Awakening (Birth of Magic #1)

by P. T. Dilloway

  The baby was a nearly perfect houseguest throughout her stay with me. She didn’t cry during the night, not even when her diaper was wet or full. Jasmine said that she sometimes checked on the baby in the middle of the night to make sure the child was still alive. “She is such a well-behaved child,” Jasmine told me. “I can’t believe you would give her up.”

  “She’s just being stubborn—like me,” I said. I desperately wanted to run into the nursery without the blindfold to look upon her, but I resisted. “I’m doing what’s best for you.”

  Jasmine was too good of a servant to protest this too strenuously. She was also a good and loyal friend through those months. She loved the baby like her own child; she loved my daughter better than I did. But Jasmine didn’t understand who and what I was and what I needed to protect my daughter from. A life with me wouldn’t be any kind of proper life for her.

  I wore the blindfold one last time the night of the meeting. I let the baby nurse a last time while I stroked her hair and explained what would happen now. “You’re going to a very special place. A wonderful place. You’ll have a real mama and papa there, who will take care of you and give you whatever you want. You’ll have a cat and a dog and maybe even your own horse. You’ll be happy and safe and you’ll never have to worry about monsters in your closet or under your bed. I promise.”

  I let myself hug her, which she must have taken as a sign that something bad was happening. She began screaming as I handed her to Jasmine. “Make sure you dress her up nice and warm,” I said, though I was sure Jasmine knew this already.

  “I will, Madame Joliet.”

  We went over the plan after she finished dressing the child. Souray and the new parents would be waiting in front of Notre Dame Cathedral in a carriage with the windows covered. Jasmine would make the delivery so that I wouldn’t risk seeing the new parents. As for me, I would follow them to make sure Souray kept up his part of the deal. “Just remember that you’re carrying my daughter’s life in your hands,” I said, though again she knew this already.

  “I will protect her as if she were my own.”

  “Thank you. When you get back, there will be a bag of gold for you, enough for you and your children to go back to Cairo and live if you want.”

  “I want to stay with you, Madame Joliet—”

  “That’s not possible. I’m leaving tonight. Somewhere far away.”

  “But—”

  “I have to go.” I put a hand on Jasmine’s shoulder. “You’ve been a good friend. There’s no way I can ever repay you for everything you’ve done for me and my daughter.”

  We hugged and said our final goodbyes. Then Jasmine took the baby and left. I dressed quickly in my old monster hunting clothes with my jacket. I checked the crossbow to make sure it was strung properly in case I needed to use it. If Souray tried anything, he was going to be in for a nasty surprise.

  Jasmine and the baby were easy enough to follow; I just had to listen for my daughter’s cries. I stayed up on the rooftops as much as possible, levitating myself across the gaps. Through my nightcrystal lenses I could see Jasmine hurrying along with the baby pressed to her chest. She had taken care to wrap the baby up tight enough that I still couldn’t see the little girl’s face. I could only hear her anguished screams.

  I’d been past Notre Dame, though never inside the building. It was easy enough to find a perch among the Gothic architecture; I squatted amongst a couple of gargoyles and looked down by the front steps. The carriage was waiting there, with Souray on the outside. I couldn’t see inside to make sure there was a husband and wife in there, but I was certain I could know the truth from Jasmine’s reaction.

  She came loping along a few minutes later. My daughter had stopped crying, perhaps finally realizing how futile it was. Or she might have simply tired herself out. In either case, she was silent as Jasmine approached Souray. My whole body tensed as I waited, one hand on the crossbow, ready to put a bolt through his scrawny throat.

  As expected, Jasmine didn’t give the baby to him. She lifted one of the curtains over the carriage windows and leaned inside. I couldn’t hear anything from my vantage point, but she was probably talking to the parents, making sure they were on the level. When she must have been satisfied, she pulled back. I saw that her hands were empty now, hanging limp at her sides. She took a few steps back from the carriage. Souray exchanged a few words with her and then climbed into the carriage.

