CHAPTER FIVE
When I woke up in the morning, after a fitful couple of hours, someone had already pulled back the curtains to let the first streaks of sunlight sweep across my face. There was a tray on the dresser with cereal, a little jug of milk and a glass of orange juice. I looked for the blue box and saw that it was still on the nightstand exactly where I left it.
It disturbed me a little that whoever had come in, like the night before when I showered, had been quiet enough so as not to wake me and that I never even knew they were there. The bedroom door opening in the night flashed through my mind and I shuddered. Had that person come back too? I couldn’t be sure.
I reached for my wristwatch on the nightstand and checked the time. Someone had been close enough to me to adjust the hands and it read six thirty, a time I’d never been fond of, no matter where I was. Except today I wasn’t struggling from sleep in order to trudge to work. I was in bed in a luxurious apartment thousands of miles from home and, as far as I knew, had nothing even remotely familiar on my day’s agenda. It wasn’t a particularly comforting thought.
It took all my energy to slide out from the warm covers and stumble into the bathroom to use the toilet, shower and brush my teeth. Ten minutes later, I was dressed in jeans, a t-shirt and v-neck sweater in the palest lilac which was the best I could do for travelling clothes without knowing where I was travelling to or how. Was Étoile planning on zapping us somewhere?
I flittered around in the centre of the room for a moment or two, wondering if I was supposed to tell someone that I was awake. Then my eyes caught the breakfast tray again; my stomach gave a little grumble and I sat down to eat. I spooned a mouthful of cereal and brought it up to my lips just as a knock on the door interrupted my solitude. I called, “Come in.”
Étoile peeped her head around. Of course, she looked immaculate in a deep navy turtle-neck sweater, which only accentuated how pale she was and how high her cheekbones were. She smiled. “We have to go now. The sooner the better.”
“How are we going?” I asked, my spoon hovering in the air. I put it down before I spilled milk across my sweater.
Étoile frowned as if I’d just asked something really dumb. “By car, of course. Marc will drive.”
“Oh.” I swallowed the last of my orange juice. “Good. When will we get there?”
“A few hours or so,” answered Étoile. I could see that she had a small bag packed and it stood in the hallway, just beyond the door. “Can you be ready in five minutes?”
“Yes, of course.” Étoile ducked out but left the door ajar. I ate the rest of my cereal so fast that I could only hope I wouldn’t get indigestion. I faffed around for a few seconds trying to arrange the tray before throwing a napkin – starched white, of course – over the bowl.
I pulled my bag onto the bed and tossed the few things I’d taken out back in, then wrapped the blue box in a sweater, placing it on top before zipping up the bag. I tugged on my trainers and bent to tie them, then pulled on the grey jacket, remembering to pick up my smaller shoulder bag with my wallet full of useless coins and notes. I wondered if the day would come when I wouldn’t be able to pack all my stuff in minutes, when I wouldn’t be at the mercy of other people sending me here and there. I chided myself silently. If it weren’t for Étoile, I’d be dead now. If it weren’t for the council, I wouldn’t have a home or protection. I should be grateful for everything that they were doing for me, not whimpering about how hard my life was. As if it had ever been easy! And really, what was I missing anyway? Marc had been right. Not a lot.
I pulled my hair back in a tight ponytail with a band and checked it was smooth in the mirror, nodding at myself in approval. Sure, the ends were still slightly singed but I’d have to deal with that another time. “Man up, Stella,” I whispered at my reflection and the irony wasn’t lost on me; that was something I certainly could not do, however hard I tried.
Étoile was waiting outside my door. She had pulled the retractable handle out of her bag and was leaning on it.
“Is that all you’ve got?” I asked. Étoile was looking splendid again, of course, in expensive jeans that hugged her long legs and the clingy navy sweater. I wondered if she used some sort of magic to keep herself so neat. I wondered if I could learn that.
“I already have things there.” Étoile linked her arm to mine as though we had been friends forever and wheeled her case behind us with her free hand. Marc was waiting for us in the lobby but his parents weren’t anywhere to be seen. I looked around and surprise must have been etched on my face because Marc said, “Mom and Dad said to tell you goodbye and apologised that your stay was cut short. They’re attending to business at the moment and can’t be spared.”
I wanted to ask if it was the kind of business that involved asking if anyone other than the Brotherhood was a threat but instead, kept my mouth shut and nodded. “Are we leaving now?” My voice sounded plaintive and small in the big room.
“Yes,” replied Marc, as he swung a black rucksack over his shoulder. “There’s extra wards protecting the building and they cast a protection spell on the car. Spells don’t last long while things are moving, but it should be enough to get us out of the city without being observed.”
We followed him out the door to the private lift that served the penthouse. As we travelled down, I wondered how much I could ask about where we were going and what they would tell me. If they would tell me anything at all. It wasn’t my modus operandi to follow other people around blindly. I stifled a laugh in my throat and Étoile twitched an eyebrow at me. What could I say? I thought as I turned the slightly hysterical little laugh into a cough. It wasn’t in my M.O. to hop on planes, or, for that matter, even hang out with people. Nothing was normal anymore. Étoile let go of her bag long enough to place a cool hand over my wrist and her touch alone sent a wave of calm over me, driving the brief hysteria back along with the rising lump in my throat. Marc, lost in his own thoughts, didn’t seem to notice.
The doors slid open to the underground car park and we followed Marc to the huge black Cadillacs, but to my surprise, when Marc pressed his key fob, the lights of a silver Prius parked next to them flashed.
“Much less ostentatious,” Marc explained, opening the door and motioning that I should get in on the correct passenger side, which wasn’t the side I had stepped towards. He took my bag and tossed it in the trunk with his, then took Étoile’s as she climbed into the back and slid over so she was behind the driver’s seat. As I plugged my seat belt in, Marc took the driver’s seat beside me and turned the ignition.
