she looked him up and down.

  “Aye.”

  “Come now, let’s not be so formal with each other” She flashed a set of pearly whites and kissed Hamish on one cheek, then the other. “My, but you’re more handsome than I remember.”

  Did she have to squeeze his cheek?

  Old Col cleared her throat with far too much gusto. “Something you wanted, Birgit?”

  The last time Ondine had seen these two together, they were none too friendly. Were they about to trade insults? At a wedding?

  “I think,” Mrs. Howser linked her arm into Ondine’s and steered her away from Old Col, “you could do with some proper instruction. You have incredible talent my dear – talent that can’t be wasted here. You simply must come to CovenCon.”

  “ – Ah –”

  “No prevaricating. You are coming, and that’s it. A talent like yours, my dear – oh the things you could do . . . As you well remember, Melody was on the verge of failing astral projection, but with my excellent tutelage, look at her now – she’s flourishing. Oh Melody dear? A moment please?”

  Any moment now Ondine’s knees would turn to dough and she’d fall down from the shock. There was something very wrong about Mrs Howser being so interested in her, especially coming so soon after Old Col’s bombshell about making other people’s wishes come true.

  At the buffet table, Melody stopped piling finger sandwiches on her plate and turned to them. Her cheeks were stuffed with food like a chipmunk preparing for winter.

  Flourishing? The girl was reed thin.

  Old Col took Ondine by the other elbow to steer her away. “All is well in hand here, Birgit. Ondine is under my tutelage.” The words may have been sweet as syrup, but Old Col’s lips were pressed into a determined line.

  “Oh you sweet old thing,” Mrs. Howser said, showing those shiny teeth of hers. “Of course you want to help, but Ondine here needs the very best instruction, and . . . no offence, but with all the goodwill in the world, she’s hardly likely to get it here, is she?” [207]

  “You always had a way with words.” Old Col’s attitude dripped with sarcasm.

  Worries wormed their way through Ondine as the atmosphere turned so frosty their words were snapping as they came out.

  “Don’t let personal jealousies intrude, my dear,” Mrs. Howser said. “You’ve had years to guide Ondine. It’s time to let a professional take over from here.”

  “And you had decades with Hamish, and achieved exactly what?” Old Col shot back.

  They still held Ondine by one elbow each and their grips increased as they tried ever so hard to remain polite.

  “Come now, Colette, we’re not still fighting over Hamish are we? That pot’s boiled dry.” [208]

  They weren’t fighting over Hamish, they were fighting over Ondine. She’d have bruises tomorrow to show for it.

  Mrs. Howser’s nails dug in as she spoke. The words were silk and kindness, the tone crafted from steel. “I think we can both agree Ondine here has tremendous potential. You would not deny her a place at CovenCon merely from spite, would you? Surely even you are not that cruel?”

  “Of course I wouldn’t deny her that.”

  Hamish interrupted with a tray of canapés. “Oh quick, ye need tae hold this, I’m gointae sneeze.” His face contorted into the most bizarre shape.

  Mrs. Howser let go of Ondine and grabbed the tray. He made the loudest, fakest sneeze Ondine had ever witnessed, but she loved him all the more for breaking the witchy standoff.

  AS WEDDING RECEPTIONS go, Margi and Thomas’s was a good one. The food and plütz flowed and everyone kept their speeches mercifully short. Da’s was even funny, making Ondine wonder if she might be exerting even more magic than she imagined. When the string quartet played,
they cheered as Margi and Thomas performed a Bruglish three-step. [209] Guests paired up and joined them on the floor. Hamish reached for Ondine’s hand and asked, “May I have this dance?”

  “Forsooth, My Lord.” Ondine giggled as she made a curtsey to him.

  “Eh?”

  “Sorry, can’t help it. It’s the book you gave me; they’re so formal and say, ‘forsooth!’ all the time and ‘My Lord’ and ‘My Lady’. It’s so cute.”

  “Ye know,” he twirled her into his body as they moved among the guests, “I just remembered. I’m a lord.”

  Laughter bubbled in her heart, but Ondine played along and pretended she didn’t know. “Oh really?”

  “Aye, back in Scotland we say laird, but it’s the same thing.”

