Illicit Magic (7 page)

I took a moment to glance over my shoulder at my reflection. The quick wash hadn’t done much good and the expensive jacket was still no match against Étoile’s exotic printed coat. Even Sidekick’s black suit looked like it had been made exclusively for him. I felt scruffy and insignificant as I nestled between them.

As if sensing my discomfort, Étoile twisted her head to smile magnificently at me with a row of perfectly white teeth, in a way that I was starting to find not wondrous, but a little disconcerting. I imagined she was rather used to dazzling people into comfort, happiness, acquiescence or whatever else she planned for them when she turned it on. So I scowled like a petulant teenager and she seemed amused as she turned back to the doors with a little shrug of her shoulders.

When the lift doors glided back, Sidekick stepped out first and sped off with my bag before I could protest. I exhaled irritably as Étoile gestured that I was to follow her in the other direction. There was another marble foyer to cross, but this one was somewhat smaller than the building’s entrance hall, although just as grand, if not more so. A circular table stood on a pedestal in the centre with a large arrangement of fresh flowers in reds and pinks in a patterned vase. Their perfume drifted towards me in the still air. Heavy gold-striped drapes framed a single window that reached almost to the ceiling and I could see skyscrapers beyond. I couldn’t even guess what the table alone must have cost.

I sidestepped to see the corridor that Sidekick had escaped via; it led off one way and I could see several doors before it turned a corner. It was all I could do not to stand and turn and stare like a tourist in a grand house opening. It was the most elegant lobby I had ever seen. It was bigger than the whole top floor of my flat, never mind my own studio. Two sets of double doors led off the lobby and Étoile knocked firmly at one set before opening a door and ushering me inside.

I don’t know what I expected but it wasn’t the scene in front of me.

There were no black cats or cauldrons, or anything vaguely witchy. Instead, three large cream sofas were positioned around a long, low upholstered coffee table. Occasional tables, with vases of splendid roses in shades of pink and yellow, and pairs of slipper chairs were dotted about the room. It was a room made for coffee mornings, social committees and elegant soirees, not scruffy London orphans. I couldn’t feel more out of place.

Against my better judgement, I sniffed, then thinking better of it, and remembering I did have manners, I tipped my chin up a bit and tried not to look like a fish out of water. I’d just have to bluster through, the same as I did when I got a temping assignment that was way beyond my expertise. Only this time I was in the company of witches and couldn’t just hide behind a stack of filing.
The hell if I would I let my nerves show, though.

A man and woman sat on the furthest sofa. The pair were both elegant and well dressed, though not flashy; she in a cream skirt suit, court shoes and a tidy golden bob; he in a charcoal grey three-piece suit with a striped shirt and tie. They looked like they were in their fifties, but a very well-preserved version of that age.

Another man sat on the adjacent sofa, closer to me. Not only was he much younger but dressed considerably more casual in a white t-shirt with a button-down placket, jeans (albeit expensive ones) and leather boots. With his shaggy blonde hair and big blue eyes, he was straight from an advert for healthy living. Though he was younger, there were physical similarities to the older pair. The square jaw was like the older man’s and I wondered if perhaps he was their son. He had a playful smile on his face and looked mildly curious, but welcoming. He caught my eye and winked at me. I dipped my eyes and a pink blush crept onto my cheeks.
Embarrassing, much!

The older man rose to his feet and approached me, his hand outstretched to shake mine in a double-handed clasp and I caught the glimpse of a Rolex. I’d bet good money he hadn’t bought it from a street vendor. He had a slightly receding hairline with closely cropped, iron grey hair and a smooth accent as he said, “We’re so glad Ms. Winterstorm found you. We were so worried that she was too late.” It sounded like an admonishment dressed up in a welcome and I was a little cross for Étoile’s sake. She sank gracefully onto the sofa next to the young man and was playing on her phone again, her thumbs busily texting. If she noticed the slight, she didn’t give a hint, though her back was ramrod straight, like she wasn’t completely at home.

“She had perfect timing,” I replied, suddenly feeling a little protective of the woman who had zapped me, quite literally, out of the firing – fire – line.

