Joy of Witchcraft (21 page)

And the kids always obliged, prattling on about their creations. Fortunately, Gran was just as forthcoming.

“Well, this one is a cummerbund, of course. I showed you the pattern that morning at brunch.”

“Of course,” I said. If I turned my head to the side and squinted hard, I could see how the tangle of yarn might stretch around the waist of tuxedo pants. I could even
begin
to imagine David wearing it. He’d never do anything to hurt Gran’s feelings. But I was pretty sure Neko would have to be dead and stuffed before he’d loop the crimson disaster around his hips.

Gran sallied on, undeterred. “Once I saw how well the cummerbund turned out, I realized I
had
to do matching bow ties.”

That explained the butterfly shaped monstrosity clumped on the counter. It might even work as neckwear, for some sort of massive cave troll. A man of ordinary human dimensions would have to double the thing up. At least. I said, “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“And this one is my own design,” Gran said proudly, gesturing toward the last, and largest, mountain of yarn. “I’ve always preferred wrist corsages—there’s no chance of tearing delicate fabric with a pin. The roses were a bit of a challenge, but making them twice the size really helped. This way, you won’t have to worry about a bouquet for your matron of honor.”

I caught a real look of terror in Melissa’s eyes. She nearly reached for the bottle of rum, but she recovered enough to stick with her mojito. I braved a response. “That’s incredible, Gran. And it’s so…unusual.”

My grandmother beamed. Melissa recovered first, pushing the plate of Turkey Day Temptations toward her. “Don’t mind if I do,” Gran said, picking out the largest one.

Clara nodded encouragingly. “This wedding of yours is certainly going to be unique,” she said. “Now who did you say will be the celebrant?”

I was on firmer footing here. At least I could answer truthfully. “I haven’t decided yet.”

Clara’s frown was offset by her understanding nod. “But you’ve chosen a venue.”

“Not yet.” I tried not to feel defensive.

“You’ve at least considered invitations, haven’t you? Save the date cards? Have you even drawn up a guest list, Jeanette?”

Melissa earned her matron of honor title by interrupting before I could explode. “
Jane
has had a lot on her plate, Clara. With the move and everything, I’m sure she’s been set back a few days.”

A few days. Weeks. Months.

And part of my frustration—part of the reason I was digging my fingernails into my palms—was that I
wanted
to do all those things Clara had fired off. I was an organized person by nature; I liked to draw up checklists and spreadsheets. And more than anything, I wanted to be take care of my own wedding. I wanted to consider each and every task, evaluate all my options, make the most important day in my life
mine
. Well, mine and David’s. Ours.

But it wasn’t worth explaining all of that to Clara, turning her questions into a fight. She and Gran only wanted what was best for me. So I gave Melissa a grateful smile, and I answered my mother: “All those things are on my to-do list.” In a flash of inspiration, I gathered up my grandmother’s mutant yarn creations and added, “We should put these away so they don’t get dirty!”

And then I picked up the pitcher and topped off everyone’s glass. Because it was Friday night, and the Jane Madison Academy was on Thanksgiving break. And I was desperate for a little fun before serious business picked up again on Monday morning.

I raised my glass. “To ourselves!” I said.

It was an old toast, one we’d first shared more than three years ago, when these women had gathered to rescue me from a series of disasters, all stemming from my discovering I was a witch. From the smiles on their faces, they remembered that earlier toast, those earlier mistakes. “To ourselves!” they said, clinking glasses and laughing.