  Batting her eyelashes for maximum effect, she asked, “And do you have a castle, my laird?”

  He chuckled. “It’s probably an old pile of stones by now. I havenae been back tae check.”

  “Then we must go one day.”

  “Aye. But ye wouldnae want tae go this time of year. Ye think it’s cold here!”

  A waiter walked past with a tray of sparkling wine. [210] Ondine reached for it just as her Ma turned to see her.

  “Ondi!”

  “Just a sip?”

  “You’re still grounded.”

  “Still?”

  “Yes. Until a fish –”

  “ – dances on a table, I know.” Mercury’s wings but her mother loved that saying.

  Hamish took a sip of his drink. When Ma’s back was turned, he offered his glass to Ondine. The bubbles felt like mousse on her tongue but the taste reminded her of that awful night at the Autumn Palace when Duke Pavla nearly died.

  “You’re too young.” Ma swiped the glass away from her.

  Ah well, she had Hamish instead. He made her feel lightheaded at the best of times.

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  Chapter Eight

  The shortest day of the year arrived with hideous news blaring out the radio as Ondine woke up.

  “Tributes are flowing in from across Europe at the news that Duke Pavla has passed.

  He died in his sleep, attended by close family, however his estranged wife Kerala was not present.

  Brugel will observe full mourning until Christmas Eve.”

  Guilt set up base camp in Ondine’s stomach. She wanted to throw up. The words, “I should have done more. I could have done more,” played in her head as she dragged on her clothes and headed down to the kitchen.

  “It’s nae yer fault, hen,” Hamish said, giving her a comforting hug as they stood in the kitchen, waiting for the kettle to boil. “We tried tae warn him aboot Kerala and he wouldnae listen.”

  “I can’t switch my brain off. I didn’t do enough, and now Vincent’s going to take over, isn’t he? We should have made Pavla listen.” Hindsight dumped a trailer load of “would haves” and “should haves” at her feet. With a side dumping of “if onlys”.

  “Hindsight is always right, hen. But ye cannae let it eat ye up. He didnae want tae listen because in his heart, he knew the truth would kill him.”

  “But . . . Old Col says we’ve got magic, so why couldn’t we save him?”

  Hamish rubbed her back in a comforting way. Then he too sighed and his accent came out even thicker with emotion and regret. “Mebbe he didnae want tae go on. There’s not much ye can do fer someone who’s lawst thae will tae live.”

  “You suck at being a counsellor,” Ondine said with a pathetic sniff.

  “Do ye want me tae stop cuddling ye?”

  “No, keep doing that. You’re really good at that.”

  “Well that’s a plus. And another plus, we have tae close for the day because we’re all in mourning. So ye don’t havetae goe tae school.”

  A huge sigh escaped. “School’s closed for winter, sweetheart. But thanks for trying to cheer me up.”

  “Aye, and at least we goat the wedding over with, so that’s a plus.”

  Yes, at least they’d had that magical day. Thomas and Margi were on their honeymoon by the Black Sea and nothing had happened to spoil that.

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  ONDINE HAD NEVER SEEN so many people wearing black, which stood out starkly against a fresh overnight dumping of snow. [211]

  Everyone wore armbands with the hexagonal flag of Brugel sewn on. Duchess Anathea called for three days of mourning, which meant all non-essential services had to close as a mark of respect. Ma claimed she was deeply upset by Duke Pavla’s death, but Ondine knew her mother’s bad mood stemmed from their having to close until Christmas Eve. It was normally their busiest time of year. When they re-opened, not even a fourth dinner would be able to fit everyone in again before the New Year.

  On the bright side, Ondine was on winter break from school, which meant more delightful time with Hamish. This in turn made her feel guilty about enjoying herself during the official mourning period for Duke Pavla, and the whole blaming-herself-for-his-death started over again. This did nothing for her state of mental health, although every time Hamish saw her looking sad – which was a great deal of the time – he gave her a warm embrace, lovely rubs on the back and beautiful kisses. Which in turn spiralled her into a fresh wave of guilt for enjoying his kisses when she should be miserable.

  Because his kisses were so magical.

