by Shannon Page
Sebastian was nodding. “Yeah, that makes sense.” I could see he wasn’t entirely convinced but was thinking about it. He admired Dr. Andromedus as much as…well, as I once had. And maybe could again.
“Anyway,” I said pointedly, glancing yet again at the lab bench before me.
“Right.” Sebastian gave me an apologetic smile. “I’ll let you get back to work.”
“Thanks. And hey—let’s get coffee some time, okay?”
He grinned. “I’d like that.”
I had barely managed to find my focus once again when I felt the telltale tingle of an ætheric message. Callie?
Hi, Mom, I answered her. How are you feeling?
She had been one of the victims of the sickness supposedly inflicted by Flavius Winterheart, but she was relatively young and in good health, so she was recovering.
Great! Almost a hundred percent.
I’m glad to hear that. What’s up?
There was a brief pause. I knew better than to try to get back to what I was doing. I leaned against the bench, letting my hand rest on my belly. Did I feel the baby moving? Probably not.
It’s been too long since I gave a luncheon party, Mom finally answered. Are you free tomorrow?
Yes, I said at once. Whether I was actually free or not, I would make myself free. What time?
One-thirty. See you then!
I worked another two hours, but never really found my stride. Whether it was pregnancy-brain, regular distraction, or some problem with the homunculi, I couldn’t tell.
I didn’t even manage to sneak any extra samples home.
Oh well. I’d try again another time.
I showed up at my parents’ grand Pacific Heights home a few minutes early. Elnor followed me on the ley line. She had grown increasingly independent with this as my pregnancy progressed. Time was when she’d refuse to use her own magic for ley travel at all, forcing me to carry her. Now she hopped on the line as if it were nothing, though she still sneezed five or six times when we emerged on the street corner.
Familiar cats are to regular cats as witchkind is to humankind: superficially similar, yet essentially different. Their lines are bred from normal, mundane cats, reinforced for any magical tendencies and abilities—just like witchkind had been at the outset. I’m not sure why the cat strains haven’t become more pure and attenuated like ours have. As far as I know, witches have been breeding cats this way as long as they’ve been breeding themselves. And yet even today, two regular magic-less felines could easily birth a litter with magical powers, while more than half of familiar-crossed litters come out magically null.
Cats are just more stubborn than us, I guess.
We walked up the tidy brick pathway to the front door. Mom had left the house wards down, something she only did if she was having a large enough group to make the ask-and-enter ritual cumbersome. (Not to mention that a group that large could join forces to protect the house from anything the world was likely to throw at it.)
Even so, I rang the doorbell and waited to be invited in.
Mom herself came to the door, and drew me into a warm hug. “Callie! You look marvelous. I’ve never seen you glow so much.”
“I always thought that was a figure of speech,” I said as I disengaged and shrugged out of my sweater.
Mom hung it on the elegant hall tree, then turned and took my arm. “But you can see it yourself, can’t you?”
I let her lead me down the hall. I could hear a party full of voices in the dining room, but couldn’t pick out who was there, exactly. More guests than I’d expected, to be sure. “I can, yes. My magic has gotten…fizzy, maybe. Strong, but also more granular.”
“Exactly!” She beamed at me.
Of course, much of the new strength of my magic was coming from Gregorio’s obnoxious golden ring. But Mom didn’t need to know that; it would just make her fret.
“Here we are!” she sang out to the gathered crowd as we turned and stepped into the dining room.
The big table was pushed to the wall, with a sumptuous buffet set out on it. This left room for the probably two dozen witches and handful of warlocks who were gathered. Most of the witches were friends of my mom’s, while the warlocks were Elders and colleagues of my father’s.
I know my parents thought they were terribly progressive, staying together for love and all, but they sure hewed to the old gender-based divisions.
Most everyone turned and at least nodded politely at me before resuming their conversations. My dad smiled warmly and stepped toward me, setting an empty glass on the buffet table to free his arms for a hug.
