She clucked her tongue again, and the broomstick sped up so quickly, the terrain below us actually stretched into smeared stripes.
Ribbons sent me a telepathic whimper. Even with his speedy wyvern wings, he couldn’t match our new pace.
Chapter 29
We flew toward Beacon Street, Maisy steering the broom while I held on tightly, my forearms crossed over the witch’s slim waist.
My house appeared as a red dot, then a triangle, a matchbook-sized miniature, an architectural model, a dollhouse, and, finally, it was as large as life. I’d only been away for a few hours, but approaching from the air in this unexpected way heightened my emotions. The lump in my throat had grown with our approach. As we circled the back yard, preparing for landing, I blinked tears from my eyes. Home! Home at last. Sweet solid ground.
We touched down, and my legs buckled under me unexpectedly. I landed on my butt. Hard.
Maisy tossed her hair over her shoulder as she turned to laugh at me.
“That darn gravity will get you, every time,” the witch said merrily.
I groaned and pushed my pencil skirt down. It had been forming a thick belt instead of a skirt. Anyone looking would have seen my underwear. How undignified.
I gave Maisy a suspicious look as I wriggled on the ground like a beached fish. “Are you sure you didn’t give me extra weight when you reversed the body buoyancy spell?”
“That’s all you,” she said, laughing again. “Don’t blame me, Zara. Blame the ice cream.”
“Ouch. You’re kinda mean.” I used my palms to press down the wrinkles on my skirt. “Now I understand why my aunt didn’t introduce us. She was protecting me from you.”
“Maybe so.” She tilted her head to the side thoughtfully. “Maybe so,” she repeated.
I glanced at the back door of my house, then back at Maisy. My concern for Zoey hadn’t left my mind since Ribbons’ appearance, but I did have a few more pressing questions for my new witch friend before she flew off.
“Who else is in the club?” I asked. “There’s you, your niece, my aunt, and who else?”
She gave me a funny smile, her thick upper lip lifting to show her long teeth, so that she resembled a rodent. “Oh, I couldn’t possibly say. It’s against the rules.” She gave me a coy look. “But don’t let me stop you from guessing.”
“How about Kathy Carmichael, the head librarian?”
Maisy’s eye twitched. I was onto something.
I pressed on. “Kathy’s always hinting that she knows things about magic, but she never comes out and says anything specific.”
“Typical troll.” Maisy rolled her eyes. “Always trolling for intel. She’s as bad as Vincent Wick with his creepy little spy cameras.”
“Did I hear you right? Kathy’s a troll?”
“That may or may not be a rumor that may or may not hold some truth.” She held one slim finger to her lips. “But you didn’t hear it from me.”
“Trolls are real?”
She waved a hand airily. “The preferred term is sprites. Apparently troll is a bad word. They get offended if you call them that.” She made a tsk-tsk sound. “Everyone gets so offended these days about labels. What next? Should we witches lobby to be called something different, like hag, or crone, or harpy, or she-devil?” Maisy wrinkled her nose. “Actually, I like she-devil.”
Of course she would. The daredevil witch was a bit of a she-devil.
I circled back to the topic of Kathy’s supernatural status.
“What can trolls do?” I asked, “I mean, um, sprites? What can sprites do?”
“Why don’t you look it up in that Monster Manual of yours?” She bounced her eyebrows. “By the way, I’d love to borrow that book sometime.”
A bargaining chip! “Any time. I’ll trade you for a name. Another member of your coven.”
“Nice try.” Maisy waved a hand, then sighed. “I don’t know why I’m being so careful. You probably know exactly who it is.”
“I swear I don’t. Kathy was my top guess, and my only guess.”
“But you’ve probably heard plenty about our fourth member from your aunt. The two of them spend a lot of time together, especially now that...” She paused and pretended to zip her lips. “Never mind. It’s not my place to say.”
“That’s not much of a hint,” I growled. “Zinnia doesn’t talk to me about her friends. She doesn’t tell me anything juicy.”