  Both commercial networks televised Duke Pavla’s funeral, which allowed people to watch from home in the warmth of their living rooms. [212]

  On the fourth day, which happened to be Christmas Eve, the mourning period was over and the customers returned to The Duke and Ferret. Ondine was back in armpit-deep soapy water washing the dishes from lunch.

  Before her hands had a chance to dry, she then raced around the dining room with the vacuum cleaner before the “second lunch” service began. It was up to Ondine to carry the extra load, as Margi and Thomas were still on their honeymoon by the Black Sea.

  “Can I help ye lass?” Hamish came up behind her.

  Startled by his voice, she spun around, the vacuum nozzle slurping the end of Hamish’s scarf. Before she could grab it, the machine sucked the fabric all the way in.

  “Whoa!” Quick as a flash she tapped the machine off with her foot. “You shouldn’t sneak up on me like that!”

  “I wasnae, but ye couldnae hear me so I had tae get closer.”

  They then spent the next five minutes unravelling the scarf from the machine’s dust bag, then had to turn the machine back on and suck the dust off the scarf, so Hamish could wear it again.

  “Can you re-set the tables?” Ondine asked as she pulled the chairs out with one hand and pushed the vacuum cleaner nozzle with the other.

  “Course I can.” He grabbed a lace tablecloth and flicked it open, then laid it over the top of a table. Then he put the salt and pepper grinders in the central position, but just as he said “ta-da” he knocked the pepper over, spilling black and grey corns all over the tabletop.

  “I’ll get it.” Ondine aimed the nozzle at the runaway corns, which clattered and scattered through the tube and into the bag.

  “Need any help?” Old Col came sauntering in.

  Flicking the machine off with her foot, Ondine looked at her great-auntie and said, “Yes, as a matter of fact. Could you magic this place clean and set the tables for me?”

  Old Col gave Ondine a wink. “What’s in it for me?”

  Hamish answered with, “Free second lunch and as much plütz as the Old Man has left in the bar.”

  “Done!” The witch waved her arms in the air and flicked her wrists and may have even snapped her fingers. At least, Ondine hoped the noise was from snapping her fingers, rather than breaking a bone or something.

  In a blink, the room was ready to receive new customers.

 
“Thank you Auntie Col.”

  “Good, now we can talk.” With a flourish, she withdrew a card from a deep pocket, with the Royal House of Brugel stamped on it. “I have a royal summons from Duchess Anathea, and it’s for all three of us. She wants to meet at the mid-winter fairground in Savo Plaza.” [213] Old Col said. “It’s early evening, around four o’clock, so you’ll be back in time to work for second dinner.”

  Ondine nibbled the inside of her cheek, then looked to her great-aunt. “What does she want with us?”

  “We’ll find out soon enough,” Old Col said.

  IT SNOWED SOMETHING fierce as they walked to the train station on their way to Savo Plaza. If it wasn’t snowing, or sleeting, or so cold their breath froze on their lips, they could have walked the distance. But winter in Venzelemma is not a sensible time to be walking anywhere outdoors.

  Catching the train meant they were warm and dry for brief periods of time, as long as they didn’t sit down on the wooden seats, which were dripping with mud and melted snow from everyone’s snowcoats.

  A blast of arctic air gripped Ondine’s neck as they reached the station at Savo Plaza.

  Her muscles cramped with the effort to keep warm and she felt like she was wearing her shoulders as earrings.

  Once in the plaza, it wasn’t nearly as cold, because the tall buildings formed three quarters of a circle, protecting those inside from the worst of the winter gales.

  The sheer number of people packed into the plaza also defrosted the environment.

  “There she is,” Old Col said apropos of nothing. Her hand flew up to wave at Duchess Anathea who was standing on a gold coloured carpet, in front of a crowd at the Ferris wheel.

  Nearby, a woman with a vacuum cleaner strapped on her back worked quickly to keep the carpet dry and free of snow.

  A pang of jealousy hit Ondine as she wished she had someone to walk in front of her and suck up snow and slush all day.

  The duchess was still in mourning for her brother, while also being dressed comfortably for the cold. A lush black coat with fur-lined collar and cuffs and matching fur trim at the hem, which came to just below her knees.