“I know I’ve already asked,” I said, as the engine sprang to life, “but where exactly are we going? I know it’s a sort of safe house?”
“It’s a safe house that we use,” confirmed Marc, as he checked the rear view mirror and reversed. “It’s owned by a friend of the council and we use it as a, sort of, training ground. Our veterans help the novices learn how to control their powers, both wisely and effectively.”
“Is this friend a witch?”
Marc looked at Étoile in the rear view mirror. From the corner of my eye, I saw her give a little shake of her head. Marc looked over at me briefly and said, “Not exactly, but she’s not against us either. She’s neutral.”
“Have you been there before?” I asked wondering who “she” might be.
“Étoile was there for a while until she was sent to England a few days ago and I come and go.”
“It’s very nice and there are a few of us there,” said Étoile, leaning forward between the seats. “I’m sure you’ll like it. You’ll learn a lot. Plus you’ll meet my sister, Seren, and your friend, Kitty.”
Marc flinched at the name as he threw the car into drive.
I twisted in my seat to look at Étoile. “I don’t have a friend called Kitty.”
“You will,” said Étoile, with absolute confidence.
Marc drove across the car park, past a series of expensive vehicles, and manoeuvred the car up the exit ramp. He w
aved to the uniformed attendant standing in the guard box at the top of the ramp and waited for the barrier to rise before turning onto the street and accelerating. He drove carefully so as not to attract any attention towards us and soon we were on the bridge. I almost wished I had been here as a tourist so that I could spend some time marvelling at the bridge’s construction and the city retreating behind us. I wondered if I would ever come back.
Marc closed his hand over mine and gently squeezed it before regrasping the steering wheel. I was grateful for the human touch and a warmth spread through me as I remembered last night’s kiss. Marc winked at me and I dipped my eyes so I could suppress a smile.
“Do you... did you both train there? At this school?”
“No.” It was Étoile’s turn to speak. “Our parents instructed us, but lately, after... well, Seren and I needed to re-learn some things and it’s convenient for us to be based at the house.”
“What can you do?” I asked. “I know you can move yourself the same way I can.”
“That,” agreed Étoile. “I can see the future too, just glimpses. Seren is an empath. She is very intuitive to the feelings of others, as well as animals. She shimmers too. Those are our main strengths but we have other skills too.”
“What about you, Marc?”
Marc’s hands gripped the wheel and he stared ahead for a moment before answering. “I don’t know yet.”
“I don’t understand.”
“Marc is a slow learner,” said Étoile with a snicker.
Marc drew in a breath. “For some of us, magic doesn’t come straight away. It’s in me; it’s inherited, but I don’t know what I can do with it.” He shook his head and continued as though he were used to explaining it. “It’s an anomaly but it happens.”
I wondered what his parents, the council leaders, thought about their son being an anomaly amongst all the power that their clan brandished. I suspected they weren’t thrilled – it would be like two maths professors having a kid with dyscalculia, I thought. But I suspected that it was harder for Marc not knowing what power he did possess nor how to access it when everyone around him was teeming with it. Even I could sneeze and... “shimmer” and I didn’t know what the hell I was doing.
“I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’ll work itself out.” Marc’s voice was stiff and decisive. As far as conversations went, we’d pretty much killed that one.
Étoile had her phone out again and was busily tapping keys while Marc concentrated on the road. I leant my head against the headrest and watched the world whiz past my window as I contemplated Étoile’s Blackberry addiction. It must be nice having so many people to constantly contact, I thought. Though it was early morning, after a while, I could feel my head loll. I twisted my head from side to side but the jetlag and the past night was finally catching up on me as the burr of the engine lulled me to sleep.
By the time I woke again and blinked at the clock on the dash, Marc had been driving for hours. The scenery whipped past in a blur of roadside businesses that gave way to trees and open farmland. When we finally left the highway and turned into town, I was pretty sick of sitting in the car and desperate to get out and stretch my legs. We drove a little further until Marc slowed and turned through a pair of open gates.
Manicured lawns hugged the drive with borders of neatly clipped mature shrubs and a spattering of coloured flowers. It looked for all the world like a large family house, inconspicuous in its normalcy. I wasn’t sure what I was expecting, but it wasn’t this. Marc parked the car in front and I stepped out before he could walk around and open my door. I inhaled deeply and was tickled to find the air slightly salty, like seawater. I wondered if the ocean was closeby. I hoped so. I had never had much cause to go to the beach but the idea of one nearby seemed pretty nice to me. And so completely normal.
The house was a two-story, white clapboard with an oversized porch. One end of the house jutted out at a right angle to the main part. Several cars were parked off to the left and there was enough room on the drive that none would have to move for the others to pass. The front door, painted in a soft sage green, was framed with four windows on each side and I could see that the house stretched backwards. It was large and welcoming.
Someone had clearly been waiting for us because the door popped open just as Marc unloaded our bags. An elderly lady in a floral dress with a white half-apron covering her skirt stood in the shade of the porch in obvious anticipation. She smiled broadly and I couldn’t help but smile back.
“Don’t just stand there, dears. I’ve baked scones and made iced tea for you all after that long drive.” She beckoned us to follow as she retreated inside.
Sure enough, the aroma of baking drifted towards us. We grabbed our bags from where Marc had set them on the driveway and entered the house; Étoile pausing to stoop and kiss the old lady on the cheek.
“Go on into the kitchen. I’ll just tell everyone that you’re here,” said the old lady as I passed her. When I looked back to the door, she was already gone and Marc was pushing it closed.
“Who was that?” I asked.
“Not so much who, as what,” muttered Marc softly, before saying more loudly. “We call her Aunt Meg. She owns the place.”
