“Until we investigate what happened on the Council Estate,” the Crone went on.
“Systematic red tape.” Gran again.
“And until we locate Agatha Darling and listen to her excuse of why she’s…” brief hesitation, “done what she’s done,” the Crone finished.
“Mathilda’s carrying her wand.” That was Ash, being bossy again.
“No.” Hmm, old Prunella didn’t seem to think Ash was all that. “Mavis,” she turned to my aunt, “I trust you to take her wand until our return.”
“She’s carrying her wand.” That was Ash again, his tone the teensiest bit sharper.
The Lady turned sharp eyes on him.
“Sebastian Wilding, you have no authority here,” she put in her two cents.
“I do, Endora, and you know I do. She’s carrying her wand and if she’s fired upon, she’s going to retaliate.”
The Crone butted in. “I’m sorry, young man, but I have to assert the Council’s privilege. By your and her account and our witness, she needs to be assessed. No one with that amount of magic should go about utilizing it until she’s registered.”
“Oh for goodness sake, she’s The Chosen One! What did you expect?” Mom exclaimed.
“If you tell me, Hanna, that you weren’t surprised at the caliber of her Craft, after only, what? Six, seven months of training then I’ll call you a liar,” Prunella retorted.
“Okay, so maybe she’s a little advanced,” Mom allowed.
(Advanced? Yay!!!!)
“Enough of this,” Ash interrupted tersely. “You weren’t there, Prunella, I was. We don’t know what Darling will try next. You never would have expected her to do what she’s already done. Admit it.”
Silence.
Ash kept talking. “If Darling tries something new, something worse, I can’t protect Mathilda against that. You know I can’t. Not if she doesn’t help. She’s already lucky to be alive. I won’t have her handicapped by you taking away her wand.”
Silence.
(I’m already lucky to be alive? Ack!)
“She’s carrying her wand,” Ash finished.
Silence again.
(Okay, so I knew I was already lucky to be alive, but for Ash to say it, out loud. He’s, like, James Bond and The Saint and Shaft all rolled into one, if he couldn’t protect me…)
More silence while everyone stared at everyone else.
Then…
“Fine,” the Crone gave in, but not good-naturedly. “Mathilda, if you’re fired upon, by magic or manmade evil, you are free to do whatever you need to do to keep yourself safe.”
“And my Spellbounds,” I pushed.
The Crone stared at me, impatience etched in her face.
“And whatever I need to do to keep my Spellbounds safe,” I repeated with added detail.
“And your Spellbounds,” she allowed.
“And Ash. Whatever I need to do to keep Ash safe.”
Ash rolled his eyes heavenward.
“Who’s Ash?” Myra whispered to the Lady.
“Sebastian can take care of himself,” Prunella said with exasperation.
“Oh,” whispered Myra.
“Okay. Well then, anyone else I care about,” I said.
“Listen, young woman, you’re lucky I relented on you and the Spellbounds,” the Crone snapped.
“The coven can take care of themselves, I know, but Lucy at the café is not a witch and if anyone tries to hurt her or anyone I care about…”
I was kinda thinking of Aidan but didn’t want to say it out loud.
“So be it!” shouted Prunella, crankier than ever. She turned to Gran. “Minerva, you can tell she’s from your line. Stubborn, too damn stubborn. All right! So be it! But no magic besides that.”
She looked at me as if daring me to say anything else.
“Thanks,” was all I said.
She glared at me some more and then nodded then looked from one of us to the other.
“Damn Honeycutts,” she grumbled. “You’ll be the death of me.”
Oh goddess, I hoped not.
(I wish people wouldn’t talk like that – too close for comfort.)
Then she finished, “I’ll be back.”
Great. I couldn’t wait.
And with that, they pushed off, making a path toward the moon.
Chapter Seven
The Month of May
May 1
I had an old boyfriend who played football (defensive end) who told me the best offense was a good defense.
I think that’s a bullshit way of making the boys who were never going to get any of the glory feel better.
This is what I think: If one side of the team sucks then both of them are going to suck because they’ll all be losers.
So, okay, I can handle the defensive.
But I’m feeling offensive.
* * * * *
Josie:
Not happy with me for magically locking her in the house.
Though, she’s kinda in the “all’s well that ends well” frame of mind.
We discussed Rory and he’s hanging in there but still a little freaked (okay, maybe a lot freaked – have woken up with him beside me doing his casket-training-pose every day for weeks now).
We’ve talked to Delia, one of our coven who’s been a midwife for donkey’s years and decided to get a counseling qualification in order to diversify. She’s going to have a couple of sessions with Rory, see if she can help.
* * * * *
Coven (Defense):
My magic is suspended so will have to gather the troops.
Luckily, I’ve got the Honeycutt Coven, so the troops are good troops.
I’ve asked them to put together some protection spells, amulets, etcetera to cover Rory, Josie, Rory’s school, the wood around The Gables and Poet’s Walk. I want to be able, at the flick of anyone’s wand, to see where either of them are. And, in any of those places, I want any kind of malicious magic to be extinguished the minute it’s born.
We consulted Josie and she’s cool with it. No one wants a repeat of last month.
