Magic and the Modern Girl (28 page)

Commune, not coven. This was something new to all of us, and we were just going to have to feel our way through our arrangements. David had never led me astray before, when we’d plotted my place in the world of witchcraft. He had to be right this time. He had to be right, or I was truly, completely screwed.

A crash from the kitchen punctuated that thought, and Clara called out. “Majom, come out here and sit with us.”

The boy appeared in the doorway. One hand was hidden behind his back. “I want to stay in here.”

Clara answered with an indulgent tone I’d never heard before. “You can go back there later. For now, come sit beside me on the couch.”

A tiny braid of jealousy frayed inside my belly. Would Clara have spoken to me like that if she’d been around while I was growing up? Would she have patted the cushion beside her and settled an easy hand on my hair, tousling it with a smile as she extricated a pewter napkin ring from my grimy, closed fist? Fat chance that we’d get to that point now, with her chomping at the bit to move back to Sedona.

I glanced at the clock. “I don’t know where David is. He should have been here by now.”

Gran shrugged. “Traffic was terrible. That Artistic Avenger blocked all of Constitution Avenue with her display.”

I felt like I’d been punched in the stomach. “Artistic Avenger? What Artistic Avenger?” I faked the question.

Gran clucked her tongue. “I know you’re busy at work, dear, but you really should make time to read the paper. Your anima is famous. There was an article about her in the Style section on Monday.”

Clara chimed in, as if we were presenting Current Events in homeroom. “And there was another one in the Metro section today.”

“Oh,” I said weakly. “I just hadn’t heard her called that. Artistic Avenger?”

Gran laughed, a tinkling silvery sound that I hadn’t heard in ages. “That’s the name she’s chosen. George actually suggested inviting her to the wedding, if we can figure out how to reach her. Such a celebrity! She would make our little get-together memorable.”

Yeah. She’d do that all right. This wedding stuff was now officially out of hand.

Before I could discourage Gran from inviting my greatest arcane failure into the orange-and-silver chaos that was shaping up to be the Public Embarrassment of the Year, my front door swung open. Neko and David ducked inside, bringing with them a whiff of autumn freshness.

As Neko launched into a tale of blocked traffic and magically induced chaos, I met my warder’s eyes. He offered a tight nod of a greeting, then I saw his gaze dart around the room, flicking against the closed doors to the basement, the bathroom, my bedroom.

Surely, he could not tell what had happened over the weekend. Surely, he had no way of knowing about the midnight dinner I had shared, the easy breakfast I had enjoyed, the two stolen days of playing. Surely, he did not know about Will.

Clara spoke first, breaking a silence that didn’t have time to become uncomfortable. “I hope that you’re going to show us more about potions, Jeanette. I’d love to brew something that will strengthen my perception of auras, with Majom’s assistance, of course. We’ll be able to do so much together, once we’re back in Sedona. Once we’re home.” She cast another fond smile at the boy.

Right. Auras. Like those really existed.

Maybe she’d remember my real name when she was back in Sedona. Back where she belonged.

But we’d better get started, if we were going to find out anything about regenerating my own powers. It might take ages to get Gran and Clara up to speed. And with the Artistic Avenger making herself the talk of the town, it seemed as if I was going to need my power even more than I’d expected.

“I have to warn you—I’ve never been a real expert on potions.”

“Maybe that’s for the best,” David said. His voice was calm, courteous, steady with the perfect dispassion someone might show in a grocery store as they decided whether the Granny Smith apples looked better than the Winesaps. “You never really focused on developing your powers with potions, so they probably haven’t been as deteriorated by the recent…lapse.”

Lapse. Yeah. That was a good term for it. Better than “the recent unpleasantness,” which is what I’d thought he was going to say. He fixed me with a pointed stare and said, “Why don’t you and I bring up some supplies from downstairs? Everyone will be much more comfortable if we work here in the living room.”

That sounded perfectly reasonable. But I had no desire to go down to the basement with David. No desire to be alone with him at all. Not if he was going to lecture me about Ariel. Not if he had some way to sense what had happened with Will.

