The Queen and the Tower

by Shannon Page

  And there it came. I sobbed in Raymond’s arms, soaking his chest. Vaguely, I felt Elnor sniffing around my ankles, but she understood that the crazy foreign human male-thing was giving me comfort, so she backed off.

  I cried a long time, clinging to him until the tears finally abated. His caresses continued, making their way to my lower back. And then, as I didn’t pull away, the top of my butt.

  I shifted closer, not raising my face to his, still holding him tight. My braid nudged his hand; I turned my head a bit so he wouldn’t be startled.

  His hands roamed down, cupping my ass, then up again, this time finding their way underneath my T-shirt. Oh god, his warm hands on my skin, moving forward, upward…I sighed and leaned into him, shifting my hips. Heat overtook me as I let myself fall into our familiar dance. It felt so right. Not just a distraction, or our familiarity, or the like—I mean, it was all those things, plus something more. In that moment, I knew exactly what I wanted, exactly how to communicate with him, how to find comfort, how to express our connection. In all its wordless complexity.

  It felt as though I was receiving wisdom from somewhere else. I listened to it, helpless to resist.

  Not wanting to resist.

  “This…okay?” Raymond asked, in a rough half-whisper.

  “Oh yes.”

  Through kisses, I led him to the couch. Despite my unaccustomed burst of domesticity earlier, I had not managed to change the sheets on my bed.

  Sadly, even the most delightful distractions only distract for so long.

  “Mmm,” I murmured, nestled in Raymond’s arms. “Thank you.”

  “It was my pleasure.” He nibbled my ear.

  I sighed and sat up, extracting myself from his warm embrace. It felt almost physically painful to pull away from him. “So.”

  “So.” He gazed at me from his end of the couch. No, he did not look like a scared puppy; that was just me projecting.

  I took a deep breath. “So.”

  “You said that.” He gave me a tentative grin.

  “Yeah.” I smiled back. “You’re right: there are a lot of things in my life I haven’t shared with you. And for very good reasons—which I also can’t share.” He started to answer; I held up a hand. “No, please, I’m going to tell you as much as I can, so let me just say it all out. Then you can ask questions if you want.”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  “I told you when we met that I lived in an intentional community. And that’s true, but it’s not what you think. I let you believe it was some sort of free-love commune, because I knew that would make more sense to you. And it would stop you asking too many questions.” I gave him a sheepish smile. “But…it’s a religious community, actually. One with a very, very long history of deep privacy. Which looks like secrecy from the outside, I know.”

  I don’t read minds either, but I could almost see the words going through his brain: She’s in some sort of cult?

  “I’m still a full-fledged member of that community, even though I moved out of the…main house,” I went on. “I still participate in the practices and rituals and important communal meals. I still teach younger members of the order. But they agreed to my moving out for a little while; perhaps a few years. We all agreed I needed a little more space of my own.

  “My birth family also belongs to this community, though by joining this other household when I came of age, that sort of…reconfigured the significance of the people in my life. This is how it’s done with us. I’m still very fond of my birth parents, but my house members are my true family.” I smiled again. “Complete with sibling rivalry. Which is part of the reason I’m trying to develop more of an outside social life. I really like your friends, and I love you. But, well, there’s a limit on how much I’m going to be able to share—with you or anyone on the outside. There are always going to be secrets. I don’t really have any say in the matter.”

  Raymond just kept watching me. He looked very unhappy, and rather confused.

  “You can ask questions now,” I said.

  “You can’t even tell me the name of the…religion?”

  “It’s, ah, a form of paganism. You won’t have heard of it.”

  “Oh.” He thought a moment. “And you’re not…I mean, you could leave it if you wanted to? You don’t need…help?”

  A surprised chuckle escaped me. “Oh, um, it’s not like that. It is intrinsic to my very nature that I practice this religion, and I am quite happy doing so. Nobody’s keeping me captive, don’t worry.” I gave him what I hoped was a reassuring smile.

  “Okay.” He paused, thinking again. “But you are poly?”