“Come on through to the kitchen. Aunt Meg is a whiz at baking.” Étoile signalled to me to stow my bags in the hallway next to hers and I followed her past doorways that led off to rooms full of furniture – but empty of people – and into the kitchen. As promised, the long, scrubbed pine, farmhouse table was spread with a large glass jug of iced tea, icy rivelets dribbling down the sides, and a cluster of glasses next to it. A cake plate with a short stubby stand and fluted edges had a mound of fresh English fruit scones and I sighed with pleasure. There was a stack of china plates and pots with butter and jam. Knives rested on folded cotton napkins. My stomach gave another little rumble so I kneaded it with my knuckles.
“Have a seat, have a seat, my dears. Stella, we’re so glad to have you here.” Aunt Meg took my hand in hers, covered it with another cool hand and shook it. I shivered at her wintry touch but remembered my manners and said I was pleased to meet her and thanks for having me.
“Not at all,” murmured Aunt Meg, indicating to sit while she poured iced tea for us. She sat at the head of the table and smiled beatifically at us as she passed out the plates. “What a long drive you’ve had. I’ve made up your beds. Stella, you will have our yellow room. It’s not really very yellow but there are an awful lot of rooms here, so that’s what we call it. Étoile, you are next to Seren as per usual. Marc, you have the blue room. I know you like the green room but that has been commandeered by a new recruit. Do have some jam, Stella. I made it from the fruit from these gardens.”
I helped myself to the jam and slathered it over my split scone, biting into it. It was still warm from the oven and the apple jam was gently scented with something, cinnamon, I thought. Étoile was already reaching for a second.
“I’m sorry a welcoming committee hasn’t turned out to greet you but we’ve all been rather busy. Rest assured, everyone is very keen to meet you and they will drift along sooner or later.” Meg cocked her head to one side and leaned back a little to look along the passageway before turning back to us. “Ah, here’s one now. Evan!”
I brushed the crumbs from my mouth and took a sip from my iced tea. When I looked up, it was all I could do not to gasp.
The man filling the doorway was at least six foot two with broad shoulders that tapered to a neat waist and long, jeaned legs. Toned arms extended from under a grey t-shirt and his hands didn’t look like strangers to work. As my eyes travelled up from his chest, I noted a tanned, square jaw that hadn’t seen a razor in a day or two, a slim nose and brown eyes so dark I could barely distinguish iris from pupil. His hair was cut short and so dark it could almost have been black. He wasn’t beautiful in the traditional sense but he was captivating, the type of man people automatically turn their heads to have another look at. I could
n’t drag my eyes away and my heart did a little flip.
A fleeting image of being wrapped up in his arms, his lips crushing mine, overtook my mind. He caught my eye and held my gaze. I was glad he couldn’t see inside my mind, but I blushed furiously. His face looked thunderous. And now, come to think of it, Marc didn’t exactly look happy either.
“This is her?” he asked no one in particular, his eyes still fixed on me, his expression fading from thunder to completely impassive.
“Stella,” I spluttered, my cheeks still red as the image in my head seemed to topple over and send us sprawling, limbs entwined. Was I supposed to shake his hand now? Good God. “Hi.”
Étoile looked from me to Evan and coughed lightly, her hand covering a smile and I just had enough time to wonder what she had seen before she said, “Evan will be teaching you.”
“I will not,’ announced Evan, his mouth set in a firm line. “She leaks. Find someone else.”
“David could teach her,” snapped Marc, scowling at Evan. The muscles in his arm had tensed though he was still sitting and I could see the veins bulge. What was with him?
“David is teaching Christy, Clara and Jared,” said Aunt Meg placidly. “Evan will be teaching her. That’s why he’s here.”
The ensuing silence was deafening. Marc scowled at Evan, Evan looked spitefully at me and I gripped my glass as if it were a life rope in a storm. Étoile finished up her second scone and looked around gleefully as if we were the height of entertainment. Meanwhile, my mind was getting increasingly lurid and I could hardly look Evan in the eye for fear that he would know that I’d just had a very exciting mental picture of us doing something that really should not have popped into my head while I was having a scone with civilised company.
“If you don’t want to teach me, fine,” I gasped, daring to look at Evan from under my lashes. Marc had leant back in his seat, arms crossed; Meg and Étoile were still looking at the man expectantly. Étoile coughed, but not before I heard her snicker again.
His jaw shifted and he breathed out. “I’ll teach you,” he said at last, making it sound like the least pleasant chore he could be assigned.
“Okay.”
“Fine.” Evan stepped back out of the doorway and strode back the way he came.
“Whew!” said Étoile. “That was weird. Like he was ever not going to teach you.”
“He’s an ass,” muttered Marc, swallowing the last of his iced tea and banging the glass back down on the table. “I’m sorry you’re stuck with him.”
“Evan Hunter is a very good teacher,” Aunt Meg chided as she gathered up the plates and swatted Étoile’s hand from the cake stand with a napkin before she could reach for another scone. I noticed Aunt Meg hadn’t eaten or drunk anything and hoped she didn’t think I was greedy for gobbling mine as fast as I could.
“What did he mean – I leaked?” I asked, thinking that sounded, well, gross.
“Your magic,” said Étoile. “He can feel it. So can I. You aren’t containing it, so it leaks. Not your fault.”
“Étoile, would you show Stella her room? Seren is outside somewhere waiting for you,” said Meg, effectively killing that conversation stream dead.
“Of course, and thank you for your delicious scones.” Étoile didn’t seem to be at all upset that the third scone had evaded her. She stage whispered to me, “Aunt Meg likes to feed. If you’re not careful, she will make you awfully fat.”