The Gables are in an uproar. Protection spells of that strength that breadth and that distance… well, they require a lot of magic.
Octavia and Fay have set up a command post in the conservatory.
The kitchen’s a mess (and it stinks).
The greenhouse looks like a tornado has swept through it.
Paulina, Antonia and Rhiannon have commandeered my Tower Room (and my larder).
Lots of dancing in the moonlight and clandestine meetings around boiling caldrons under cover of darkness in various Wiccan hotspots around the village.
Defense covered.
* * * * *
Mavis, Gran, Mom Viv and Su (Offense):
It’s time to gather some intelligence.
The Honeycutt women are going on fact-finding tours.
I want Darling and I want her coven and I want the men who have joined her.
And I want to find out where Douglas Addison fits in with all of this.
Surprisingly, Mom has (eagerly?) volunteered to track and research Addison. Hmm. What’s up with that?
Mavis’s Magic Room is a hive of activity, witches going in, witches going out.
The phones are ringing off the hook.
Barely an hour goes by (day and night) when one of them isn’t sweeping in or out wearing their cloaks and (if night) carrying their broomsticks.
Nothing is coming of it, apparently the witch world is folding in on itself, waiting, watching and keeping their mouths shut.
Probably also deciding which side they’re on.
Offense commenced.
* * * * *
Me:
I went to the library, grabbed the Wiccan White Pages and called everyone in the Edward’s coven – Agatha’s girls.
No one answered their freakin’ phones.
Except one old bitty who said, “Magic? I’m done with that. I see where it’s going and I don??
?t want any part of it!”
Then she hung up.
Went to Mathilda’s Register and tried Eleanora.
“Elly, you there?”
Nothing.
“Elly, Rory was kidnapped and I was struck by lightning.”
Still nothing.
“She used a manmade wand with an electrical cord. Can you believe that?”
Silence.
“The witch world is changing. Elly, I need some answers.”
Zip.
“The W.C. has suspended my magic.”
Nada.
“Elly, girl, I need you to help me.”
“Don’t call me Elly.” The words scripted themselves on the blank page and then vanished.
Finally!
“Elly, honey, do you know what happens next? Do you know where I can find Agatha Darling? What’s her connection with Douglas Addison? Who are her henchman? Where do they live?”
“I’m sorry, Mathilda. I can’t help.”
“Listen, Elly, I know you aren’t supposed to but I’m in a spot. I don’t have magic and the match just got dirty.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Can’t you give me anything?”
“Yes, use this time to study, to meditate, to glory in nature.”
“That’s not help.”
“It is, Mathilda… you have time, use it wisely.”
“I thought I was!”
She ignored me. “And the next time you come to me, ask the right questions.”
Ack!
* * * * *
Ash:
Went to The Dungeon doors and knocked (all right, pounded).
He opened them and stood there, staring down at me, arms crossed on his chest.
Still nothing further after the Big O. He hasn’t asked me out on a date, come in and sat by me while I was watching television, given me a good morning kiss when I struggle into the kitchen for coffee. Nothing. Everything is back to normal with stalwart Ash – distant as ever.
Fuck him.
I don’t have time for that shit.
“You wanted me?” he said.
He wished.
(Well, I kinda did, to be honest, but only because I always pick the wrong guys.)
“We’re going up to Worcestershire, you and me. There’s a witch, used to be in Darling’s coven. I want to talk to her.”
“Who is she?”
“Althea Appleton.”
He shook his head. “Not a good idea.”
So bossy.
“Why?” I asked.
“One, you don’t have your magic. Two, Appleton is a member of a coven which we must consider hostile.”
“Was a member of a coven.”
“So she says.”
Such a know-it-all.
“And three, Althea Appleton is an oracle.”
Hunh?
“A what?”
“Look it up,” he advised and then he went back to The Dungeons.
I couldn’t help myself, I stamped my foot.
I’m never marrying you. I thought towards the door.
And, get this – this is what popped into my head.
Yes you are.
Damn Ash.
* * * * *
Martini Night:
Josie, Lucy, Viv, Su and me and a bunch of fat, green olives, vodka fresh from the freezer, fab stemmed glasses and a stainless steel shaker (we had vermouth but it was on the kitchen counter, too far away to bother).
The Subject of Martini Night: Sebastian Quincy Wilding and the Big O.
Su’s Take: “Why are you worried? An orgasm is an orgasm is an orgasm. Take them as they come – no pun intended, be happy that they come, okay, pun intended, and don’t ask too many questions or they’ll quit coming.”
Josie’s Take: “I don’t know. Sebastian kind of scares me. I think you’re better off with Aidan.”
Lucy’s Take: “Just go to his door, get his ass up here and ask him what he’s up to. Seems to me, if Rory’s sneaking into your room at night to make sure you’re okay, it might be cramping his style. Could be as simple as that.”
My favorite:
Viv’s Take, after everyone else had gone off on new topic of “Where is the craziest place you’ve done it?” Su, of course, won by doing it in a tree, don’t ask me how she managed that feat but undoubtedly some love spell was involved:
“You know, Matty…” Viv whispered to me about the time Su was explaining the delicate act of balancing one buttock on a tree branch, “I saw the way you were after Darling got through with you – sorry, hon, but you were a mess.”
