by Shannon Page
Hours or days or centuries later, still the pain, and now a familiar presence, sniffing around me like another hungry cat. Holy…was it Sebastian?
“I’ll kill you if you come any closer,” I growled into the pillow. My pillow. Somehow, I was in my own bed. What was he doing in my house? Hadn’t I set my wards?
I heard his cruel soft laughter; his essence was nauseating. How had I imagined I liked this guy?
Had I ever had a life before the pain?
Still later. Pain and nausea. At least Elnor had stopped shrieking, and Sebastian had receded somewhere, anywhere but here.
I will never eat again.
I will never drink again.
Saturday evening, I emerged from bed, stumbled into the bathroom, drank a glass of water, threw up, apologized to the baby, drank another glass more slowly, and went back to sit on the edge of the bed. Whew. I put one hand on my forehead and the other on my belly. Okay, maybe I wasn’t going to die just yet. But that was close.
From somewhere down the hall, I heard Sebastian clear his throat. Obviously lurking somewhere, waiting for me to wake up.
“It’s safe, I won’t kill you,” I called out.
I heard soft footsteps, and then he stood in my bedroom doorway. “Hey.” Elnor poked her head around, peering through his legs as though she didn’t mind his presence in the least. Little traitor, selling her soul for a dish of tuna.
The world wobbled again. I took a deep breath and stared at my feet until I was steady once more. “Why are you in my house?”
“Well, hello to you too.” He was stifling a grin. He didn’t honestly think this was funny, did he? “I brought you home last night. And I’m staying here until I’m sure you’re all right.”
I stifled a groan. “Yes, though that was quite a party. I’m fine.”
His expression very eloquently conveyed how little he believed me. “I can see that you’re alive, anyway, which is a relief.”
“I’m totally fine.”
“Can I get you anything?”
I put my hands beside me on the bed, tentatively exploring the concept of standing up again. “No, thank you. Really, I’m great. Just… humiliated. And a little dehydrated.”
Sebastian gave a soft chuckle. “Let’s get you something to drink, then.”
“I’ll get it myself.” What part of “humiliated” did he not understand? I got to my feet and crept out into the bright hallway. Well, it sure seemed bright. The overhead light at the far end of the hall was on, as was the stairway light, and a soft lamp in the baby’s room next to mine. Blinding.
I picked my way downstairs, Sebastian and Elnor following at a polite, or careful, distance. The front parlor was even more insanely bright: there was a reading lamp on by the sofa. “Ouch,” I said, shielding my eyes and heading toward the kitchen. No way was I going to turn on the overhead light. I stood in the middle of the dark room, stifling a groan as I tried to decide what to brew.
Sebastian stood by the doorway and looked at my belly, a question in his eyes.
“Gregorio told me he’d brewed Witches’ Mead specifically safe for pregnancy.”
“Okay,” he said, frowning. “How did he do that?”
“I have no idea. I could feel it work, though.” I took a deep breath and closed my eyes as another wave of hangover meandered through me. “Sadly, whatever he did, it did nothing to reduce the Mead’s potency.”
“Do you want me to make you a pain potion?”
“It’ll be better if I do it,” I said. “You can help.” I grabbed a pot down from the high shelf above the stove.
Unfortunately, the more potent the potion, the more noxious it is. Sebastian had plenty of ideas for increasing the brew’s efficacy, to the point where I wondered if he was playing some sort of elaborate practical joke. “If this makes it worse—”
“I know, I know, you’ll kill me. Don’t worry, Callie. I’m studying healing, remember?”
Within fifteen minutes, six pots and my entire countertop were soiled, there was a purple splatter across the stove and halfway up the backsplash, and I held a steaming cup of yuck. I glared at it, steeling my nerves.
“Drink it fast, no breathing,” Sebastian said.
“Yes, I know.”
Then I stood there holding it a little longer, still wary of putting anything in my mouth. The last stuff I drank had caused such trouble. And it had been smoking, too.