I made the next round of mojitos. They went perfectly with the leftover Thanksgiving feast we constructed when we raided the refrigerator.

~~~

It turned out, the serious business picked up well before Monday morning.

I was lying in bed on Saturday, listening to rain fall outside as I burrowed deeper under the comforting weight of a quilt. David had stirred hours earlier, taking Spot out for his morning walk. They’d gotten back more than an hour ago; at least, that’s when the smell of coffee wound its way up the stairs.

I must have dozed off in the warm, lazy perfection of it all, because the next thing I knew, David was feathering a kiss on the side of my neck. “Mmm,” I said, not opening my eyes. “This hotel has the best wake-up call.”

I rolled over, ready to invite him to climb under the covers with me. Instead, I found him dressed in a severe grey suit, somber as a pallbearer. I sat up so fast, the quilt slipped to the floor. “Where are you going?”

“Hecate’s Court. The inquest summoned me.”

“It’s the weekend!”

“Not for warders.”

I threw my legs over the side of the bed. “Let me get dressed. I’m coming with you.”

“You might as well wait here. It’s a lot more comfortable. I don’t know how long I’ll be.”

“But…” I trailed off. We’d had this argument already. There
wasn’t
anything I could do, any way I could help him. Instead, he needed me to be strong. Steady. Confident. When he took the stand and admitted to his past mistakes, arguing for Pitt to be held accountable for his own misdeeds, David shouldn’t have to worry about my falling apart at home.

“Be careful,” I said, cupping his jaw in my hand.

“Always.” He turned his face and kissed my palm.

I backed away first. I did that for him because I was his witch, and he was my warder, and that was what he needed. I stayed perfectly still while he left the room. I knew I wouldn’t hear the front door open. He’d use warder’s magic to reach the Court.

I scooped up the quilt and tossed it back on the bed. After pulling on jeans and a bulky cabled sweater, I went back to the quilt, taking an inordinate time to square up the corners, to make it perfect. I returned to my closet and went through the hangers, making sure they all faced the same way.

Everything in the house was too new, too orderly. With only a week under our belts, there wasn’t enough to clean or straighten. Still restless, I headed down to the kitchen, and I wasn’t surprised to find Neko sitting at the kitchen table. “Want a turkey sandwich?” I asked.

He shook his head.

I considered making a plate for myself, but the thought of food curdled my stomach. Better to distract myself with conversation. “How was Thanksgiving with Tony?”

“Fine.”

“Was his family nice?”

“Yes.”

“Did he come back with you?”

“No.”

“Neko—”

He cut me off before I could scream my frustration. “Everything was wonderful—the people, the food, their home. Arizona is gorgeous this time of year. Tony will watch the football game with his father tomorrow, and then he’ll be back to take care of Raven. I had a fantastic time, and I wish I was still there, and I can’t believe the Court called David in for the inquest! I hate that they’re doing this to him, and to you, and I want it all to be over.”

I settled a hand on his shoulder. He was trembling, and I wondered if his insides ached as much as mine. “Let’s go downstairs,” I said. And I led the way to the vault.

The three massive wheels required physical strength to move them. I leaned in to the gears, stretching my legs. It felt good to push against something that couldn’t be hurt.

I stepped back as the door swung outward. Neko peered around me to take in the half-sorted stacks of books. “Oh my,” he said. “I
love
what you’ve done with the place.”

His coy drawl was forced. The line wasn’t all that funny. But we both started to laugh, giggles at first, that grew to guffaws, that expanded to full-blown gales of tension-relieving hysterics. I folded my arms around my belly and clutched my sides, trying unsuccessfully to draw a complete breath. That made me snort, and Neko tutted his disapproval, sending us both to the floor with renewed laughter.

Finally, I wiped away tears from beneath my eyes. I drew one full breath. Another. “Thank you,” I said at last.

He inclined his head gracefully. We both turned back to the books and started the meticulous task of alphabetizing.

In silent agreement, we took a break for lunch, and another for dinner. Neko watched as I finished off the Turkey Day Temptations. He helped himself to a cup of cream. We went back downstairs to organize more books.

And about fifteen minutes after the tall-case clock struck midnight, David walked into the vault. His face was grey. His hair stood on end, as if he’d tried to tug it out by the roots. Furrows creased beside his eyes, deep wrinkles of fatigue that I’d never seen before.

I caught a dozen questions against the back of my teeth, finally settling on, “Well?”

David shook his head. “I can’t tell you.”

“You can’t tell the details! But you can give me a general idea of how it went!”