  I watched the carriage roll away with my daughter inside, taking her from my life. A part of me wanted to follow them, to get her back, but I clung to one of the gargoyles, keeping myself rooted there. She would be safe now. She would be able to grow up happy in a normal environment. She would have a father and a mother who would love her.

  When I looked down again, I saw Jasmine looking up. I doubted she could see me, but she must have known I was there. She gave a little wave to say goodbye and then began trudging back towards the apartment.

  I waited until she was gone to vanish myself from there to the docks. From there it would be a long trip to America, about as far from my daughter as I could get. But it wasn’t far enough. She had found me anyway. A hundred twenty years later and she had found me. She just didn’t know it—not yet. But soon she would and I would try to find a way to make up for lost time.

  Chapter 23

  I got to my feet, wiping at my eyes. I had done enough crying and enough running all these years. It was time to find Celia—and Ethan. If I could tap into that part of her that had loved him for the last four years, I might be able to convince her to free him and come with me.

  I wasn’t sure what we’d do after that. The three of us would disappear somewhere, hide out from the Chairwoman, the Nazis, and the coven. We’d start all over again, a clean slate. I would try to make amends for what I’d done to her and she would do the same for Ethan.

  The biggest problem would first be in finding them. The trail by now had gone completely cold. Celia would probably take him to a Nazi installation, but I had no way of knowing where that might be. I couldn’t just start vanishing myself around Germany, hoping to get lucky.

  Or could I? There was only one Nazi base I’d visited in person: Neuschwanstein Castle. They had probably closed the place down after my last visit, but they might have left some clues behind. Or I could go visit my old pal Greta Bitterhauf at the inn nearby. She or someone else there might have some information I could use. It was a long shot, but at the moment I didn’t have anything else.

  I vanished myself into the castle’s kitchen. As expected, there was no one there. The fires were cold, as were the stoves. From the dust on the counters, no one had been here in a few days, probably not since I’d infiltrated the place.

  I reached into my jacket for the crossbow. The kitchen was empty, but there could always be guards still around to protect the valuables. It wouldn’t do to get careless and wind up with a bullet in my heart.

  I crept along the halls, stopping at every doorway to listen for signs of any inhabitants. From what I could tell, there was probably nothing bigger than a rat still living here. I kept the crossbow ready anyway; I wasn’t about to let my guard down yet.

  Finding the room where Alexis’s granddaughters had eaten with the Nazis, I slipped inside. The tables and chairs were still there, but there wasn’t any food. Not so much as an empty wrapper or can to indicate that anyone had been here for a while.

  It was probably a dead end. It was stupid of me to think they would have left anything useful behind. These people—especially the Chairwoman—weren’t stupid. The only surprise was they hadn’t burned the place to the ground to completely wipe their tracks.

  I wound up in the throne room. It still bore the scorch marks on the walls and floors from my Fireball spell. The machines were all gone. There was nothing left that might be able to help me. I’d have to go down to the village and see if anyone there knew where the Nazis might have gone.

  I turned around just in time for a shovel to
hit me square in the face. I might be a witch, but I was as vulnerable to blunt objects as anyone else. I collapsed on my back, my head swimming. The last thing I saw were Alexis’s granddaughters standing over me, Lorain brandishing the shovel. “Should I hit her again?” she asked.

  Vivien, the oldest of the three, shook her head. “She’s had enough.”

  Right on cue, I passed out.

  ***

  When I woke up, for a moment my foggy mind thought the blond girl beside me was Alexis. I was about to tell her what a nightmare I’d been having when I saw the red walls trimmed with gold—not anything like any bedroom I was familiar with. That kicked my brain back into drive.

  Taking stock of my situation, I realized I was lying on a bed. A very nice bed, with thick covers and a mattress probably three feet off the floor. I was wearing only my tunic and leggings; they had taken my jacket. My weapons were gone as well.