Sebastian must have been biting the insides of his cheeks, he was suppressing laughter so hard. “I’m serious,” I told him. “I built a freaking golem. I can make you hurt so bad—”
“Callie.”
I sighed. “Okay.” I lifted the cup to my lips, catching a foul whiff before I remembered not to breathe, and drank it down. “Oh Unholy Father of All that is Beastly!” I gasped for breath, briefly blinded, the wind knocked out of me.
My vision returned slowly as I blinked away tears. It felt like the entire hangover had been condensed into an instant, and the pain had blown the top of my head off. I touched my forehead, as if my fingers would know any better than my brain. I turned my head slowly from side to side. The last of the pain was flowing away. My hand moved down to my stomach. It felt much better, too.
“Whew,” I said.
Sebastian frowned at me, looking more concerned than ever. “Are you…okay?”
“Much better, yeah.” I took another breath. “Huh. I actually feel pretty great.”
“Good. ’Cause that looked kind of alarming.”
“Didn’t you know what it would do?”
He blushed. “Um. I’d hoped. I’ve never made a potion quite like that before. But I’ve also never seen a hangover quite like that before.”
I gaped at him. “You told me to trust you!”
“And it worked! You feel all better, right?”
“That’s not the point!” I put my hands on my hips. “Some healer you are, testing a random concoction on a pregnant witch.”
“Callie, there was nothing toxic in any of that. Worst-case scenario would have been it just not helping.”
“And then I would have killed you for raising my hopes.”
“No, you wouldn’t have. You were way too sick to be dangerous.”
I laughed, shaking my head at him. “You jerk.”
Sebastian gave a courtly bow. “I accept your unbounded gratitude, my friend.”
“All right, thanks for the help. You jerk.” I thought about the potion, trying to remember everything that had gone into it. Though I couldn’t imagine ever needing such a thing again. Because I was never going to drink Witches’ Mead again, no matter how delicious it was. Never. “How did you come up with using saltines?”
“Because I’m a genius.” He grinned at me. “The baking soda reacts with the lemon balm, and strengthens it. Plus, they’re easy on the stomach.”
“Clever.” I pulled out a chair at the kitchen table and sat down. “If I keep feeling this good, we may have to figure out what to do for dinner.”
“Awesome. Drinks first, though. Want a glass of elderflower wine?”
“Ugh, no—just water.”
He conjured up a beer for himself and water for me, and sat down, again gazing at my belly for a moment.
“Do you want to check the baby?” I asked him. “Or just stare at it?”
He looked flustered. “Well, if you wouldn’t mind…”
“Go ahead, Mr. Genius Healer.”
He leaned over and placed both palms on my belly. I could feel him sending the gentlest, most subtle inquiries first into my system, then into hers. “Huh.”
“‘Huh’ what?” I asked, suddenly alarmed.
“What? Oh! No, she seems fine, but her internal processes…they’re so different. Not just a miniature of ours, but like totally different pathways. It’s intriguing.”
I looked at him. “Have you never examined a pregnant witch before?”
He shrugged. “No. I mean, when would I have? We haven’t had a baby in the
community for six or seven years, at least.”
“Huh.” I thought about it. “And you’ve been studying how long?”
“Just over three years.” He gave me a winning smile. “Callie, you have to let me examine her all the way along. I know you’re going to the regular healers too, but as a favor—”
“Sure, of course.”
“Thanks!”
“So you think she’s fine?”
“Yep, totally healthy. I thought so, but the way you looked…”
“Yeah. I haven’t gotten drunk like that since—oh gosh, my coven initiation, maybe. If even then.”
Sebastian shook his head. “It was, as you say, quite a party.”
“Gregorio pulled out all the stops. He’s really relieved that we solved the mystery. I think it bothered him more than he wants to admit that he didn’t suspect Flavius at all.”
“He’s usually pretty sharp,” Sebastian agreed. “He must have let his guard down.”
“I guess.” I watched his expression as I added, “How are you doing with it all?”