She grabbed my hand to skitter out of the kitchen as the elderly housekeeper shooed us out with a laugh. We walked back towards the door but peeled off right to the stairway and I followed Étoile as she scampered up. On the way, I peered into the downstairs rooms looking for Evan but he had vanished and I tried to shake the thought of him from my mind. Upstairs, the landing was long and bright, flooded with light from the picture window and punctuated by many doors. The walls played host to a series of landscape pictures. “How many bedrooms are here?” I asked, trying to make conversation while I got the lay of the land.
“About ten upstairs, I think, including the two in the attic,” said Étoile. “And a couple downstairs and there’s a little cottage on the grounds too for when the house is very full. It’s a very old house. Aunt Meg’s family built it at least a century ago and they have added to it over the years.”
“She doesn’t have any family?”
Étoile shook her head as she counted doors, her fingers trailing on the chair rail. “One, two, three... here we are, yellow room.” She pushed open the door and grinned at me. “Got it right, come on in. So, Aunt Meg’s husband died aeons ago and then her daughter. She had grandchildren but they’re gone now too. Oh no, not dead. Seattle, I think. So, you know, close! I think that’s why she likes us here, coming and going and filling the house up. Plus she is paid generously to put up with us.”
“She’s not a witch?”
“No, she’s a...” Étoile stopped herself. She pursed her lips and took a breath, then said, “No, not a witch but we love her anyway.”
She had avoided the question in the car too and I wondered what Aunt Meg was that was so bad no one wanted to say. I was going to ask her what she meant but when I stepped inside the room, the thought slipped away. The yellow room was, indeed, not very yellow. There was wallpaper with pale yellow stripes and tiny roses and a big iron bed with a white coverlet sprigged with pastel flowers, set in between two windows with white shutters. One had a window seat with scattered cushions and a folded blanket. There was a white dresser and a closet set into the wall and a door opened just a crack that led to the en suite. The room was bright, airy and quite the prettiest room I had ever seen. My flat – my former flat, I corrected myself – was positively grotty in comparison.
“I love it,” I said, grinning at Étoile.
“Great. Meg knew you would, she always knows. I am next to you and Seren the other side of me. Marc is downstairs. Kitty is opposite and you’ll meet her later. Evan is at the end of the hall.”
Evan flickered into my mind and I imagined myself alone in a room with him and blushed again. I could not handle having a crush, especially such a lurid one, on my apparent teacher. Étoile winked lasciviously at me.
“He is rather yummy, isn’t he?”
“Evan? Sure, I guess.” I shrugged, trying to look nonplussed.
“Sure. Whatever. Not sure any of us exist on his radar. Not that any of us have tried,” she added as an afterthought. “I am going to head outside to find my sister. Can you find your way back out again? There’s a door to the yard off the kitchen. You can go where you like here. Just stay in the grounds, please.”
I nodded.
Étoile started to leave, then paused and put her arms around me, giving me a little squeeze. “Welcome home,” she said and kissed me on the cheek before disappearing into the hallway.
I looked after her, momentarily blindsided by the little show of affection, then pushed the door. It closed with a little click. My bag was just inside the door so I took it to the closet and decided to empty it, seeing as it looked like I was staying. I hadn’t protested anyway. I hung my clothes on the hangers and folded a few tees into the drawers. Even out of the bag, they looked pitifully few. I put the blue box into the top drawer and my bits of jewellery in the dish on top. It was shaped like a little bird with a fanned tail and my oddments glittered against the enamel.
I took a moment to brush my ponytail and smooth the sides of my hair before poking around the room, finding, to my delight, that the en suite had been left with fresh towels folded over the tub and a basket of toiletries. There was even a toothbrush still in its card wrapper, which was just as well because I hadn’t brought one with me.
I sat on the bed for a moment and bounced once, twice, laughing at myself before hopping up to look out the window. Beyond were gardens, mostly lawn, then a path leading off to my right which meandered towards steps that dropped down into another garden level. I could just see a further level that rolled down to a beach, wooden
steps carved into the rock and a curl of blue water beyond. I hoped I’d get to explore sometime soon. Maybe even now? Étoile had said I could go anywhere.
I was out of my room before I could talk myself out of poking around someone else’s property.
The first room I came across, after scampering down the stairs, was the living room, directly opposite the stairs and across the entrance hall. It was comfy with wide sofas and a big TV in the corner. I scanned the DVDs lined up on the shelf above it. “Buffy the Vampire Slayer,” “Twilight,” “An American Werewolf in London,” “Supernatural,” “Carrie.” Some wit had folded a piece of card and put it on the shelf in front of them; “documentaries” was the label in a flowing script. I stifled the urge to laugh and then thought a bit. Perhaps there was something more to the label than a joke. Despite the warmth, I shivered and turned away.
The living room was comfortable with three big sofas in blue ticking and two armchairs. A stack of thick floor cushions lay behind them. Clearly, the room was designed for seating many people and I wondered how many the house could hold. On one wall was a fireplace with a stack of logs in a basket and next to that, the large flatscreen television and a DVD player with the remotes stacked neatly on top. On the other wall was a wide window overlooking the front garden; the opposite window had French doors that viewed a small patio with an iron table and chairs worked in a fancy pattern that made it look like lace.
I headed back out to the hallway and retraced my former steps past two closed doors, which I assumed were the ground floor bedrooms (I wondered which one was Marc’s) and towards the kitchen. The old lady, Aunt Meg, wasn’t there so I went out the open door, across the patio, following the path into the garden.
A small group sat in a circle under the shade of a large tree. Marc had trailed behind me and he nudged me as I debated which way to go. “Settling in?”
“Yes, thank you. My room is incredibly pretty.”
“The girls thought you would like it. They’ve been looking forward to you coming. They’re a bit starved for company here.”