  I snorted. I might have known he’d return there. “Technically, yes, though we don’t call it that. And not everyone acts on it, not like hu—I mean, the rest of the world. Think of it as a different culture. One without an underlying assumption of lifelong monogamy. Just… different rules.”

  Sudden understanding dawned on his face. “Ohhhh. You’re not supposed to be dating outside the community, are you? I’m the secret.”

  I started to correct him, then realized what a gift he’d just handed me. “You’re right—sort of. I mean, I’m an adult, I’m allowed a certain amount of freedom in my personal life, but—yeah, we would never be allowed to marry or anything. I could never bring you home to meet my family. Any of my family. So, it’s just been better that I’ve kept you separate.” I reached over and took his hand. “I’m sorry if this is painful. I never meant to hurt you. It’s…been harder than I realized, keeping such important parts of my life entirely apart from each other.”

  He leaned forward and took me into his arms. “Callie, hon, I understand. It’s all right.”

  “No, it’s not all right,” I said, into his chest. “It’s not fair to you, and I’m sorry I didn’t figure out how to explain it better than this before. It’s just…we worked so well, when we were seeing each other once or twice a week when I lived at the…house. I thought it would be easier when I moved here, not harder.”

  He laughed, softly. “Yeah. I knew I wasn’t gonna move in with you, but I did sorta think you’d maybe give me a key.”

  I tensed in his arms. “I…”

  “No, babe, stop,” he said. “I’m cool. I know you need time, that it must be a big adjustment for you.” He squeezed me gently. “I’m cool, really. There’s no rush.”

  “Thank you.” I tilted my face up for a kiss.

  And then another kiss.

  And then I got a message through the æther. Callie, I hope all is going well with you? I have been thinking about you all day…very fondly, and in lavish detail.

  Jeremy! Oh, Blessed Mother. How long had it been since I’d told him I’d talk to him soon? Had I missed an earlier ping? What time was it now?

  I froze mid-kiss. Raymond drew away and looked into my eyes. “Hon?”

  “I’m all right.” I flashed him a quick, uncomfortable smile as I sent Hang on to Jeremy. “But I think I need a little time to be alone right now.” At least the warlock was being polite and not just peering into my house. Or showing up! There were those Old Country manners again. Thank goodness.

  “Okay…” Raymond dropped his hands and took a step back. “I’ll see you soon?”

  I am at your disposal flashed into my head.

  “Yes. I’ll call you.”

  “Sure.” A sad look crossed his face, though I could see him trying to hide it. “You know you can talk to me about anything…I mean, anything you can talk about. You know.”

  “I know.” I drew him into another strong hug.

  After I released him, Raymond gathered his things. I tried to give him a decent kiss at the door, but my thoughts were elsewhere. And we both knew it.

  I closed the door behind him. Well, that didn’t really solve anything. I went into the front parlor and flopped into a chair with a sigh.

  Elnor came and snuggled on my lap. I scritched her for a minute, then sent a message to Jeremy. Hello, and sorry about tha
t.

  Not a problem. Of course you have a life.

  He didn’t know how right he was.

  Well, at least I could stop digging myself deeper into secrecy and half-truths. Raymond was over here when you sent your message, I told him.

  A pause. Oh?

  Boy, was it hard to read someone’s tone in æther-communication. Was he miffed, jealous, annoyed? Or just waiting for more information? Yes, I needed to explain some things to him, after sending him away the night of the dinner party.

  An even longer pause. Is everything cleared up now?

  More or less. I sighed again. Maybe, I don’t know. For the moment, anyway. Humans are complicated.

  Are they? I haven’t found them so, but I confess I haven’t had much in the way of relations with them.

  No, I supposed he hadn’t. Well, it’s cleared up enough, I said, suddenly not wanting to talk to Jeremy about this. Not remotely. And not now. So! Have you had a good day?

  He sent a chuckle across the æther. I have told you before that I will respect your privacy, Calendula, and I meant it. As for my day…yes, and no.

  What do you mean?