“What do you mean?”
“Flavius. You were…?”
Sebastian shifted in his chair, staring at his beer. “I’m fine. We weren’t—I mean, he was sort of an ass, actually. Kind of full of himself. I didn’t see him as evil, but he wasn’t really the nicest guy in the world.”
“Okay.” If he didn’t want to tell me, that was his business.
“I’m glad they didn’t decide to send him Beyond, though.”
“Yeah. What we did should be punishment enough.” I shivered again at the thought and took a sip of my water, the golden ring on my right hand clinking against the glass as I did.
“What’s that?” Sebastian asked.
“Oh, this is hilarious,” I said wryly. “Gregorio gave it to me, last night.”
“Why?”
“He, um—I guess it was actually supposed to be from Jeremy. You know.”
Sebastian gave a surprised laugh. “Seriously? The warlock gets his father to do his proposing?”
I shook my head. “Yeah, I know. But I can’t take it off. It’s kind of creeping me out.”
“Let me see.”
I held out my hand; Sebastian took it, gently pulling on the ring at first before sending a little magical intention to it. “Ouch,” I said.
“I don’t think I should mess with this,” he said, dropping my hand. “It’s got a lot of juice in it.”
“Yeah, it’s supposed to be increasing my power. And it does, but I don’t like it.”
“So just ask him to take it off.”
“He said I should try it for a few days. I’ll give it till tomorrow, I guess.” I twisted the ring around on my finger, soothing the spark it had given me when Sebastian had tried to move it. The gold seemed to like to be touched; my fingers enjoyed the feel of it. What a strange thing. Though in theory anything could have spells added to it, magic rings were a little fairy tale-ish. And hobbit-ish.
Sebastian sipped his beer. “What d’ya want to do for dinner, then? Have you tried that new Italian place on Clay?”
“I have not.” At my feet, Elnor glanced up. “You already ate,” I told her. “Guard the house. I’ll be back in a few hours.”
Sebastian must have been convinced that I was indeed all right, because we went our separate ways after dinner. I was pretty tired; drunk sleep isn’t nearly as restful as real sleep.
I awoke in the small hours of the morning, feeling better still. And more clear-headed than I had been in many days. I got up, made a cup of peppermint tea, and sat at my kitchen table, thinking.
How had Gregorio been so deceived by such a minor power as Flavius Winterheart? An eight-hundred-year-old warlock doesn’t make careless mistakes like that.
Unless Gregorio was at last starting to lose his grip on his powers? Nobody could stay on this plane forever. Witches traditionally moved along at age four hundred (though, of course, not always); warlocks often hung around far longer, helping to balance out the genders somewhat, choosing to go Beyond when their magic began to fade.
But I had seen no other signs of decline in my mentor. The spells he’d unleashed on Flavius still made me shudder, all this time later.
What would it mean, though, if Gregorio was declining? He was the leader of the San Francisco Elders; my father was the next oldest and probably the next most powerful. He would inherit the mantle, if Gregorio decided to go Beyond. It would be a smooth enough transition of authority. Most witchkind would probably hardly notice.
I stood up and put my teacup in the sink. All this pondering was getting me nowhere: I needed to see him. I wanted this ring removed. And maybe I could ask him about the weird time-slip thing that happened at the party, and if he’d heard anything from Jeremy. Seemed like I should be kept in the loop, even if our romance was in a shambles.
Somewhere in all this, I could try and take the measure of Gregorio’s power. If he was starting to lose it, and trying to cover it up, I’d have to talk to Dad about it. Not awkward at all, nope.
The sun was beginning to tinge the horizon a peachy-pink. I sent a message to Gregorio: Thank you for the lovely party.
It was my pleasure, came the response, a minute or so later.
I have something I’d like to speak with you about, I sent. Do you have a few minutes any time today?
I am free right now.
May I come over?