“So anyone new will do, huh?” I jested but Marc frowned, deep lines setting between his brows. I rolled my eyes. “Joking.”
“Under the tree there is David.” Marc indicated to the thin young man gesticulating at the group of three who sat in front of him. A long welt ran from his eyebrow, across his cheek and finished under his chin. It was new and angry. Marc lowered his voice. “He was attacked three weeks ago. He got out just in time and managed to get here. He tried leading a regular life but I think he’s happier to be here now.”
“And the others?”
“Jared is new like you.” Marc pointed to the boy who sat in front of David. He didn’t look more than seventeen. “He pretty much can’t control anything he does. Seren’s had to put spells on Jared to stop him breaking stuff. He’s already broken three chairs just by looking at them the wrong way. Aunt Meg was getting pretty pissed.”
“Can you do that? Just put a spell on someone?”
“You’re not supposed to.” Marc frowned and looked thoughtful. “But Seren did discuss it with Jared first and he was pretty embarrassed so he agreed. He can lift the spell anytime he likes; Seren made sure of that. He’s not being forced.”
“What if someone put a spell on you and you didn’t know?” I asked.
“No one should use a spell against another so that they do what the spell caster wants, or can’t... There are severe consequences for that,” Marc finished. He dug at the ground with the toe of his sneaker. With his hands thrust in his pockets and his shaggy hair spilling over his forehead, he could have been discussing a photo shoot, not the perils of illicit magic. He pondered what he said for a moment, then shook his head and continued, nodding at the two girls in the circle. “Christy has been here for a few months and she’s pretty smart. Clara is her sister and struggling a bit but she’s keen and that counts for a lot. They’re all finding their feet here.”
“Did the council know about them?”
“About Jared, yes, and they decided he needed some intensive training, well, away from the regular world. Christy and Clara just turned up one day. They say they didn’t even know why, just that they felt they should be here and the wards that guard this place just let them walk right in.”
I nodded, trying to show that I understood in some way. Marc led me away from the group and around the side of the house.
“So this place is guarded by magic?” I asked like a total newb. It was quite at odds with the image I wanted to project. I was independent, stubborn and self-sufficient. So much for that! Here I was completely reliant on other people.
Marc nodded. “It keeps everyone here safe. Sort of like an early warning signal.” But he didn’t say exactly what it was keeping us safe from.
“I came in fine though. I didn’t have to say a password or anything.” I blushed when Marc laughed.
“Magic recognises magic,” he explained simply.
Étoile sat on a bench with another striking woman. “That’s Seren, her sister,” he said as the pair rose to greet me. Seren rested her hands lightly on my upper arms as she leaned in to kiss me briefly on both cheeks. It seemed they were both a tactile pair and I warmed to her instantly. She had the same slightly pointy, high-cheekboned face as Étoile but with a softer edge, framed with wavy hair that dusted her collarbone. She was a striking dresser too, but where Étoile seemed to favour darker colours, her sister wore a strapless maxi dress in a shade of sherbet orange.
“Étoile has been telling me about you,” Seren said. “It seems you had a very exciting exit from your country.”
“I wish it had been a little less exciting,” I confessed. “Fire bombs and chases don’t do much for my nerves.”
“If it makes you feel better, the fire service were able to put out your fire and your landlady was very pleased with her insurance claim. She’s thinking of retiring to the coast,” said Étoile.
“A little bit,” I admitted. “But how do you know?”
“We keep tabs. Besides, I thought you would want to know so you wouldn’t worry if she had survived or not.”
“I think the old battleaxe could survive anything. I didn’t like her but I’m glad she wasn’t hurt.”
“Hello!” A new voice called from behind us and I noticed Marc stiffen slightly. I turned round to see a woman about my age bound towards us. She stretched out her hand to shake mine in a friendly manner before seeming to surrender and embraced me in a hug instead. “You must be Stella? I’m Kitty Williams.” She nodded at Marc and her smile seemed to fall from her face just a fraction. He gave her a curt nod back.
“Hi, Kitty,” I said.
Kitty, like her name, was as cute as the proverbial button. That is, if buttons exuded sex appeal too. She was small, no more than five two, but tanned and toned with a curvy hourglass shape clad in shorts and a spaghetti-strap top. Bundles of bouncing curls clipped back with girlish bows fell to her shoulders.
“Stella, promise me that you won’t let Étoile and Seren monopolise you. Every other girl has a sister here and I have no one, so, I’m not afraid to say, I’m a little desperate for us to be friends. Say it will be so?” she cajoled.
I couldn’t help but smile at her enthusiasm. “It will be so.”
Étoile and Seren had tipped their heads to one side as if listening to something and then inclined their heads slightly to smile at us. “We have seen,” said Étoile with Seren finishing, “and it will be so.” It was endearing rather than weird and I wondered if they made a habit of finishing each other’s sentences.
“Well, now the psychics have said so,” said Kitty, linking her arm through mine. “It will be so and very glad I am, too. Shall I give you the tour?”
“How much do they see?” I whispered as Kitty shooed Marc away, propelling me beside her before I had a chance to agree. When I looked over my shoulder, Marc gave me a little wave and shook his head.
“Did Étoile not think
to mention it? Probably not! They are quite powerful, both Étoile and Seren, and it all gets amplified the closer they are to each other. They can see the future, just glimpses, of course, but enough to see what will happen.”
“Does everything happen the way they see it?”
“Everything is subject to change,” said Kitty and it took me a moment to recognise that she was mimicking Étoile’s clipped voice before reverting to her own. “They see things the way they are meant to be at that moment in time. Of course, if something changes, some action or intention, then the future shifts too. They see more the closer they are together and it’s a very powerful tool. Right now, they saw us being friends, so unless you turn out to be completely revolting in the next few minutes, I think we can safely assume that we will be.”