“Lucas, please,” my mom murmured at him as she picked up the glass, wiped the ring it left, and handed it to a maid whose name I didn’t know. We never had household help when I was a witchlet living at home. Mom had begun hiring them ten or fifteen years ago. She’d said she wanted more time and energy to work on her tarot studies. Mostly, it seemed to me, she’d enjoyed a life of leisure.
I’d challenged her about this recently, just as she’d challenged me to take the tarot more seriously. I couldn’t see that either of these challenges had ended well for us: with Mom in the hospital, and me…still without my best friend, or any satisfying answers about her demise.
The maid moved unobtrusively around the room, collecting empty glasses and plates, replenishing the buffet. I wondered where Mom kept finding new ones. And why they kept quitting.
My thoughts were interrupted before they could even get started. “Calendula,” my father said, still beaming down at me. “You are looking so well.”
“Thanks, Dad.” I smiled back at him. It was rare to find him at home on a workday, but this was clearly a work function. At least three-quarters of the Council of Elders were present.
Including, I saw with dismay, Gregorio Andromedus.
The ancient warlock caught my eye from across the room, nodded courteously, and returned to his conversation.
Well, I couldn’t avoid him forever, though I’d certainly been trying to. I took a deep breath and turned my attention to the buffet table. “Mom!” I said, with only partially feigned enthusiasm. “This is an amazing spread.”
“I wanted to make sure I made something for everyone—including you.” She snaked a hand around my widening waist as she turned toward the food that she almost certainly had not made herself. Dad patted my arm and stepped away to greet another newcomer. “I remember being pregnant. One’s appetites get a little strange.”
“I’m mostly past that now,” I assured her. “Instead, the baby is starting to squish my stomach. I feel starving and then three bites later, I’m stuffed.”
Mom laughed. “I remember that too.” She filled a plate with delicacies and handed it to me. “Here—your favorites.”
It was true, these were things I particularly enjoyed—meatballs, strong cheese, dark seedless grapes—but at the moment, nothing appealed to me. “Thanks,” I said, taking the plate with a grateful smile. “I think I’ll find a chair.”
“Don’t forget to stop at the bar. I’ve made a fresh batch of elderflower wine.”
Ironically, I knew that Mom had indeed brewed the wine with her own hands, her own magic. Using flowers grown in her own garden, either fresh or preserved. Part of me wished I could have some, but the rest of me thought it sounded awful.
Thank goodness for the wisdom of the body.
“Oh, that’s great,” I said as I stepped away from her, pretending to head for the bar set up in the far corner (staffed by another maid I didn’t know) but really just looking for a quiet place to sit down for a moment.
There was a pass-through room off the dining room, not really a formal butler’s pantry, more just a large space between this room and the kitchen to provide distance from the kitchen’s noises and odors. During parties, it usually filled up with people, but I was grateful to see that no one had wandered into it yet.
I sat down on the little divan under a high stained-glass window and began nibbling
at my food. It was the honest truth, what I’d told Mom: I couldn’t remember the last time I’d eaten a big meal.
And I still had months more of this to go…months during which things would only get worse, not better.
I took another deep breath, sending a silent wish to my baby that she should let me take in some sustenance. It’s for your good as well as mine, I thought.
Elnor turned up, nose twitching pointedly as she gazed up at my plate, appearing from wherever she’d eeled off to when we arrived. Not to visit Mom’s familiar; Mom had never replaced Pixel when the old cat had moved on to the Beyond decades ago. Witches aren’t required to keep familiars, of course, but this was yet more evidence that Mom didn’t intend to spend any of her time doing serious magic.
Oh well. It was her life. She got to make her own choices in how to spend it.
I had a mouth full of meatball when a shadow fell over my plate. Even Elnor, happily munching her own little bite, hadn’t heard the warlock step into the room.
“Gregorio,” I said, after I’d managed to swallow.
He gave a polite nod and took a seat on the other side of the small room. “You are looking well, Calendula Isadora.” It was a statement, but it held a hint of a question.
