“You are tired right now,” Maisy said, her gaze fixed on the stones. She appeared to be reading them, like a witch in a fairy tale reading tea leaves or bones. “Your energy is low from lack of sleep and contact with a spirit’s death rage. However, you have plenty of energy in reserve. More than you’ll ever know.” She looked up at me, her coffee-black eyes twinkling within her angular features. “Zara Riddle, I deem you safe for flight. Now get over here, and stop being an OCW.”
Here goes nothing, I thought. I stepped over the ring of pebbles so as not to disturb them. Her diagnostic reading hadn’t instilled me with much confidence, but it didn’t need to. I really, really wanted to fly.
She talked me through a quick review of the body buoyancy spell, and then I cast it on her. Flawlessly, I might add. She took a test hop, soaring high in the air and whooping before floating down, landing with the grace of Mary Poppins, but without the umbrella. Seeing her float down jogged something in my memory. One time, I’d been falling from a bell tower window and in grave danger before I’d magically pushed out the skirt of my costume to cushion my descent. I should have used the body lightening spell! Quel stupide, as the French witches say.
Or perhaps not. It did take some time to work through the phrasing. Given the height of the bell tower and the limited descent time, I would have needed to have begun casting it before I went out the window. And if I’d known what was coming next in order to start casting, if I’d had such powers of reading the future, I might have made a few other different choices. So many different choices.
Maisy clapped her hands in front of my face.
“Focus,” she barked. “No daydreaming on flights. Not unless you want to get intimate with the side of a mountain.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “I mean, yes, ma’am.” I held out my arms. “I’m ready to get buoyant.” Holding out one’s arms had nothing to do with the spell, yet it felt like the correct body language.
“It’s already done,” Maisy said with a smirk. “And, look. You’re still alive.” She turned toward the broomstick, which was hovering near us, at hip height and parallel to the ground. “Do you want front or back?”
“Uh...”
“I’m kidding.” She threw one long leg over the broomstick. “Novices always ride the rear. Hop on!”
* * *
You’d think flying a broomstick would feel like riding a motorcycle, and in some ways it did.
As we banked left or right, I had to follow Maisy’s lead, leaning my torso into the turn. Diving downward felt like barrelling down a roller coaster, and soaring upward made my insides—though lightened by the spell—feel heavier than the rest of me. But a motorcyle’s movements are limited by the plane of the road surface. On the broomstick, there were no such limitations. Or so I quickly discovered when Maisy told me to hang on, then took us into a high Yo-Yo, an unloaded extension, rolling scissors, and finally, just when I’d relaxed my grip, a defensive spiral.
She called back over her shoulder, “Maneuvering is all about making trade-offs between airspeed, which is kinetic energy, and altitude, which is potential energy.”
“Consider me impressed,” I said, catching a mouthful of her silky black hair in my mouth. There was an anti-wind spell in effect that reduced our friction and kept the rushing air from affecting us, but a little wind came through, plus Maisy had a tendency to whip her head back and forth as she got more excited. I didn’t know my fellow witch very well yet, but she was, without a doubt, a daredevil.
“You haven’t seen anything yet,” she said, whipping more silky black hair in my face.
“Is this what you were doing on Friday night? Practicing combat maneuvers? Is there someone else who can corroborate your alibi?”
“Look down,” she said.
I leaned over and looked at the mountain we were cresting. The air here was ashy, and the ground was smoldering. The forest below us lay in charred ruins. Now I understood where she had been, and how she’d been of service to the community.
No words came to my lips. The devastation below was heartbreaking.
“I was with a team fighting the wildfire,” she said.
The ruined land stretched out below us for miles. It must have been quite the battle to fight back the wildfire. I felt slightly ashamed. Now that I saw how much the mountainside had suffered, I wished I could take back my petty complaints about having a slightly dry throat from the smoke.
“Thank you for your service,” I said in awe.
“It’s hard work, but I have to admit it’s fun, too.”
“Fun?”
“Zara, I’m Flame Touched. The gift you have with spirits, I have it with one of the elements. Fire.”