“Neko!” I said, as if my familiar were my favorite person on the face of the earth. “Why don’t you help me! David can…David can explain to Gran and Clara more of the basic theory behind potions!”

Neko, traitor that he was, looked to David for approval. I actually felt a little weak with gratitude that my warder consented. Neko followed me into the basement.

“So,” he said, as I knelt beside the bookcases to excavate some muslin bags of dried herbs. “What were you doing with the light spell Friday night?”

“You felt it?”

“Of course.” He sniffed. “I always feel it when you work magic.”

“What? You never told me that before!”

“You never asked.” He glided away, with all the aplomb of a tabby seeking out a stripe of sunlight.

I couldn’t keep from asking even though I dreaded the answer, “And David? Can he feel me, too?”

Neko snorted. “Of course. How do you think he tracked you down the first night you ever worked a spell?” I remembered that night, as clearly as if it had happened yesterday. Then, thinking of what
had
happened yesterday, I blushed.

Neko whirled on me as if he’d heard my capillaries flood. “Do tell, girlfriend!”

“It’s nothing!” I said, and I grunted as I got to my feet. With the Grand Inquisitor here, I might have done better to try my luck with David.

“Nothing, like showing off your powers for an unsuspecting beau? Or nothing, like luring a man completely into your bed?”

“That’s none of your business!”

“Was he good?”

“Neko!”

“Oh.” He pursed his lips into a pout. “I’m so sorry, girlfriend.”

“Neko, you are just saying that so I’ll give you details! I am not going to tell you one word about what happened Friday night. It is absolutely none of your business who I see when I’m not busy with witchcraft things.”

“Not much busy-ness with witchcraft things these days, is there?”

His matter-of-fact barb made my belly turn. Chagrined, I loaded my familiar down with bags of herbs, adding a silver wand for good measure. I turned on my heel to storm up the stairs in front of him.

Neko smiled archly as he set my arcane treasures down on the coffee table. While my love life had been clinically dissected under my familiar’s microscope, David had wrestled Clara, Gran and their familiars into order. Each woman was sitting on an end of the couch, her assistant nestled close to her side.

Majom was picking idly at some spangles that dripped from Clara’s sleeve. I wouldn’t have been surprised to see him place one of the sequins on his tongue, experimenting with the taste. Nuri nestled close to Gran, as if the couch were too crowded for four to sit comfortably. She kept a wary eye on all of us, tilting her head to a precise angle that always kept Gran in her sight. Her fingers clenched and unclenched in her lap, and I wondered if she was even aware of the gesture.

“Okay,” I said, scowling at Neko as he sniffed the air. What was he going to accuse me of next? Committing Downward-Facing Dog in my own living room? “Potions.” I sat down on the rug, across from the couch. Neko obediently settled beside me, resting against my knee with a comforting, familiar pressure.

Gran and Clara both leaned closer to me. While my grandmother’s face was etched with a solemn politeness, Clara’s eyes were narrowed. I recognized her expression as one of intense concentration. For one moment, I glanced at David, wondering if I could live up to Clara’s expectations. If I could live up to my warder’s. I caught his chin dip in the most minute of nods.

It wasn’t much. It certainly wasn’t a vote of confidence. It would never substitute for the dozens of conversations that we probably needed to have, somewhere, someway.

But it was permission to proceed. It was a statement that I was in charge, at least for now. That I knew what I was talking about, that I could lead the women in my family deeper into the ways of witchcraft, into the magic that I had once studied and mastered. That I could begin searching for a path out of the dark forest where my magic was lost.

“Potions,” I said again. “Potions can generate some of the strongest magic, because they distill arcane essences, refine them and combine them in new and powerful ways. For example, we can cleanse our…auras…by creating a purifying potion, a draft that will wash away negativity and evil. We can start with three separate elements—galangal root and fennel and water collected under the light of a full moon—and combine them into one.” I dug in one of the muslin sacks to produce the necessary dried ingredients.

When David set a silver flask in the center of the table, I tried not to flinch. I’d seen the flask for the first time almost a year before, when I’d prepared for my magical workings with the Washington Coven. “Thank you,” I said, taking care to keep my voice even. He merely nodded an acknowledgment, stepping back out of the range of my vision.