  Though my day has been filled with thoughts of our night, he said, other things have happened as well. Two more witches have taken ill.

  What? My heart started pounding; I sat bolt-upright, startling Elnor. What’s going on?

  May I come see you?

  Absolutely.

  A few minutes later we sat in my front parlor, beside one another on the couch. “It’s an unaffiliated witch named Lucinda and a young witch from Gloria’s coven named Dreanor. My father is setting up an emergency clinic near where the healers live.”

  “Drained essences?” I asked.

  Jeremy nodded. “Yes, though not as fast nor as badly as with Logan. My father thinks they might pull through.” He glanced down at the floor, then back at me. “Assuming, of course, that they don’t worsen. But for now, their spirits are holding fast.”

  “And there is still no sign of the cause? I suppose we’ll all be sent back indoors once more,” I added. It was odd, in fact, that I hadn’t heard from Leonora yet. Surely she knew.

  “No. These instances aren’t quite the same as Logan’s; they were slower to build, with no moment of sudden onset. Both witches reported feeling poorly for some weeks. Lucinda tried all manner of herbs and nostrums before she contacted Hesta.”

  “But it has to be the same thing.” I frowned. “Essence doesn’t just leak away for no reason. This had to come from somewhere…or someone. Right?”

  “There have been no unknown practitioners in our community since the Elders last searched, and there are no strangers here now,” Jeremy said. “In fact…the last stranger to enter the community was me.”

  I looked up at him sharply. “Surely they don’t think—”

  He laughed, but without humor. “I am not stealing essence from witches. Or from anyone.” He reached out his hand; I took it and gave it a gentle squeeze. “I did insist that they examine me thoroughly, just to put everyone’s minds at rest. My father was mortified, I am sure, but he did not object. They found no sign of ill intent in me, no harmful spells cast.”

  Still holding his hand, I opened my senses to him, seeking… anything. I felt good intentions, fear, confusion, and a strong burst of warm tenderness. Aimed at me. He had clearly opened himself to my scrutiny, knowing I would want to take the measure of him. I smiled at him. “Thanks.”

  He pulled my hand to his lips and gave it a gentle kiss. “Of course, Calendula. Privacy is one thing; secrecy is quite another. You may look into my heart whenever you like.”

  It was a very sweet sentiment, even if it was only sort of true. No one was an open book, not even to uber-powerful practitioners who could read actual thoughts. Even so. I appreciated what he meant.

  So much so that I invited him to spend a second night.

  “No breakfast in bed this morning, I am sorry,” Jeremy said. “Father expects me at the new clinic. He has a lot for me to do.”

  “I’ll come with you,” I told him, getting up and looking for a clean pair of jeans. “I can help.”

  “Hmm.” He looked slightly pained. “Let me check with my father first. Between all his research assistants and the healers, we’ve got more doctors than patients at the moment. We don’t even really know what we’re looking for.”

  “I’m happy to ask him myself,” I said, tactfully not pointing out that I likely knew his father better than he did. As the clinic was to be for both research and treatment, I wouldn’t be getting in any doctors’ ways by looking at the research side of things.

  “Please, Callie. Let me ask.”

  I waited, expecting that he would send an ætheric message.

  He looked back at me. “I would rather ask him in person, when I’m there. I will send you a message if he wants your help.”

  I started to argue, but stopped myself and said, “All right.” Jeremy looked relieved. No doubt his very unfamiliarity with Gregorio explained his being extra careful in trying to please him. Now that I thought about it, Gregorio seemed rather formal with his son as well. They needed time to become more comfortable with one another. It would happen. They were both good warlocks.

  After he left, I went to the coven house and knocked on Leonora’s office door.

  “Come in, Calendula,” came her voice from the other side.

  I went in and took a seat. Logan’s body seemed unchanged. I gazed at it a long moment before looking away.

  Leonora closed a large ledger book, set her quill pen down, and looked up at me. She started to say something, then paused, scrutinizing me. “Are you feeling all right, Calendula?”

  “What? Yes, I’m fine…considering. Why?”