Great.
Then she went on, “It takes a witch’s intuition to read a guy like Sebastian so I’d say he’s falling for you.”
Hmm, seems to me Viv does not know about future-husband-and-father-of-my-two-boys-and-a-girl part of the story.
She kept talking. “It couldn’t have been easy for him to see you in that state. It wasn’t easy for any of us.”
Try being me!
And she kept right on going. “I think he’s controlling himself, trying to stay cool so he can protect you. After seeing you like that, not to mention seeing how well you’d done protecting your Spellbound, well, as you know, magic like that is seriously seductive.”
Er, no, I didn’t know.
“Anyway,” she forged on, “even the strongest man can lose control in the face of that. You know, the whole glamour of danger, glorying in life, celebrating your victory, seduced by your magic thing. I don’t think he intended to move that fast, although I do think he intended to make a move… just not that fast. Now he’s backing off. I may be wrong, but that’s what I think.”
Viv’s so clever.
I asked BecBec later before I poured myself into bed and she just said, ‘Eee… eeeeeee, eeh, eiyah,” then she giggled.
Whatever.
4 May
Finally!
They sure have taken their freakin’ time.
The Witches Council contacted me – sent a rolled up piece of lilac-colored homemade paper wrapped in a black satin ribbon.
Very dramatic.
It said:
On 14 May (the day after my birthday, by the way), at 23:45, Mathilda Guinevere Honeycutt will be tested for Potency of Magical Powers and Craft Integrity. These trials will be conducted at Ladye Bay by Endora Eccles (The Lady) and Seraphina Dingle (The Maiden).
As is custom, The Hag will rule.
Witch Honeycutt can bring her wand or athame (one or the other, not both), her cloak, her broom and one confederate, one familiar and one other.
Kind Regards,
The Witches Council
(Prunella Craddock, The Hag)
5 May
Beltane today.
Not too into the festival of fertility, love, union, yadda yadda, yadda.
BecBec is all crazy about it – made me decorate my tree with bright-colored ribbons (seemed to get happy vibes from tree so maybe not a bad idea).
Everyone else did the celebrating as well as the petal action in their sacred circles and then scattered them in the wood, around The Gables, The Dozen and the school, etcetera. (Couldn’t do it personally due to magical suspension.)
The petals give a little extra protection.
I guess, every little helps.
14 May
My birthday was yesterday.
The Good:
Presents (favorites noted):
Mavis: My own personal flying broomstick decorated with pink, blue and purple ribbons.
Viv (always super gift-giver): Fab, oversized, Jackie O sunglasses.
Lucy: The Practical Magic DVD. “Mate,” she said, “I’m not stupid.”
The Bad:
Josie: St. Jude medallion.
“We have our kind of protection too,” she said.
“But he’s the Patron Saint of Lost Causes,” I said.
She shrugged.
Ack!
The Ugly:
Was sitting under my tree (
Beltane decorations looked kinda raggedy so had to get rid of them), taking Eleanora’s advice and meditating and communing with nature.
(Really escaping Gables where Nerissa had made a little mistake that caused a big explosion and I made the decision that I should be somewhere where I could breathe.)
Was wearing my birthday present to myself – lush mushroom velour yoga bottoms with powder-blue satin drawstring (low riders) and powder blue cami with satin ribbon threaded through to tiny bow at the vee in my cleavage (sweet). Plus zippered velour track top and blue ribbed skull-cap (with sequins knitted in – fab!) because warm weather mysteriously gone with April and now only watery-cold-sunlight. Blech.
I felt him before I saw him but I kept my eyes shut anyway.
When he got close enough, I said, “Well, if it isn’t the brilliant Dr. Aidan Knightly Seymour.”
“Hey, birthday girl,” he said and kissed me on the nose.
A little surprised at the kiss, and felt really nice (as in really) but I still didn’t open my eyes.
“How did you discover my middle name?” he asked.
“Me and the girls, doing a little bit of research these days.”
“Mm,” he mumbled.
Yowza.
Him saying “mm” all deep and both approving and disapproving sounded super-sexy.
Best open eyes.
So I did, saw he still looked hot as ever and I noted, “No longer indisposed, I see.”
“No.”
He was standing, leaning his back against a tree and staring down his nose at me.
Fancy, schmancy blokes who stare down their nose at you – damn them all the hell.
I stayed still (even though I wanted to get up and kick him on the shin), legs crossed, hands resting on my knees with palms up and fingers relaxed.
Calm and centered. (Ha!)
“Where were you?” I asked.
“Can’t say. Sorry, Matty.”
“Hmm. Somewhere where your mobile doesn’t work.”
“Yes.”
Oh.
Wasn’t expecting that answer.
Or any answer.
“Okay then…”
I closed my eyes again and pretended to ignore him.
He sighed. “I see you’re cross with me.”
It was my turn to mumble, “Mm.”
Silence.
Then.
More silence.
Okay, so I couldn’t keep my mouth shut. Patience is a virtue I just do not have. All right?