“Really? So she never told you about what happened with Fung?”
“Who? Do you mean the detective who was here before Bentley?”
Maisy’s face registered disappointment. “What a shame. I was hoping to get the dirt from you. She won’t tell me, either. She swears the two of them were just friends, but I can’t shake the feeling there was more to it.”
I held up both of my hands to show they were empty. “I’ve got no dirt, either. I’d never even heard of the guy until yesterday.”
Maisy’s dark eyes twinkled. “I think you do know something. You’re toying with me right now, aren’t you?”
I waved my empty palms. “All I know is Bentley got access to this guy Fung’s full reports, and there’s something in them about Zinnia being tough.” I put my hands on my hips. “But that can’t be news to anyone. We Riddle women are tougher than we look.”
“Of course you are. Witch blood and shifter blood and heaven knows...” She paused and bared her long front teeth in what almost passed for a smile. “And heaven knows what else,” she finished, her voice low and gritty.
A shudder passed through me, finishing with a tremble of both hands. I clasped my hands together, but they continued to tremble and twitch.
Maisy noticed my trembling and pointed at my hands. “You’ll need plenty of rest before you’re back up to power. That’s technically my fault you’re drained.”
“What?”
She gave me a sheepish look. “I got the extra speed on the flight back by using you as a magical battery.”
“A what?” I’d heard her perfectly, but it seemed like the right way to show one’s rightful indignation when one has been used as a magical battery without her consent.
“You heard me,” Maisy said coolly. “Zinnia should be teaching you about that.”
Suddenly, I felt defensive of my aunt. “She’s doing the best she can,” I said. “I’m not the world’s best student.”
Maisy nodded and turned her head to survey my small patch of garden. “That’s a nice crop of cucumbers and tomatoes,” she said. “I can see that Tansy Wick’s spirit did you some good.”
“There are a few positive aspects to being Spirit Charmed.”
“If you say so,” she said flatly.
A quiet moment passed. A single Spotted Towhee landed on the fence and chirped at us.
Maisy waved an arm. “Enough chit chat,” she said. “Now make with the hocus pocus. You’ve got enough juice left to cast a buoyancy spell for me.” She stamped her foot impatiently. “Lighten me up, already. I gotta fly.”
* * *
After Maisy took off, I stood for a moment staring after her. I couldn’t see her, of course. Just the sky. Her cloaking glamour worked as well as the wyvern’s. But I felt the urge to stare, all the same.
My hands were still trembling when I went inside the house through the back door. I found Zoey in her room, sitting cross-legged on her bed with a paperback in her hands. Boa was draped across her lap, fast asleep with her fangs showing.
Zoey gave me a guilty look. “Did Ribbons tattle on me?”
“Maybe,” I said tentatively.
“Mom, I swear I only went down to your desk to get a pen, but then I couldn’t find one, so I started poking around. And when I found those drawers that wouldn’t open, I thought for sure you had something in there about...” She trailed off and stared at me. Her lower lip quivered. Not a pouting quiver, but something else. She was upset.
I understood. And I knew what I had to do.
“You were looking for somethin
g about your father,” I said.
She looked down at the relaxed cat draped over her legs. “I broke a letter opener, and I chipped the drawer.” She looked up again, her eyes tinged with red and glistening. “Do you hate me now?”
Ah. The mercurial moods of the teenager. Soon she would be facing problems I couldn’t fix, but for now, for this one, I could help. This was a job for the truth. A hug plus the truth.
I crossed the threshold into her room, sat next to her on the bed, and wrapped my arms around my daughter. She sobbed as she buried her face in my hair.
“I don’t hate you,” I said. “I could never hate you.”
She shook in my arms, which set off another round of post-flight trembling in my arms.
“I don’t know what to do,” she sobbed. “You’re the person I go to when I need help, and you won’t help me.”
“I’m sorry I haven’t been helpful.”
She pulled back enough to glare at me. Another rapid mood change. “You made pink smoke, Mom. Pink smoke! And you snuck away like a thief!”