  “Don’t try using magic,” the blond girl said. I recognized her voice from Florence. Bernice, the one who had seemed so concerned about Alexis.

  I was about to ask her how she planned to stop me from using magic when I looked to my right and saw my wrist tied to the bedpost with a length of rope—and a charm made from my hair. If I could move my hand, I’d probably find out someone had given me an impromptu haircut. “Nicely done,” I growled.

  “I’m sorry, Great-Aunt Stephanie.”

  “So you know who I am. And you’re Alexis’s granddaughter Bernice, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Where are those other two twerps? The ones who sapped me with the shovel?”

  “I’m not supposed to tell you anything.”

  “Why? It’s not like I’m going anywhere, am I?”

  “You might. The Chairwoman says we’re not to trust you.”

  “Where is she? I might want to file a complaint about this.”

  “I don’t know. None of us know where she is unless she wants us to know.”

  “Who is she?”

  Bernice shrugged. “I don’t know.”

  “Who does know? Vivien or Lorain?”

  “No.”

  “My daughter?”

  “Who?”

  “Celia. Is that her real name?”

  She shrugged again. “As far as I know. I didn’t know she was your daughter.”

  “I doubt she knows it either.”

  “Oh.”

  I tried to settle comfortably on the bed, but there really isn’t a comfortable position when your hands are tied up. “So what’s your story? Last I heard, Alexis buried you after a carriage accident.”

  “I shouldn’t say. You’re a witch.”

  “Come on, we’re family, aren’t we?”

  “The Chairwoman says we aren’t to believe in those old notions of family anymore. She says we’re all new people now. Reborn.”

  “Reborn? They give you what they gave Alexis?”

  “No!” Bernice’s face turned red as if she were about to cry. “Is Grandmamma all right?”

  “She’s fine. We were able to brew a cure. In a few days she’ll be herself again.”

  “That’s good.”

  “Is it? I thought you didn’t care about family. Not even your grandmamma.”

  “I don’t,” she said, but she looked away. I hadn’t spent a lot of time with Alexis’s granddaughters, but I’d spent enough to know Bernice was the nicest of the three. The other two might have gotten their looks from Alexis’s side of the family, but they didn’t have the same temperament, especially that spoiled brat Vivien. If she were in the room I wouldn’t have a chance of talking my way out of this, but Bernice would be more amenable.

  “Your grandmother was devastated after you died. Why didn’t you try and contact her? Even if you couldn’t see her, you could have at least sent a letter to say you were still alive. She deserved that, didn’t she? After all the cookies she baked for you and all the boo-boos she kissed.”

  “I couldn’t tell her. The Chairwoman—”

  “Your grandmother was the one who convinced your father to let you go to medical school. She bribed every official from Marseilles to Normandy to make it happen. That’s how much she loved you. And here you’ve been alive for a hundred years and you didn’t even send her a postcard.” I turned my head away and let out a dramatic sigh of disappointment.

  When I heard her sobbing, I knew I’d hit the mark. More than anything, Bernice had wanted to be a doctor since the time she could walk. That wasn’t allowed in France back then and even now it was barely tolerated. If not for Alexis’s support—and money—Bernice never would have been accepted.

  “I’m sorry,” Bernice said. “But you don’t understand. The Chairwoman saved my life. I wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for her.”

  I turned to face her again and raised an eyebrow. “What did she do?”

  “Well, it’s hard for me to remember. I do remember the carriage flipping over. I was lying on the ground. Then she was there, kneeling beside me. At first I thought she was an angel, but she didn’t look like the paintings at church.”

  “What did she look like?”

  “An old woman with spectacles. No wings or halo or white robe. She knelt down next to me and she took out a little vial. She said something to me, but I couldn’t understand what. I fell asleep, sure that this woman was going to poison me.

  “When I woke up I was in a house, in bed. She sat beside my bed and that’s when she told me who she was. She said that if I worked for her, she would keep giving me potions so that I could stay young and beautiful forever.”

  “And what sort of work did she have you do?”