Please do. He sent an unusual energetic invitation: a personal portal of sorts, a tiny, private ley line leading directly into his house, bypassing his wards altogether. Very nice. And impressive. Not the sign of a warlock who was losing his mojo.
Following it, I materialized in a small, comfortably proportioned room I hadn’t been in before. Several upholstered chairs were arranged around a low coffee table. A priceless Japanese urn taller than I was stood in a corner; the far wall was hung with a number of small sumi-e illustrations. The room was tidier than many of his I’d seen, though it still had several overfull bookcases. Large windows on the near wall looked out onto a lushly planted side yard—bougainvillea, phlox, hydrangea, and a wealth of ferns.
“Greetings,” Gregorio said. “May I offer you anything?” He gestured to a sideboard well appointed with bottles, carafes and glasses. “I’m afraid I am out of Witches’ Mead,” he added, with a tiny smile.
“I believe I have satisfied my Mead requirements for the foreseeable future, thank you.”
“Elderflower wine, then?”
“No, thanks—just water.”
After a quick but measured glance, he said, “Of course,” and stepped over to the sideboard. He poured a glass of water from a crystal decanter and waved a finger to chill it. He then poured himself something turquoise with small red bubbles in it, and brought both our drinks to the low table. “Please, have a seat.”
I chose a chair and took the glass he handed me. “Thank you for seeing me on such short notice.”
He nodded. “It is my pleasure, Calendula, as always. And I have something I wish to speak with you about as well.”
“Oh?”
“Yes. But you first, please.”
“Okay.” I tried for a pleasant, relaxed smile, even as I tried to banish the thought of Sebastian joking that Gregorio had done his son’s proposing for him. “So, I’ve spent a few days with this ring, like you asked, and I’m still not altogether comfortable with it. I’d like you to undo the spell so I can take it off.”
He looked at me thoughtfully. “No, I am afraid I cannot do that,” he said after a moment.
“But I thought—”
“Yes, that is what I indicated Friday night, but there has been a… complicating development.”
“What do you mean?”
He leaned forward, steepling his fingers in front of his face. His drink sat ignored on the table before him. “Calendula Isadora. I have nothing but the highest regard and affection for you, and of course for your parents—the friendship between your father
and me goes back hundreds of years. You are a bright and inquisitive witch, with unusually strong powers; I have long believed that you will grow to be a leader among us, perhaps even forming a coven of your own someday.”
My hangover queasiness started to return. This had all the earmarks of leading to a colossal But…
“I find myself in something of an uncomfortable quandary,” he went on. “We have a situation. Ordinarily, this kind of thing is easily dealt with, quietly, with no one any the wiser. Unfortunately, between your prominence, particularly recently; your relationship with my son; and the fact that the situation was allowed to progress to the extent of a very public announcement…” His grey eyes held mine. “It cannot be solved in the usual manner.”
“What…what is the situation?”
“The child you are carrying was not sired by my son.”
“What? Of course she was. I haven’t…been…with any other warlocks. Not in several years.”
“No, you have not.” He gazed at me.
I stared back, dumbfounded.
He lifted an eyebrow. “There has been another lover, has there not?”
“You mean…Raymond? What does he have to do with anything?”
“Your human lover has sired your child.”
I let out a surprised, relieved laugh. “Oh, Gregorio. You had me going there.”
His expression did not change. “Calendula. This is not a joke.”
“But…that’s impossible!” My queasiness redoubled; my heart pounded. “We’re sterile with humans. I know that better than most—so do you!”
“Have you ever done specific experiments using human DNA?” he asked, his voice maddeningly calm.
“Well, no. It would be a waste of time.”
“That is close enough to being true that the rare exceptions, the occasional accidents, can be dispatched quickly. Unfortunately, the entire community now knows of your pregnancy. Your daughter is widely perceived to be of my line, and my son is quite besotted with you. Not only that, but we have just come through a dreadful trauma that has wounded and disheartened us all. If an ‘accident’ should befall you now, particularly given all the recent turmoil, it would raise questions. Questions that must remain unasked.”
