Anna's Hope Episode One (15 page)

Anna
looked at her feet.

Why was this
guy always so
brief? She’d seen him be nice before – he could be incredibly
dashing and charming. Just not with her.

Why? Was it her looks, or lack thereof?
Was it because he thought she was weak?

Or did she not even register on his
radar?

“You can sit, Anna.” He gestured to a
seat.

She dutifully sat.

“And you can eat,” he added after she
stared at the empty plate before her for a few seconds.

Obediently
and silently, she reached for
some toast.

She tried to butter it as quietly as she
could, wincing as the elegant silver knife scraped over the bread,
sending crumbs tumbling onto the pristine white tablecloth.

Aaron ignored her. He kept reading his
paper.

He kept ignoring her until she brought a
hand up and rubbed her chest in discomfort.

His eyes snapped up, and he looked on with
focused interest. “How are you feeling?”

“... Okay, I guess.” She kept rubbing her
chest.

He folded his paper, placing it neatly
beside him. He stared at her.

She’d been about to take a bite of her
toast, but instead paused with the bread hovering near her
lips.

After a few seconds, he leaned back in his
chair, crossed his arms, and looked thoughtful. “What did you dream
of last night?”

She blinked quickly, surprised at his sudden
question. She’d heard that some families discuss their dreams over
the breakfast table, but hopefully not with such directness. She
felt like she was being interviewed by the Spanish Inquisition.

Realizing she couldn’t stare at him
blankly forever, she placed her toast down. “Why do you want to
know?”

“Because there is every likelihood you
dreamed of your attacker’s life. With a part of his soul, you’ll –
in part – have access to him. His life, his memories. His dreams,”
Aaron emphasized as he clasped his fingers together and looked
searching.

Anna
couldn’t hide her shiver. It crossed
up and down her back with all the speed of light.

She pushed her toast away.

A part of her didn’t want to share her
dreams – or nightmares – with Aaron. Because, for some strange
reason, they felt personal. They weren’t – they weren’t hers at
all.

She took a sharp breath and
forced herself to speak
“dark stuff, mostly. Rituals, spells,” she stared
at her hands, “crypts, caves. The usual fare of evil wizards, I
guess.”

Aaron didn’t say anything; he
kept sitting there, locking her in his penetrating gaze.
Eventually, however, he leaned forward.
“You’ll be okay, Anna,” he said in a
reassuring tone, “I’ll find out who he is, and the MEC will deal
with him. I’ll leave for work shortly, but you’ll be safe
here.”

Aaron was speaking with a calm determined
tone that could melt any girl’s heart. It was completely at odds
with his usual dismissive attitude towards her.

She opened her mouth, but couldn’t think of
a word to say.

He wiped the marmalade from his fingers
with a pressed-linen napkin and rose to his feet. “My butler will
stay with you all day. You’ll be safe in this house. I built it
myself. I don’t care who this wizard is, he won’t be getting in
without an invitation.”

“So I ... just stay in all day? I mean,
can’t I help?”

Aaron smiled. “The only thing you can do
right now is stay out of his way. Luminaria is right – he will be
back for you. Before midnight, if I’m any judge. He won’t be able
to call upon the soul catcher without a complete soul of his own.
So now is our chance to catch him.”

Anna
scratched at her arm distractedly.
“So I just ....”

“Stay here. Have a bath, change your
clothes, and rest. Considering what you’ve gone through the past
couple of days, you deserve a rest. You can wander through the
house – we have a great number of facilities, both magical and
mundane. Just stay away from the doors that are locked. And, of
course, don’t leave the gardens.”

She nodded.

Aaron smiled again. It was a full cheek
move that crinkled his eyes and reminded her there really was a man
under that often-dismissive façade. “Relax. You’re in safe hands.”
He bowed, turned, and walked off.

“Good bye.” She turned in her chair,
offering a completely unnecessary and unreturned wave as he walked
out.

Really? All she had to do was spend today
resting?

She spread a generous serving of marmalade
on another piece of toast. Then she took her plate over to the
window, sat down, and looked at the view.

Though a niggling pain welled in the center
of her chest, she ignored it.

She was safe.

Anna
stood at the open wardrobe, her
toweled hair dripping down her back.

Crunching her lips together, she thought
about what she should wear.

She was not stylish by any stretch of the
imagination. Anna was textbook frumpy. Everything she owned had
bright, ugly floral and rumples. She always wore socks with skirts,
and had an astounding array of drab knitted cardigans.

Most of her clothes were hand-me-downs, and
usually sat bulkily over her slight frame.

She didn’t have the money or class to afford
good clothes.

Well, right now she was facing a magical
wardrobe that could make her any garment she wanted. She could grab
her phone and look up an award-winning designer, or surf the style
pages for the latest and greatest in elegance and
fashion.

“Are you going to stand there facing that
wardrobe all day?” Luminaria snapped from the bed. “It’s magical,
you know. And the last thing you want is for the sodding thing to
start spitting twee British children at you and fauns with a
penchant for toast.”

“It’s not that type of wardrobe. Plus, I’m
trying to figure out what to wear.”

“How about nothing. It works for
me.”

“You’re a cat.”

“And you’re a frumpy pathetic witch with
no hopes, dreams, or aspirations. Just put on one of your usual
floral affairs, and be done with it.”

Anna
tried to ignore her cat. She didn’t
want to put on a cardigan and frilly white socks today. She wanted
.... Ah! She didn’t know what she wanted.

She rubbed her chest again. Before she
knew what she was doing, she cleared her throat and asked the
wardrobe for “blue jeans, boots, and a navy top.”