“I did do that, like a coward, and I’m sorry. If it’s any consolation, I’ve withdrawn my nomination for Mother of the Year.”
She pulled away as much as she could without uncrossing her legs. “I don’t know why I’m so worried about you being mad at me. I’m mad at you. You treat me like I’m a baby, but I’m not. I deserve to know who I am.” She fixed me with an angry pout so completely over the top it nearly made me giggle. “I deserve to know what I am,” she spat out.
“You’re half genie,” I said.
She howled in outrage. “Don’t make a joke out of this.” She howled again. “You’re so immature! For someone who’s supposed to be the mother, you’re so irritating!”
“Please stay calm,” I said. “You’re half genie, and I don’t know what powers you might have. Please calm down. I don’t want to get accidentally turned into smoke, or fire, or goo.”
She started howling a third time, but abruptly cut herself off. She stared at me, unblinking, and brushed the tears from her red eyes.
“I’m what?”
“A quarter witch, a quarter shifter, and half genie. Your father had a different name when I knew him then, but these days he calls himself Archer Caine.”
At the mention of his name, the door to the bedroom abruptly closed itself with a slam.
I looked around. “What was that?”
“Just the house,” Zoey said.
“The house?”
She nodded. “The house is always listening in. It must be surprised. I think you caught it off guard.”
I spoke up louder, intentionally. “The house shouldn’t listen in to private conversations if it doesn’t want to get caught off guard.”
The house returned only a weary creak.
My daughter and I stared at each other.
“You’re not surprised,” I said.
She pursed her lips. “Well, when you didn’t tell me, I figured it was bad.”
“Being half genie is bad?”
She shrugged. “Good. Bad. Who knows?”
“It can’t be bad. You’re too good to be bad.”
She looked down at the bedspread. “Mom, did he...?”
My arms trembled again. I was really feeling the depletion from the flight, and now this.
I took in a deep breath. Finally, I understood what she was asking.
If I’d been listening, truly listening, I would have heard it sooner.
Was it being drained of magic that made me finally understand? Was I a better mother without my powers? I couldn’t think about that now.
All I could do was listen, feel what my daughter was feeling, and answer honestly.
“He didn’t hurt me,” I said softly. “Is that what you need to know?”
“Don’t lie to me. I can take it.”
My heart broke. Knowing that my cowardice had caused my daughter so much pain... It brought tears to my eyes. I blinked them back. This wasn’t about me. This was about her.
“Zoey, I’m not lying. You were made with... well, not love, exactly, but you were made in a good way.”
“You’re not just saying that, are you?” She lifted her face and gave me a hopeful look.
I raised my hand. “My word is my bond. I’m not lying to you.”
“What about that night?”
I frowned. “You don’t really want those details, do you?”
“Not that,” she said. “ I mean, did you know? Did you know you were making a baby?”
“I knew I shouldn’t have had so many Barberrian wine coolers.”
She leaned forward, so her face was in mine. “You swore, Mom. You gave your word. You have to tell me the truth.”
“Yes. That is how the swearing thing works.”
“So, did you know?”
My throat was so tight. I didn’t think the words would escape, even with the promise I’d made, but I heard the words pass hoarsely through my lips.
“Yes,” I said. “I knew before. I knew during. And I knew after. I knew about you. It was no accident.”
She stared at me a long moment, then whispered, “But you didn’t love him.” She sounded bitter.
My throat wouldn’t let out any more words. If you don’t know the truth, you can’t tell it.
The cat had jumped off her lap when the door had slammed. Now Zoey uncrossed her legs and started to push away from me.
I caught her by both wrists and stopped her. I met her face again with mine, and I spoke the truth.
“Zolanda Daizy Cazzaundra Riddle, you were made with love, from my body. Every bone and pint of blood. Every hair on your head. Every freckle on your nose. You were made with love. By me.”
She went limp and tossed herself into my arms.