I nodded, wishing my heart rate would settle back down, keeping my face calm. “Yes. Everything is just fine.”
A smile ghosted across his face, gone almost before it appeared. “I am glad to hear that.” Then he gazed at me. By the intensity in his ancient eyes, I knew he was scanning me magically. I sat still, not fighting it, not reacting in any way. After a minute, his eyes softened as his focus relaxed. “Yes, all appears to be proceeding as it should.”
I took a careful breath. “I am doing everything that has been…recommended,” I said. Still struggling to keep all emotion out of my voice.
Not that I was fooling him. That little flicker of a smile touched his eyes this time. He was far too suave and self-controlled to openly sneer at me, but he was enjoying his power over me.
I hadn’t thought it was possible to feel any more uncomfortable than I already did. Surprise, surprise.
“I am glad to hear that,” he repeated, and nodded sagely.
Elnor sat very still under my feet, but I could feel her energy. She was picking up on my emotions, though she understood that, while this man was making me unhappy, he was not a threat that she should attack with her claws and teeth.
At least, I hoped that’s where her fuzzy brain was going. My mom’s luncheon party did not need a catfight, even a one-sided one.
I smiled politely at Gregorio, waiting for him to say what he’d really come back here to say, or to leave. The silence stretched on. If it made him uncomfortable, he didn’t show it.
Well, he was eight hundred years old. His time sense was clearly on a different scale than mine.
Finally, he cleared his throat and his eyes sharpened a bit. “Calendula, I notice that you have continued your biological research. And that you were at the clinic’s laboratory yesterday.”
I nodded, not at all surprised that he would know this. “Yes, I see no reason to give up my work.” I said the words blandly, but we both knew what was behind them. “My daughter is not due for some months yet, and I am in full possession of my strength and faculties.”
Gregorio gave a well-practiced chuckle. “Oh, of course you are, that is plain to see.”
More silence reigned for another minute or two. This time, I caved. “And I wouldn’t want to get bored, just sitting around the house.”
“No.” He leaned forward slightly. Coming to the point, at last?
I blinked at him, waiting.
He said, “I regret that I did not have the opportunity to look over your work while you were there. Perhaps I could have been of assistance.”
“It was just a few assays, using blood samples Dr. Fallon provided for me. With, I assume, your permission and knowledge.”
His eyes narrowed at the word blood, but I ignored that. I wasn’t doing blood magic. I wouldn’t be so reckless, not in a lab established and run by Gregorio.
Not anywhere, for that matter, and certainly not when I was pregnant. But, despite what he so clearly wanted me to believe, this man was not the boss of me. I would make him spell it out, if he truly wanted to accuse me of working forbidden magic.
“Of course,” he said, nodding. “It’s only—”
Our tense but polite standoff was cut short by Jacobus, one of my father’s colleagues, a middle-aged warlock—only two or three hundred years old—who stepped into the passageway where Gregorio and I sat. “Oh!” Jacobus exclaimed. “Dr. Andromedus, I am so sorry, I did not mean to interrupt.” He nodded deeply to Gregorio, almost bowing, as he shuffled a few steps backward. As if not daring to turn his back on royalty.
Gregorio waved his hand dismissively and favored Jacobus with a kindly smile. “Please, young sir, you are not interrupting anything. My protégé and I were merely chatting. You are most welcome to join us.”
I took the opportunity to get to my feet, holding up my empty plate as an excuse, and when had I eaten all that food? I cast a suspicious glance down at Elnor, who kept near my ankles. “If you’ll excuse me,” I said to Gregorio.
He nodded, barely frowning as Jacobus took my seat. I had almost escaped when I heard Gregorio’s voice behind me. “Oh, Calendula, I almost forgot. Jeremiah will be calling on you soon.”
I froze in my tracks. Calling on me? I turned around. “Jeremy? Is he back from the Old Country?”
“He is expected any day. Friday at the latest.” Gregorio gave a half-smile to the other warlock before returning his gaze to me. “You know how travel goes.”
“Yes,” Jacobus said, nodding eagerly.