  “Me? Not a lot. I help her take care of the others and do research.” Bernice looked down at the floor, her face turning dark. “Vivien and Lorain have killed people. And other things, terrible things.”

  “What about Celia? What’s she done?”

  “I shouldn’t tell you.”

  “The Chairwoman tell you not to?”

  “No. You wouldn’t like it.”

  “Try me.”

  Bernice looked into my eyes. Tears ran down her cheeks as she said, “Celia is the Chairwoman’s top agent. She’s sort of a legend among the rest of us. Vivien is terribly jealous of her. Do you remember the duke who died in Serbia?”

  “The one who started the Great War?”

  “Yes. She killed him. She blamed it on someone else of course. And that man in America, the one with the hat—”

  “Lincoln? She assassinated Lincoln?”

  “Yes.”

  I closed my eyes and tried not to sob the way Bernice had. I had thought my daughter might be a bad egg, guilty of youthful transgressions, but she wasn’t. She was a monster. A soulless, cold-blooded murderer who had unleashed hell on at least two continents, if not more. Millions dead from the last war and unspeakable damage inflicted on America after Lincoln’s assassination. I could only ask, “Why?”

  “The Chairwoman told her to.”

  It was becoming clear that my plan was terribly flawed. I couldn’t bring Celia back; she was already lost. To get Ethan back I was going to have to choose between him and her. One of my friends was going to die.

  First I had to get out of here and find them. “Where is she going? Where’s she taking Ethan?”

  “That boy with you?”

  “Yes. Where is she taking him?”

  “Berlin.”

  ***

  Once Bernice burned the charm she’d made from my hair, I felt the familiar tingle of magic begin in my feet. I lay on the bed for a few minutes even after Bernice cut the ropes holding me down to gather my strength. “Where are Vivien and Lorain?”

  “Still in the throne room.”

  “Do they have a radio?”

  “Yes. Just a small one to contact the guards in the village.”

  I nodded. “We’ll have to make sure they can’t use it then.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’ll have to knock them out
and tie them up. Otherwise they can radio their Nazi friends. All of Berlin will know we’re coming.”

  “Oh. But I couldn’t do that. Not to them.”

  “Leave it to me.” I patted my hair, trying to feel how much of it was missing. They’d chopped to about chin level, which meant they had enough for a couple more charms. “They got more charms?”

  “Yes. We each have one.”

  “The Chairwoman teach you about those?”

  “Yes.”

  “How much else did she tell you about magic?”

  “A lot. She gave us a book of Grandmamma’s potions so that we could make our own. She told us about spells, but we can’t use them. Not yet.”

  “Yet?”

  Bernice looked down at the floor again and blushed. She was probably deciding whether to go ahead and tell me this or not. In the end she must have decided that she’d already told me enough to hang her, so there wouldn’t be any harm spilling a few more beans. “She says when she finds the birthplace of magic then we’ll all be full witches like you. We’ll form our own coven, a better one.”

  “What do they want with Ethan then?”

  “I don’t know. She didn’t tell me that. I’m not sure she’s even told Celia.”

  I shivered at this, hating to think my daughter was right-hand woman to someone as vile as this Chairwoman. How could Celia believe these lies? How could she murder people for them? How could she betray her friends?

  No, Celia wasn’t my friend. She wasn’t Ethan’s either. Anyone who had done the things Celia had wouldn’t blink at stabbing her friends in the back. Her heart was as black as any demon’s I’d ever killed.

  The tingle that had begun in my legs had worked its way up the rest of my body. My magic had returned, not that it would matter. Vivien and Lorain had charms and even if they didn’t, the Chairwoman had some way of keeping her people safe from magic, as long as they weren’t under the influence of it already, as Celia had been on the train to Boston.

  I would have to do it the old-fashioned way.

  ***

  I left Bernice in the bedroom. She wasn’t a fighter, especially not against her cousins. They had always been as close as sisters and I could tell that hadn’t changed in the last hundred years.