Chapter 30
Once the secret of Zoey’s paternity was out in the open, a weight I didn’t know I’d been carrying lifted free of me. It felt similar to the body buoyancy spell I’d used for broomstick flying, but this magic was the regular kind that any person could experience.
I was unburdened now, and, like every person who’s been unburdened, only after the load had been dropped could I appreciate how much I’d been carrying. Every muscle in my body relaxed. There was space within me, and air, and room for light and goodness.
As we sat together on Zoey’s bed, talking about genies and what it all might mean for her, my head floated. Everything floated. I was helium inside. It seemed like the golden afternoon sunshine streaming in the window was the only thing holding me in place.
We talked about the night I met Archer. It had happened at a typical teen house party. The party had been full of people I didn’t know. The house belonged to an older kid who was a buddy of Nathan Partridge’s, a.k.a. Nash. He was my big-brother-like friend whose father rented a portion of the house my mother owned. Nash and his rock band were playing a cover song, not very well, when I slipped away with a cute boy who’d caught my eye.
“That’s funny,” Zoey said, interrupting the story. “I always thought Nash might be my father.”
“Ew. Based on what?”
“You two were so close, and then you didn’t see him anymore after you had me.”
“He was like a brother.”
She shrugged. “How can you say that? You never had a brother.”
“No, but I’ve read books about siblings. Thanks to fiction, we’ve all lived countless other lives. As a fellow bookworm, you should know that.”
“But you did drift apart after you had me.” She sniffed. “It might have been nice to have an uncle around.”
She had a good point, but there was a logical explanation. “I got cut off from Nash because he and his father still lived in your grandmother’s house, and I was no longer welcome there.”
Zoey stroked the tip of her nose carefully. “Look at the tip of this nose. Doesn’t it look a bit like Nash’s?”
“In the sense that it’s a nose, sure.”
“I swear
I could see a clue when I looked at photos of Nash. The family resemblance.” She touched her cheekbones lightly. “I thought I could see it in a few spots on my face.”
“People see what they expect to see.” I yawned and stretched in the sunbeam, feeling relaxed and cat-like. “Or what they want to see.”
“I had this whole scenario in my head. Nash was going to get his big break and become a superstar. Then, one day he’d be giving an interview on TV, and he’d suddenly break down. It would be super-dramatic. He’d confess to the interviewer that no matter what he did in life, he’d never atone for abandoning his daughter.”
I sucked in air through my teeth. “I’m sorry, kiddo. You’ll never know how sorry I am you had to imagine those stories.”
She looked down and tracked the ridges on her bed’s blanket. “I imagine lots of scenarios. Sometimes I’ll spend half an hour thinking about what I’d say if I bumped into some random famous person.”
“I do that, too.”
“But you’re a witch, Mom. If you wanted to, you could meet anyone.” She gave me a wide-eyed look. “Anyone!”
“Hmm.” She had a point. There was no door in the world that was locked to a witch.
“Well, almost anyone.” She wrinkled her nose. “I’m sure the Royal Family has supernatural people on their security team.”
“You think so?”
“They must,” she said. “Right?”
We both let the idea sink in. Imagine that! The Queen of England and her witches, shifters, and mages. Her Majesty’s Mages. What a great book that would be.
I leaned back, and the bed rose up to meet me. My body felt so light and yet so heavy at the same time. I wanted to keep talking with my daughter, but I also wanted to feel her cool, cotton pillowcase against my cheek. It was both crisp and soft at once, like a good pillowcase should be. Being horizontal felt so right, so much better than being vertical. I pointed my toes and stretched out my legs.
The spell of sleep crept over me hungrily, like flames over dry wood. I muttered an apology to my daughter, about my battery being drained from flying on a broomstick all morning. She laughed and told me I was delirious. I hadn’t told her about my first flight with Maisy Nix. Now I desperately wanted to tell her all about it, but no counterspell of conversation or coffee was going to keep sleep away.
Wisteria Witches Mysteries Box Set 3 Page 54