I just stood there, my mind racing. What was Gregorio trying to tell me? I was very, very clear about the fact that I was expected to pretend that I believed my child had been sired by Jeremy. But surely nobody in the community was supposed to think that Jeremy and I were madly in love, headed for a union or anything. He’d been gone for months, and we’d been stilted and awkward together before that.
Everyone knew we had collaborated on the cautery, the ugly punishment that removed Flavius Winterheart’s magic forever. Nobody could imagine we were giddy, carefree lovers.
Finally, I settled on a stiff smile. “Well, I will be happy to see him,” I said, letting my hand drift to my swollen belly. I was surprised to realize, even as I said it, that this was actually true. “It has been far too long,” I added, more confidently. Then I gave my empty plate another meaningful waggle and left the passageway.
Back in the dining room, the party had settled into several small conversation circles. The buffet table was as well-stocked as ever. The maid had clearly been busy. I wasn’t at all hungry, but I put a few more things on my plate just in case Gregorio was peering through the walls to watch me.
Mom detached herself from a gaggle of her pals and came to my side. “Did Dr. Andromedus find you? He mentioned he needed to tell you something.”
“Yes, he did. Jeremy’s coming back soon.”
“He did say that!” She looked genuinely happy at the prospect. “Such a fine warlock.”
“Mom,” I started, but she patted my arm.
“I know, I know,” she said. “But why not give him another chance? There’s no need to rush into anything. I mean, beyond what’s already, um, rushed into.” Her gaze darted to my belly.
I laughed out loud. Oh, Mom. “I never said I wouldn’t. I just—you know how it is. We talked about this.”
“You’re not still seeing the human, are you?”
“His name is Raymond, and no, I’m not.” I narrowed my eyes and looked more closely at Mom. “But seriously, we’ve been over this. What’s going on?”
Her eyes darted toward the passageway where Gregorio presumably still sat, then back to me. “Oh, well, it’s just…it was just something about the way Dr. Andromedus was mentioning Jeremy’s return. He seeme
d so…hopeful. I thought maybe absence had made the heart grow fonder.” She gave me a perky little smile that was very nearly convincing.
Except that, well, this was Mom. Though she was many things, perky was not one of them.
I drew her further into the corner, glancing around to make sure we weren’t being overheard. I could of course throw a zone of privacy around us, but that would attract far more attention than just keeping my voice low. “Mom, what is it about Gregorio?”
She looked at me blankly. “What do you mean?”
I stifled a sigh. “I know he’s Dad’s friend from forever ago. From the Old Country.”
“Friend and colleague,” Mom corrected me.
“Right.” She knew I knew this. I had grown up in this very house, with Dr. Gregorio Andromedus coming for dinner at least once a month, when my parents would give the formal dinner parties that elder witchkind seems to love so much. It had been Dad’s idea that I train with Gregorio when I came of age and hadn’t lost my youthful interest in biological research. Why was she explaining to me things I knew perfectly well? “But, do you like him?”
Her blank look grew, if anything, even blanker. “Callie. What a question. Of course I do.” Then she focused on me, as if I had suddenly appeared in front of her and we were just starting our conversation. “Are you sure you’re feeling all right, dear? Pregnancy can be very exhausting. Come, let’s get you a chair.”
She tugged on my arm but I pulled back, resisting gently. “I was just sitting down a minute ago. I’m fine, Mom. But I do want to know: how do you really feel about Gregorio? Do you just invite him to these things because he’s important to Dad, or do you enjoy having him around?”
Mom was shaking her head even as I asked the questions, and she kept tugging on my sleeve. “Callie, really, what’s gotten into you? Please, let me get you a glass of wine or something.”
I relented and let her put me in a chair. It was the only way I could get her to not push the wine on me. Wine is apparently as bad for developing human babies as it is good for developing witchlets. (I didn’t bother wondering about my half-and-half baby; any alcohol just sounded so unappetizing these days, I figured I had my answer right there. Again, the wisdom of the body.)