His presence wasn’t even required here. We weren’t going to do anything dangerous. We weren’t going to summon any substantial power (maybe none at all, on my part). But I knew better than to suggest that he leave, even if I was desperate to avoid talk of the Avenger, of Will. I smothered my restlessness with a sigh and said to Gran and Clara, “Take a sniff. The galangal is Chinese ginger. You should recognize the aroma of the fennel.”

Gran exclaimed, “They have fennel seeds at the Indian restaurant that Uncle George likes so much!”

I nodded. “Because they purify. They freshen the breath, but they also purify the space around them.”

Clara jumped in eagerly. “We used to have galangal at the co-op, in Sedona, but I haven’t been able to find it anywhere out here. The tea centers me in my fourth chakra.” She fluttered dramatic fingers over her heart.

I bit back a typical exasperated response, even swallowing the suggestion that she return to her precious Arizona co-op now, rather than after the wedding. I needed to keep her here for a while yet. I needed her help; she and Gran appeared to be my last hope of ever practicing witchcraft again.

I made my voice steady and said, “Exactly. Now, we can take a silver vessel and add the rainwater.” I didn’t even bother to be surprised when David produced a trio of silver cups from somewhere. I recognized their design from a display we had at the Peabridge; they were classic examples of colonial simplicity, memorialized by Thomas Jefferson and other founding fathers. Yet another warder’s trick, having them on hand, I supposed.

I poured some rainwater into one and felt the faintest thrum, like a piano note that had been struck once and left to fade in a concert hall. I could sense the potential in the pure liquid, the teasing sense that I’d known its power long ago, that once I could work magic.

Neko must have felt the magic, as well. He leaned in even closer, matching his entire body to mine, from hip to shoulder. With another person, it might have been awkward to move with that pressure; it might have felt unbalanced. Here, though, in the comfort of my living room, it felt destined. It felt
right
.

Setting my hopeful apprehension aside, I brewed the potion. I showed Gran and Clara how to add the ginger-root, how to swirl in the fennel seed with a careful application of the silver wand. I reminded them of the proper hand gestures, the ritual offering of thought and voice and spirit as they touched their foreheads, their throats, their hearts. I encouraged them to reach out to their familiars, to bring Majom and Nuri into the magical working as mirrors, as reflections of magical strength. I told them the words to use, the formula that had been passed down from one witch to another through the ages.

And I sat back to watch the magic unfold.

My potion was an utter failure. No matter how much I trusted Neko to reflect my powers back to me, nothing ventured led to nothing gained. The combination in my silver cup remained ordinary dried roots and seeds, floating in a splash of clear, mundane water.

Clara caught on first. Her open mind worked to her advantage as she fiddled with magical things. I might criticize her for believing in the Vortex, for sensing harmonies in the earth, for babbling on about people’s auras. But she was able to harness her magic far better than most first-time witches, and I could only assume that some of her mumbo jumbo was actually real.

Gran struggled, though. At first, she couldn’t remember the words. Then she added the fennel seeds before the galangal. The third time, she was so nervous that she knocked over her cup, spilling water across the coffee table and sending Majom scrambling into the kitchen for a towel.

When she hunched forward on the couch for her fourth try, Nuri edged up beside her. The red-haired woman stretched her arms wide, making Gran and Majom lean backward, but then she clasped the silver cup in curled, confident fingers. “Try again,” she said, and her smoky voice was softened by a secret urgency that made her whisper.

And with Nuri’s help, Gran brewed the potion. She added each ingredient in order. She swirled the resulting mixture precisely in its cup, counting out loud to make sure she did not wait too long before decanting it.

As she worked, I felt her magic rising. I sensed it across the table, like the electric tingle of a storm in the distance. The instant that the potion clarified, the precise second that it crested its magical potential, I felt a charge leap out, a power that I could see, that I could feel, that I could actually
taste
, even though it was not my own. That force, without any sort of personal arcane buffer, was enough to knock me backward. I caught myself with my hands behind me, suddenly aware that David was keeping me from falling farther. His legs were warm against my shoulders until I leaped to my feet.