“And they can move themselves too. You know ... teleport?” I asked, looking for the right word.
“Yes, though not that far now. They used to be able to shimmer right around the world in the blink of an eye but they are a bit more limited these days.”
“Why’s that?”
“There used to be three of them which made them very powerful as witches and sisters, but with just the two ... although they are strong, it’s a weaker circuit,” Kitty explained.
“Is the other sister here?”
“Oh, no.” Kitty looked shocked. “No, no.” Then she clamped shut and wouldn’t broach the subject again, making me wonder if anyone could tell me more than partial truths.
After a few minutes, I changed tack. “What can you do?” I asked.
“I can do things with the weather,” Kitty said after a moment and then giggled. “I’m like a weather station, I guess. No one has any idea if that is any use or not. I can manipulate things by confusing the air. I am, however, good at spells.”
“As in chanting and rhymes?”
“Oh no, I can’t rhyme. I don’t know why legend has it that witches have to rhyme to cast a spell; can you imagine what a bother that would be? What if I wanted to rhyme something with the word ‘orange’?” Kitty laughed. “David is teaching me spell-casting while Evan figures out what the weather bit means. It must mean something, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to do it, though Aunt Meg says she’s never had a better crop of fruit than since I’ve been here, so at least I’ve come in handy for that.”
My garden tour took no more than half an hour with Kitty pointing out the fruit orchard and a set of white painted, wooden steps that led down to a beach on the other side of the garden. “It’s not private, as such,” said Kitty, “but there are no other houses on this stretch of shore and no one else really comes here so we think of it as ours.”
From there, she took me back towards the house pointing out seating areas here and there and then back inside where I was shown where to find glasses and snacks in the kitchen. “Aunt Meg doesn’t like us to be on ceremony here. Mi casa es su casa and all that.” She showed me the half bathroom downstairs and where to find stationery and spare keys in the hall drawer in case I wanted to go out, though Kitty mentioned there wasn’t much to do in the town beyond a bar, a small library and a few shops and businesses. I didn’t mention Étoile had told me to not leave the property – that just wasn’t cool.
In my room, she showed me where to find spare towels and bed linens and pointed out that she was just across the hall if I wanted anything else. Her name was being called downstairs and she smiled apologetically at me before hopping away to answer it.
Alone again in my room, I collapsed on the window seat and after kicking off my shoes, rested my head on the window. I could just glimpse the sea from my perch and the sight of the waves lapping at the beach was mesmerising. I played with the catch and was surprised that the sash window slid up easily, as if it had been oiled recently, letting in the salty breeze so I could inhale it. I arranged the cushions behind my back and drew up my legs as I looked out at the infinite sea. I thought about all the events of the past couple of days and my new housemates. I wasn’t sure what to make of it all. Everything was so far out of my comfort zone.
A knock at my door interrupted my reverie and I called, “Come in.”
Marc ducked his head around the door. “I came to see if you were okay.”
“I’m good, thank you.”
Marc walked across the room and slid onto the seat with me as I drew back to give him room. He picked up my legs and put them across his lap. Taking one foot, he began to rub it absently.
“So, you’ve met the whole crowd,” he said, kneading my sole as I rested my head against the wall, eyes partially shut to enjoy his familiarity. I wondered which part of me was totally okay with letting him caress my feet. The part of me enjoying it suggested I shut up.
“Yes.”
“They’re an oddball group, but nice and it’ll be good for you to learn here. David’s an excellent teacher, Evan is ... well regarded.”
“What do Étoile and Seren do here?” I asked, my heart giving a strange little leap at Evan’s name. He hadn’t seemed to think much of me and I wasn’t sure if I should feel insulted. It wasn’t like I chose to be here. I was surprised to find myself feeling hurt. “They don’t seem like students.”
“They’re not. They pretty much live here and it’s a good base for them to come and go while they take on their missions. They’re away as often as they are here. We don’t have many witches of their calibre to spare so they help teach occasionally.”
I frowned. “I thought Étoile said there were lots and lots of witches?”
“Yes,” Marc agreed, “but not many with their power. We’re a dying breed.”
I thought about that for a minute. “And what do you do, Marc?” I asked at last.
He pushed his thumbs into the ball of my foot and sighed. “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean just that. I don’t know. I could do stuff when I was little and then, one day, it just went away. I couldn’t do anything anymore. No one knows why.”
“Isn’t that a little strange?” I hadn’t meant magically – I knew from Étoile’s teasing that he hadn’t any magic of his own yet – but I’d let him roll with it.
Marc exhaled through his nose and rested his head back against the wall. “My parents don’t really talk about it but I know they think it’s odd. I think they’re even a little embarrassed; but my father is certain one day it will ping back on just as quickly as it disappeared.” He talked about his magic like it was a faulty light switch. I wondered how long it had taken him to sound so offhand about the missing part of his being.
“Do you want it to come back?”
“It’s not easy,” Marc replied and I knew he had probably spent a long time thinking about it. “When you’re around people who can do all the weird and wonderful things that you should, in theory, be able to do too, it’s a little galling that you’re pretty much a regular guy who has to walk to get places and wait to find out what happens.”
“I imagine there are a lot of people who would like to swap places with you right now.”
Marc smiled. His thumbs massaged the balls of my feet and I could feel the warmth of his hands. “I hadn’t thought of it that way; that my being ordinary was something to be envied.”
“So what do you do instead?”
“I run around after people, making sure everyone has what they need, coordinate people, general logistics, that sort of thing.”
Marc reached for me and I swivelled on the window seat so that I was sitting in between his legs as he drew me backwards to rest my head on his chest, wrapping his arms around me. He rested his chin lightly on my head and I wondered if he was smelling my hair. Thank goodness it was clean. He breathed deeply and my lungs rose and fell in line with his.