“So she did,” the older man agreed smoothly. His voice had the clipped New York edge that I was familiar with from too much film watching. “My name is Robert Bartholomew and this is my wife, Eleanor. Our son, Marc.” Robert nodded towards the younger blonde man who was lounging on the sofa, one leg slung across the other. I thought he would have looked more at home at the beach rather than in this bastion of New York wealth. I nodded at him briefly and he smiled back warmly, melting me just a little. “You, of course, are Stella.” I nodded and Robert waved a hand, indicating that I should sit next to their son. So, with a brief glance at him, I did.

Eleanor poured tea into delicate china teacups with a trio of gold bands around the edge, from a set that sat on a tray on the low table. “Tetley,” she said, adding hesitantly, as if she weren’t sure she got it right, “Just like home?”

“I’ve barely been away. I don’t think I’m quite ready to be homesick,” I said, then held my tongue when I realised how rude that must have sounded. Eleanor stiffened a fraction before continuing to fill the cup. I added quickly, “Thank you. I appreciate you thinking of me. That was kind of you.” She relaxed and I gave myself a mental kick as I leant forward to accept the teacup and scooped in two heaped sugars. She poured another cup for Étoile and moved to set it on a low table near her before settling back in her space, ankles crossed neatly. She struck me as delicate but very assured, even if she had assumed the “I’ll be mother” role.

“Are you the, uh, council?” I asked the air, not entirely sure whom I should be addressing. I balanced the cup and saucer awkwardly in my hand, unsure whether I should put it down.
What if I spilled on the upholstery, or left a ring mark on the tray?

“Eleanor and I are members, though this is not the whole council,” replied Robert as Eleanor gave a small smile. “We have called a meeting and the council will be here later. As Étoile no doubt told you, they are very much looking forward to meeting you and you will have the opportunity to talk to them.”

“What will we be talking about?” I questioned, wondering what kind of chat went on at committee meetings. Maybe we’d talk about the best breed of black cat, or potions or ... well, I couldn’t think what witches talked about.

“You, in part,” said Robert and I wondered if, perhaps, that should have been a little more obvious.
I had had a strange and long day, I could be forgiven
, I thought. “We will need to decide your future,” he finished.

I considered the last twenty-four hours.
My future looked very different now from what I had planned. Hell, I couldn’t even have planned the past day.
“And I actually get a say in that?”

Robert smiled companionably. “We can’t force you to do anything. You did after all come here willingly,” he reminded me, a small smile playing on his lips.

“I didn’t have much of a choice. Not that I don’t appreciate Étoile turning up in the nick of time,” I added hastily, spreading my hands, the teacup wobbling precariously. “I do, but this all seems very much out of my hands.”

“If you will do us the courtesy of meeting and listening with the council tonight, you will, of course, be at liberty to do whatever you choose. Naturally, we hope that you will take on board what we have to say and listen carefully to our recommendations before you decide anything,” said Robert, and his voice was at once authoritative and open. “It is our wish that you stay safe, above all else.”

“Why am I so special?”
God help me,
I sounded whiny and ungrateful.

Eleanor looked at her husband before answering me herself. “Because you are,” she replied, inflection on the last word, as if that answered everything. I wondered if Étoile had learned evasive lessons from her.

I pondered Eleanor’s answer and wanted to ask more, but I had the feeling that neither Robert, nor his wife, were going to tell me much at this stage. This initial meeting seemed to be about pleasantries, a meet-and-greet and a glance-over, much as I might have gotten at any new temp job, but not a moment to impart knowledge of any great worth.
Well, that could work both ways. Oh well. I had nowhere better to be,
I reminded myself,
I could wait and see what happened.

Eleanor poured another cup and handed it to Robert. He took it with a nod as he moved towards the mantelpiece and seemed to be staring somewhere over my head as though lost in thought. He sipped and returned the cup to the saucer with a delicate chink. He was clearly in no great hurry either.

“Witches have been a part of the world for centuries,” Robert said at last, choosing his words carefully. “I say witches, but, of course, we have been called all sorts of things. Spell-casters, wizards, magicians, warlocks, sorcerers and worse. Witch seems to have stuck in the lexicon. Of course, we have gone to ground for the past few hundred years ever since the ghastly witch hunts that destroyed so many of our kind and others that were accused of being one of us.