The wardrobe closed the door she was holding
onto with a magical fizz.

Anna
stood back and waited.

She heard Luminaria shift on
the bed. “... Seriously, little witch? Do you not realize what
you’ve just asked for? That’s what
he
was wearing last night.”

Anna
gasped, slamming her hand over her
mouth. Oh god, Luminaria was right – she had described his outfit
without even realizing it.

The wardrobe finished creating the garments,
and opened its door with a light pop.

Anna
winced in preparation for what she’d
find. She still had a mental image of that wizard walking down the
stairs in his blue jeans, one hand held languidly in his pocket as
he dragged her behind him with his ghostly grip.

She put a hand up and felt her injured
wrist. The butler was very handy, and had patched it up a treat.
Without strong magic, however, she’d have to wait a while for it to
heal completely.

Warily, she peered into the wardrobe.

She did not see what she expected.

There were blue jeans, boots, and a navy
top, alright – just not the same style. The jeans were tight, the
boots knee-length black soft-suede with a generous wedge heel, and
the top was made of a soft, dark cotton that bunched at the
chest.

She reached in and grabbed the clothes,
biting her lip as she did.

Though Anna was exactly the kind of
self-conscious girl that hated wearing anything tight and
revealing, she found herself dressing in the clothes nonetheless.
She could at least try them on. If they looked hideous, she could
chuck them back into the wardrobe and try again.

She tugged on the top, fidgeted into the
jeans, and zipped up the boots. Pulling the towel from her hair,
she let her unruly mop taper down her back as she opened the
wardrobe again to look at the full-length mirror attached to the
inside of the door.

She ran her hands up and down her jeans.

She looked .... There was a word for it, she
just couldn’t think of what it was.

“Terrible,” Luminaria snarled with a
choppy laugh that echoed through the room as if carried on a PA
system. “You look terrible. You can’t pull off those heels and
jeans – you’re not confident enough. That outfit might be suitably
sexy for a real witch, but we both know you’re not one of
those.”

Just as Anna’s heart sank and she reached
to pull off her top, she stopped.

For the briefest second, she’d felt good in
these clothes. Sure, she wasn’t a match on Merry, but who would
be?

The point was, however briefly, she’d felt
good about herself.

Anna
was aware that she let people
influence her too often. She did what she was told. Blame it on
having a demanding, insulting heirloom cat in the family, or on
magical allergies – but she didn’t stand up for herself.

She never carved out her own path.

“Go on, take it off,” Luminaria encouraged
meanly, “get back in your cardigan and socks. You’re not born to
impress people, Anna Hope Summersville – you’re born to get out of
people’s way. Oh, and feed me tuna.”

Anna
tugged her top down. She turned, her
wet hair flicking over her shoulder. She placed her hands on her
hips. “I’m not taking them off. I think I look good. Or at least
okay,” she said, as confidently as she could.

Luminaria actually rolled
around on the bed laughing.
“You’re an idiot. Get back in your box, Anna.
You’re never going to do anything with your life, so stop dressing
like you will.”

Anna
ground her teeth together and took a
firm breath. “No. And you’re wrong – I’ve already achieved things.
I fought off that dark wizard twice.”

“You must have hit your head last night,
girlie, because I fought off that wizard, not you.”

“He got away from you, Luminaria, and it
was me who thought of destroying his book. Plus, I resisted his
soul magic.” She levelled her chin. These clothes were having an
odd effect on her. She felt confident, even though she wasn’t, just
because in order to wear clothes like this you had to be confident.
It was circular logic, but magic loves circles.

She kept her chin lifted, and she stared
right back at Luminaria.

The cat stopped cackling, and narrowed her
eyes. “There better be a good reason you’re looking at me like
that, witch.”

“There is. I’m wearing these clothes, and
that’s it. And,” she brought a hand up to brush her fringe out of
her face, “I’m going to fix my hair too.”

Luminaria snorted, but the move wasn’t as
loud and rude as her previous display. “He’s not going to notice
you, you know, no matter what you do.”

“... Who?”

“Don’t be so obtuse.
Arana.
That pompous
plastic-faced git. He’s never going to notice a girl like
you.”

Anna
’s stomach sank. Or at least it
started to. She lifted her chin. “I don’t care if he notices me.
I’m not doing it for him.”

“Really?” Luminaria laughed like a
tinkling bell. An evil tinkling bell.

“Yes,” she said firmly.

“You tell yourself that, dear. I’ve seen
the way you look at him, and I’ve seen the way he doesn’t look at
you. He only brought you to stay here so he had a shot at luring
that wizard. Don’t get thoughts above your station,
girlie.”

Anna
took a heavy breath. Without another
word, she turned and marched into the bathroom. Once there, she
found another little magical cupboard that could produce any
haircare or makeup she asked for.

After a good half hour of
experimenting, she found a product that did wonders for her hair.
It turned her riotous mop into
a soft, straight, sleek sheet that
swooshed every time she moved. She could barely believe her
reflection, and she kept patting at her hair compulsively, as if
she wanted to catch the exact moment it would frizz
again.

When it didn’t return to its usual rat’s
nest, she walked out of the bathroom.

Luminaria was no longer in the room. The
window was open, and no doubt the cat had tried an aerial assault
on a bird. She was probably down under some bush somewhere eating
her catch right now.

Making a disgusted face, Anna decided to
explore the house.

Aaron had offered. She wasn’t going to
pass up the opportunity either. The chance to explore more of
Aaron’s incredible mansion – and life – filled her with a kind of
skipping sense of curiosity. Curiosity usually didn’t skip, but
around witches it did. With enough magic, anything could skip, let
alone bubble and fizzle and pop.