He rubbed a hand over his face, slowly pulling from his forehead to his chin. When he was through, he seemed to have reached some sort of resolution. “They went through everything,” he said. “From the day I was sworn as a warder till this morning. They wanted to know about the Washington Coven. About my work as a clerk. About Pitt. They wanted to know a lot about Pitt.”

“What did you tell them?”

“Everything I knew. Everything Pitt’s done. And everything I’ve done.” He swallowed hard, his throat rasping as if he were downing crushed glass. “Everything,” he said.

That meant he’d divulged the documents he’d forged, the false path he’d laid in an unsuccessful attempt to frame Pitt before the Head Clerk could do some innocent witch lasting harm.

I wanted to ask more. I wanted to know how they’d reacted. I wanted to learn what they thought about the corruption in their own midst, about the man who’d endangered my students, endangered me, the clerk who’d worked so hard to destroy my magicarium.

But David couldn’t tell me. And I couldn’t torture him any more by asking. Not when he’d already told me, weeks before, exactly what could happen. They could take away his sword and melt down his ring. They could force me to choose another warder.

Instead, I asked, “Are you hungry?”

He shook his head.

I couldn’t think of anything else to say, anything else to do. So I nodded to Neko, leaving him to place the last stack of books on the shelves.

I slipped my hand into David’s, squeezing his fingers just enough to let him know I cared. I led him up the stairs to our perfect bed in our perfect bedroom in our perfect home. I helped him with his suit, with his tie and his shoes. I folded back the covers, and I tucked him beneath the sheets. And then I climbed in on my side and folded my arms around him and held him close, pressing against his unyielding back.

Some time in the night, in the darkest hours when the house was settled and silent, he turned to me. He slipped his arms around my waist, and we stayed like that, not moving, not speaking, just waiting for the sun to rise.

By dawn, something had changed.

I’d lost all faith that the inquest could ever protect us. Clearly, they were intent on punishing David for his past wrongs. Try as I might, I couldn’t make myself believe they were pursuing Pitt with equal vigor. Not if the Head Clerk had been given enough freedom throughout the proceeding to attack us with his monsters.

Maybe it was lack of sleep. Maybe it was the hangover from witnessing David’s abject despair. But as the sun rose, I knew I had to take matters into my own hands. I needed to identify Pitt’s mole
now
, root her out and destroy her, before the inquest concluded. If the Court wasn’t going to protect me, I had to protect myself.

And that started with Raven and Emma. I’d told myself they had to be innocent. If one of them was conspiring against me, then horrific things would have happened before Mabon. They could have brought down my magicarium by dragging their feet through our first semester, and Norville Pitt would have had his victory without lifting a finger.

But I had to test them. I had to be sure.

I’d run through the math a hundred times—the sisters’ plane had landed at National Airport a few minutes after noon. They’d taken the subway into town. They had to walk eight long blocks to Logan Circle, to Blanton House.

“Relax,” David said. “They might have stopped for something to eat.” He sounded calm and soothing, nothing like a man who hadn’t slept a wink the night before. I understood what he was doing. He couldn’t control the inquest, so he was managing everything else.

Even though I knew he was right, I had to turn to Neko. “Did they? Can you sense anything from Kopek or Hani?”

My familiar wouldn’t meet my eyes. He might have been my rock the day before, but now he was upset. He didn’t approve of the rite I was about to perform. After all, Tony warded Raven.

Before I could force the issue, the doorbell rang, a four-note chime denoting a student. I ran my fingers through my hair and muttered a prayer to Hecate for clear sight. David glided to my side, even as Neko slinked closer to the stairs.

David opened the door to a jumble of conversation. Raven was juggling a Starbucks cup and shoving her cell phone down her bra, reaching for her suitcase and tossing some comment over her shoulder to Tony. Hani was talking to Caleb; they were in serious conversation about baseball winter meetings and trades that were expected to start in the next week. Kopek had his usual hang-dog look as he carried his witch’s suitcase. And Emma brought up the rear, outfitted in a peacoat, like some British admiral looking over her domain from the deck of a ship.

Tumbling into the house, they stopped dead when they saw me. Tony flashed a quick glance at Neko before he said warily, “We weren’t expecting a welcoming committee.”

“Warders,” I responded, including Caleb with a jut of my chin. The title made both men stand straighter. Tony’s hand ghosted toward his waist, to the place a sword would hang if he’d been decked out in full regalia. “You may wait in the front room. Familiars, too.”