“After a few generations, we were relegated to myth and legend, which suited us just fine as we were able to live peacefully once again and regroup. The short version of this sorry tale is this. We’re out. There are those out there who have always been aware of us and have taken advantage of the world’s turmoil to persecute us once again. We have taken steps to gather whomever we can, to draw them to us and protect them.” Robert was getting into his stride, his voice rumbling on and I listened with fascination as he unfolded a history of which I had barely been aware. “Stella, you have a rare gift, an inherited gift. We don’t think you can control it yet, and we want to help you and protect you. We want to keep you safe.”

It was Robert’s last words that chilled me to the bone. “We don’t want to see you burn.”

I shivered. The sight on the television –
earlier today? Last night?
I couldn’t be sure – seemed to have stuck to my eyeballs.
If anyone wanted to protect me from that, well, great. I was hardly going to knock them back without another thought.

“Did you save everyone?” I asked.

Robert shook his head and sighed. “There simply wasn’t time or enough of us to reach everyone. A lot of the craft has simply gone dormant, or died out. There aren’t that many of us with real power, though occasionally some throwback talent crops up and we help where we can.

“Some of the older, more skilled witches went to ground as soon as the attacks came to light in Europe. They will make their way to us, or band together, when they deem it safe. Others are barely aware of their powers and we decided it was safer to leave those who were unlikely to be attacked. Their magic can barely be identified. Some, like you, are on the cusp of realising real power and so it was you we decided to save. We were too late for some.”

“Am I one of these throwback... talents?” I asked as Robert and Eleanor quickly eyed each other.

Robert answered. “No, your magic is strong. It could only have come from your parents.”

As he was speaking, a thought had been creeping up on me and it was out of my mouth before I could stop it. “You knew where I was?”

Robert inclined his head in a brief nod.

“You’ve known where I was for... how long?”
Had they known where I was throughout my long, lonely childhood when I so desperately needed people? Solid, dependable people who didn’t think I was a freak?
I clenched my jaw.

Robert and Eleanor exchanged another glance and it wasn’t reassuring. They had known then. Perhaps they had known where I was for a long time, not just in the few days or weeks that led up to the witch hunt. At least they had the grace to look embarrassed, or I thought they did.

It was Eleanor who answered in her clipped Manhattan accent. “No, we had no idea for quite some time. Not until the last year or so. We couldn’t just pluck you out of England on a whim,” she said. “You wouldn’t have come. Besides, we didn’t know what would become of you for certain.”

“You managed to get a passport for me when it suited you.” I was trying to keep my voice as even and inoffensive as possible. It was tough going.

“That passport is yours. Your name, and your nationality.” I was puzzled.
Hadn’t Étoile handed me an American passport, when I was English?
As I tried to make up my mind whether it was some kind of fraud, Eleanor took pity on me and solved the puzzle. “Your father is American, as you know. You have every right to be here, though he spent many years in England with your mother.”

It was strange to hear these strangers speak about my parents. When I was younger, I often asked many questions about them, but no one seemed to know the answers beyond their names and dates of birth. Letters and numbers on a piece of paper that meant so little and so much. One day they were there, the next they were gone and I was alone. I thought I might have been around five when I last saw them. Too young to form lengthy memories and too young to grasp the answers to my own questions.

“We knew your father well, your mother less so,” said Eleanor, quite smoothly. I noticed that her bobbed hair barely moved and its golden colour was subtly highlighted. “Tonight, when the council convenes, you may have the opportunity to ask more questions, if time permits. Some of the other council members were friends with your parents.”

Robert was ready to take back centre stage as he deposited his cup on the tray with a light clink. “As Eleanor said, you will have the opportunity to meet some of the council members tonight. We have already decided what may be an appropriate route for you... but we will need to be quite sure that we are doing the right thing for you. As I said though, the final decision is yours but do rest assured that we are trying to do our best for you.” I almost missed the look Eleanor flashed at him but Robert didn’t and he shook his head at her, with the barest fraction of movement. He paused then added, “To atone, perhaps, for not finding you sooner.”