“What about water? Isn’t that a better way to fight fire?” Even as I asked the question, I heard my mistake. Water wasn’t the only way to fight fire. I knew that. But my brain wasn’t working the way it would have been if I’d been standing at the Information Desk at the library.
“I was part of the squad doing a controlled burn,” she explained. “My main job is to cast lines of fire downward, to prevent the spreading fire from picking up more fuel as it travels across the land. I also drop off some of the smokejumpers—the ones who are members of a special elite squad.”
“That’s incredible. You’re a hero, Maisy. And not just because you make the world’s best coffee.”
She turned her head enough to look me in the eye. “And why do you think it’s the world’s best coffee?”
“No way! You use magic to roast the beans?”
“Every batch.”
We suddenly dropped several feet. I gripped Maisy tighter. The broomstick shuddered like a motorcycle misfiring.
“We should land soon,” Maisy said. “You’re a drag on my resources.”
“Sorry about that.”
“Don’t be. Once you get trained up, you’ll be an asset. Every witch has got to start somewhere.”
We took a slow, comfortable bank to change direction, and flew back toward the logging road from which we’d come. The ash in the air faded as we passed from smoking ruins to lush green forest once more.
There was a PING, not unlike the door-ajar warning of a land-based, normal vehicle.
“That’s odd,” Maisy said. “We’re picking up something on the radar.”
“You mean like an airplane?”
“Smaller. But it’s not a bird.” She leaned to the side to lift one hand, and pointed to the sky ahead. The broomstick immediately shuddered again and lurched under us. Maisy quickly placed her hand back on the stick and regained control. “Sometimes I forget I shouldn’t try to point,” she said. “The incoming object is at two o’clock.”
A shape that was familiar—to me, anyway—came into view. Ribbons flapped his way toward us on glittering green wyvern wings.
“That’s no incoming object, that’s Ribbons,” I said. “Have you met my wyvern friend before?”
“Not formally. And I don’t see anything. I’ll have to take your word for it, and the radar’s.”
Ribbons soared past us, did an impressive aeronautical maneuver there was no term for, and flew alongside us at shoulder height.
“Fancy meeting you here,” he said coolly.
“Ribbons, meet Maisy Nix. Be polite and make yourself visible to her.”
His appearance didn’t change for me, but I could tell by the jolt of muscle tension that went through Maisy Nix when she was able to see him.
“A wyvern,” she breathed. “How wonderful to meet you, sir.”
He must have replied telepathically to her only, and it must have been something cheeky, because she giggled like a little girl. I tried very hard to not feel pangs of jealousy. He was my wyvern. I kept him in clean towels and maple syrup. How dare he flirt with some witch he didn’t even know!
To me, Ribbons said, “You’ve got to come home, Zed.”
“That’s where I’m headed. More or less.” A note of alarm might have registered in my nervous syst
em. It was hard to tell on top of the adrenaline and magic of flying. “Is something wrong? Is it Zoey?”
“She’s upset. You left the house without leaving a note, Zed. You’re supposed to leave a note. You know the rules. You’re the one who makes the rules, Zed.”
“I know, I know,” I said.
Maisy asked, “What’s going on? Family emergency?”
“My daughter’s upset with me.”
“She’s sixteen, right? If I know teenagers, that’s got to be an everyday sort of problem.”
“My teenager isn’t like the regular ones.” I leaned down and scanned for the road and the car. “Maisy, I appreciate you taking me for my first flight, but I should be getting home. When I left the house this morning, I forgot to leave a note.”
“Why didn’t you say so?” She clucked her tongue, like a rider asking her horse to speed up, and the broomstick nearly shot out from beneath of us. Ribbons used his throat to make a guttural sound similar to YEEEEHAW!
We soared past the logging road, Maisy’s car, and over the outskirts of town.
“But what about your energy?” I asked. “And the risks of using the sky-cloaking glamour spell over town?”
“Hasn’t your aunt taught you the greatest skill a witch can master? It’s how to downplay your abilities so that everyone underestimates you.”
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 indignance 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 something 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.
Wardens of Wisteria (Wisteria Witches Mysteries - Daybreak Book 1) Page 22