“I’m sorry you’ve had to go through such a shitty time,” he said, breaking the brief silence between us.
I tried to look on the bright side, the same way Marc had with his lack of magic. “Well, I wasn’t having the greate
st time anyway,” I said, trying to show him that I really didn’t mind. That it was okay to have my whole life uprooted, tipped on its head, shook around a bit and then replanted a continent away. “Getting the box of stuff from my parents was pretty wonderful. It’s about one thousand times more than I’ve ever had of theirs.”
“You don’t remember them at all?”
“Fleeting memories here and there, like snapshots, but I don’t know if they are real memories or just stuff I saw on television or got from my foster parents. So, no, I don’t remember them at all. I was very little when they disappeared and I was found.”
“That’s sad.”
“Yes,” I agreed. “It is. I wish I had known them and all about this world but they must have had their reasons to hide me before they disappeared.”
“You think they’ll come back?”
“No.” It was depressing to admit it but I had never thought they would come back. I’d always been certain of that. “I’m sure they are dead. Otherwise they would have found me by now. They were declared dead years ago. Steven gave me the paperwork.”
“What do you think happened to them?”
I had speculated about that for a long time during many lonely nights in my childhood. If my parents had died in an accident, they wouldn’t have felt the need to hide me with strangers. Besides, someone would have found car wreckage or bodies, or something to indicate what had happened. Something had to have been after them, perhaps the same people who had chased me only weeks ago, and that something would have been irreversible. I breathed and my voice, after so many years of speculation was steady. “I think someone, or something, killed them both.”
“Life sucks.”
“Not as much as death.” There wasn’t much turning back from that.
Marc wrapped his arms closer around me and I snuggled into his warmth, feeling for all the world that I could drift off into a pleasant nap, feeling safe and cosseted in his arms while the sea breeze tickled us. The last few days had really wiped me out and I was looking forward to getting my energy levels back to normal.
It was with a jolt that a knock stirred me. Apparently, we both dozed because the sun had dimmed a little and it was turning cold. Marc must have pulled a blanket over us because our legs were covered with a pink and grey checked wool cover. The knock sounded again and I blurrily called out, “Come in” as I rubbed my eyes with the backs of my knuckles to wake myself up.
It was Evan who opened the door and scanned the room; when he eyed me, he scowled. “Meg sent me to tell you dinner was ready.” He sounded none too happy about it and glared at Marc who was rolling his shoulders in small circles but otherwise not moving. “I didn’t realise you weren’t alone,” he said somewhat stiffly.
“I’ll be down in a minute,” I promised. “I won’t keep you all waiting.”
“I doubt anyone will wait.” Evan muttered, shutting the door with a bang.
“Is he always so charming?” I asked, shuffling myself away from Marc and standing up, my sleepy legs not quite so enthusiastic. I wondered if I should feel embarrassed that I had curled up and dozed off with him; it seemed a rather intimate thing to do with a guy I had known all of two days.
“Always,” scoffed Marc and I wondered if they had some sort of history.
I stretched and went to pull on a cardigan. The sea air was cool and since I didn’t know what temperature they liked to keep the house, I didn’t want to end up shivering at the dining table. Marc pulled the sash closed and folded the blanket on top of the cushions.
“I can’t believe I fell asleep,” he muttered, and I could feel him watching me.
“Me either. It’s been a funny few days and my sleep is all over the place.”
“You’ll get used to the different time zone soon. And they do say sea air is good for you.” He opened my door and gestured to leave. “Shall we?”
I followed Marc downstairs and he pointed out which room was his as we passed the closed door off the hallway. Then I followed him into the kitchen where everyone was seated around the big table. Big dishes of lasagne steamed in front of the assembled guests. There was a glass bowl filled with salad leaves in several shades of green and another plate piled with slices of garlic bread. Pitchers of orange juice and water sat at each end of the table and I could smell coffee too.
Marc and I took the two remaining seats, next to each other and he held my chair while I sat, before sliding into his chair and taking a plate from Meg who was serving. She ladled a huge helping onto my plate and I inhaled the delicious fresh meat sauce and bubbling, cheese topping. I checked to see if everyone else was eating the garlic bread before I took a slice, because I didn’t want to be the one that everyone avoided later. That would make life as the new girl awkward; not that I wasn’t used to that. Perhaps it was time to turn a new leaf, I hoped and the idea of making friends gave me a little surge of warmth.
Having filled everyone’s plates, Meg was busily filling glasses and handing out mugs of steaming coffee.
“How do you like the house, Stella?” she asked, setting a cup at my right hand and pointing to the sugar bowl.
I swallowed my mouthful of lasagne. “It’s beautiful.”
Meg beamed. “Why, thank you. My family have owned it for going on one-hundred-and-fifty years now. Thankfully, it’s a lot more modern now due to the more recent additions.” She poured coffee into Marc’s cup until the pot was almost drained then walked back across the kitchen to put it by the sink. For an old lady, she walked lightly with uncharacteristic grace. “It’s too big for just me though, so, once again, I’m very happy to have you all here.”
Her words were met with hearty endorsement and I joined in as the glasses were held aloft in toast to Meg and clinked together. She flapped her hands at us to stop, but I could tell she was a little thrilled. The joviality quickly subsided as the food was devoured. I vacuumed up my helping and accepted a small second, not too worried whether I was coming across as piggish. I was hungry, tired, and mentally over stimulated with all the changes in my life. I felt good and ready to fall asleep for a very long time rather than resuming the series of catnaps I’d been relegated to. I refused the ice cream dessert and Kitty proposed watching a film which led to a long discussion over choices.