  She shook her head. “It’s nothing, I’m sure. I just thought I saw something amiss.”

  Grief, probably, I thought. “I heard from Jeremiah Andromedus that more witches are sick.”

  “Yes, quite mysteriously. It is most disturbing.”

  “Yes—to say the least. Have you seen them?”

  “Not yet,” she said. “I am visiting Dr. Andromedus’s new clinic in an hour. He has asked all the coven mothers to come and give their assessments.”

  “May I come along?”

  “No. This is a meeting for coven mothers and medical practitioners only.”

  I struggled to stay calm. To feel capable in the face of my coven mother’s withering gaze. All the while remembering Logan’s words from our tarot reading: Leonora has infantilized you over the years. “I am a biological researcher. The first witch fell ill in my house—and departed there. And she was my closest friend. I might be able to help.”

  “Your biology work is at the microscopic level—you are not a healer. And being Logan’s friend, your judgment is clouded by emotion. You are not yourself; I can see it in your face, in your energy.” Before I could argue again, she went on, more gently. “The other coven mothers and I will visit first. If we find ourselves in need of additional opinions, I will consider your request.” Then she reached for her quill pen again.

  “Yes, Mother,” I murmured, and left her.

  Back at my house, I made a cup of tea and flopped down into a kitchen chair, seething with frustration. Leonora did treat us all as children. I’d moved out, yet I still had to answer to her, just as everyone else in the house did. Every witch was expected to show deference to any coven mother, particularly our own. Yes, I was still young, as witchkind counted things—the youngest in our coven—but I’d lived nearly half a century. Would I, and my work, ever be taken seriously?

  I sipped my tea, which tasted stale, as I calmed down slowly, thinking it all over. We were supposed to be a community, a family, even if Leonora was our leader. Was Logan right, that my coven was more hierarchical than most? More unhealthy? Niad was ninety-three, witchkind’s equivalent of her mid-thirties. A human woman in her thirties would most likely have been independent for ten or fifteen years—living alone,
or with friends or a partner, or married—yet Leonora didn’t go any easier on Niad than she did me. My older sister was smart and powerful and gorgeous, and she let herself get bossed around by a woman three hundred and fifty years older than her and showing no signs of slowing down. Was that why Niad was such a cranky bully all the time?

  It didn’t mean she had to take it out on me, though. I was frustrated myself, yet I still tried to be nice to people. It wasn’t like I picked on the students or tortured humans or something.

  Well, Jeremy and Leonora might be able to keep me away from the clinic—for now, at least—but there were other parts of this mystery I could look into. Logan’s apartment, for example. No one had seen Willson yet, and that was truly odd.

  Elnor accompanied me along an unfamiliar ley line to its branching point. We switched to the more familiar line leading to Logan’s building; I hadn’t lived in my house long enough to have a habitual way over there. Another pang at my heartstrings…now I never would make such a path.

  I stood on the sidewalk where Jeremy and I had paused on our walk the other day; Elnor kept close to my ankles. Logan’s building was old and majestic, two stories of apartments above shops on the street level, on the cusp between the Castro and Church Street neighborhoods. Mostly humans lived here, though I knew that one other unaffiliated witch had recently moved in—a transplant from New Orleans. Logan had talked about befriending her, even joking that they should establish a sort of Outcasts Club, but I didn’t know if they had actually ever spoken.

  I sent my senses into the building. The other witch wasn’t home, though I felt her lingering energy, and that of her familiar. Elnor’s nose twitched as she detected it too. I glanced around; no humans were watching, so I spelled the lock on the street door and we went inside.

  Logan’s apartment was at the far end of the top floor. I spelled that door too, opening it a crack. I waited, peering in but not crossing the threshold yet, taking the measure of the place.

  Energetically, it was eerily like Logan’s body: it seemed as though someone had left it just a moment ago. But it was entirely still, lifeless. Suspended. Was her spirit lingering here, somehow, some way? “Hello?” I called out softly, not wanting to attract the attention of any neighbors.