“Practical Magic,” suggested Christy but her sister, Clara, shivered and replied, “Don’t you remember the time that Gran accidentally brought that dead guy back to life? Too close for comfort.” I was so not going to ask about that.
“Something less realistic then,” said Meg, her mouth twitching into the barest smile.
“Mission Impossible?” suggested Jared.
“I’ve watched it five times and I still don’t get it. How did Ethan piece it all together?” I asked before clamping my mouth shut. I’d forgotten myself; maybe they didn’t want the newbie’s input.
“Ugh, me too,” sighed Kitty, putting my fears to rest. “And don’t get me started on two and three.”
“The singing Buffy episode? I have the score so we can sing along,” said Clara and I guessed the boxset on the shelf must have been hers. Her enthusiasm was quashed quickly with a chorus of groans.
Eventually, a new comedy release was not so much agreed upon, as not entirely rejected by the table, with Evan shrugging his shoulders in a “don’t care” way. He had barely said anything throughout the meal but I’d seen him shoot a glance in my direction when he thought I wasn’t looking.
“Can I help you clear away?” I asked Meg.
“Thank you, dear. If you’ll just stack the plates in the dishwasher, well, that will do nicely.”
I was glad to have a job to do to save me feeling out of place and Kitty quickly joined me in clearing the table as Meg foiled the leftovers.
“So, you and Marc?” said Kitty when there was just the two of us left. She wasn’t as chipper as she had been earlier and I wondered if she had had a long day too. “What’s going on between you?”
“Marc and me?” I
replied sounding like an echo. Maybe Evan had said something about us being curled up together in my room? I opened the dishwasher and stooped to stack it. “There’s nothing between us. We only met a few days ago.”
“Oh, I thought you two might have been ... dating or something.”
“No. He’s nice and I like him. He’s attractive but we’re not dating.” I rolled a scenario through my mind. I liked him and trusted him and he would make a good boyfriend, I decided. Not that I was looking for one. I blushed as I remembered the kiss. The very nice kiss.
“I see.” Kitty gave herself a shake and went to retrieve the glassware from the table. “Do you want to, you know, date him?”
“I don’t know.” I was getting a little uncomfortable with being grilled about a man I barely knew by a woman I’d just met, even though I’d already had Kitty pegged as forthright. “I haven’t really thought about it. I don’t even know if he’s dating anyone.”
“He isn’t.” Kitty’s voice was quiet and I looked up at her from where I was stacking the last plate. Ahh. Maybe Kitty had a thing for Marc.
“Anyway, I’m not really that into dating,” I said quickly to fill the silence. That was technically true anyway. My last date had been months ago and I’d soon decided I’d rather not bother if that was what was on offer.
“Have you known each other for a long time?”
“Forever practically. We grew up together, went to the same school. My family knows his, yada, yada.”
Étoile ducked her head around the door. She had a small plastic folder she held to her chest. “If you’re finished, Stella, I need to go over a couple of things with you. I’ll be quick. I’m sure you want to chill out with the movie too, get to know everyone a little better.”
Kitty waved me away. I wiped my hands on a kitchen cloth and sat at the table with Étoile. She opened the folder and spread a few things out. “I know you have a British driver’s licence but you can’t use it long term here, so here’s your American one.” She pushed it towards me – my picture was already on it.
“How did you get this?”
Étoile shrugged. “That’s not important. We closed your bank account and transferred the money into a new account for you. There’s your card and statement.”
I looked at it and raised my eyebrows. The figure on the opening balance was far higher than what I had in my current checking and savings combined. Like, ridiculously high. “There must have been a mistake.”
“No mistake. Steven transferred cash from your parents’ estate. He said there was a letter in the stuff he gave you explaining everything.”
I recalled the letter. I hadn’t read it yet and made up my mind to open it later.
“They can’t have left me this much.”
“They did and Steven has looked after their assets so it’s all yours.”
I traced my name in the little letters on the card. “I thought I wasn’t supposed to have anything traceable.”
“From your old life, yes, but this is new and the things we set up ... well, you won’t have a problem. You can start your life afresh.”
“Friends in high places?”
“Something like that.” Étoile was offhand. “You already have your passport so I think that’s it.”
“What do I tell people? I don’t have an American accent.”
“The truth should suffice if you stick to the facts. You had an American dad, he died early and you grew up in England and now you’re trying out life here.” It sounded so neat and succinct the way Étoile explained and I nodded. Étoile slipped the cards and paper back into the folder and pushed it over to me. “Now we’re done with that little business, we’ve got film night to look forward to. I didn’t vote for it, so if it’s terrible, you can’t blame me. Come on.”
The sofas were fully occupied when we joined the rest of the household, so we pulled floor cushions and nestled on the floor. I stretched out my legs and leaned against the arm of Kitty’s armchair and she patted me on the head like a favoured pet while David fiddled with the DVD player and the opening credits loomed on the screen.
Whether my companions were lost in the film or in their own thoughts, I couldn’t tell but it did give me the opportunity to look over them. When I looked at Evan, careful to barely adjust my head, I found him already observing me and I held his gaze a long moment before he returned to the book he had opened. He seemed to have been searching my face, though I couldn’t decipher what for, but I noticed he didn’t turn the page for some time even though he seemed lost in concentration.
When I looked away, I saw Marc was watching me too, so I gave him a little smile and refocused my eyes on the screen, though my thoughts were on Evan. I couldn’t help wondering what he might have to teach me, and why I had been lumped with him when he seemed so openly hostile to me.
I knew one thing though.
I was desperate to learn. As much as I appreciated everything that was being done for me, I wanted my life and I wasn’t prepared to just be kept indefinitely. The only way I was going to get some semblance of my life back – it was clear to me now – was to be able to control my magic.
Illicit Magic (Book 1, Stella Mayweather Series) Page 5
