Chapter Eleven
Indigo
Smothering hugs smoothed over a lot of hurt feelings, but for everything else, there was chocolate.
I sat back in a creaky Windsor chair, sipping from a mug of genuine cocoa.
I had to admit, if only to myself, that I was sneaking a little illicit pleasure from the experience.
In the past, I could taste the food we ate in the back of Lydia’s mind, but it wasn’t the same thing as an in-person experience.
There was so much involved in enjoying a culinary experience that I had been missing.
The heat of the mug was scorching, pulsing much-needed warmth back into my fingers.
The chocolate didn’t add much to the fortitude of my backbone, but that was reasonably secure now as well.
GG had patiently waited for the coven witches to do their work, walking the property lines as they set up wards and an early warning system.
She didn’t actually speak another word to us until we were all seated and facing the head of the table.
It had given me a little time to look around, looking for any evidence that my mother had ever been here.
The thick velvet curtains moved stiffly, barely parting to allow streamers of light through. They fell on a worn hardwood floor, scuffed with the evidence of play and childhood mishaps. GG hadn’t had any scarring of the old wood smoothed out, keeping each groove like a memento.
The dining room had a good view of the sitting room.
The whole house had this comfy, cozy feel to it, and I just couldn’t imagine my mother lounging on any of the overstuffed couches and armchairs.
I also couldn’t picture her sitting at the old typewriting desk, whipping up formulae for spells, or brewing potions with the neatly organized ingredients that were laid out on the top of the desk.
GG would occasionally stop to stir something she’d been working on when we arrived.
It was only the grandfather clock tucked into one corner like an afterthought that convinced me that Mother had ever been in this place.
It was a gorgeous piece, carved completely from mahogany and graced with enough written spell work to make my eyes cross.
It had Mother’s magical signature tucked into the clock face, and it was thrumming with life due to our recent arrival.
If I closed my eyes, I could almost pretend she was in the room with us.
GG caught me looking and cast the grandfather clock a wispy smile.
“She gave that to me when I got married. The clock acts as a supernatural warning system for the mirror. Your mother disapproved of marriage in general, of course, but she wanted me to have advance warning if someone used the mirror.”
Why? I wanted to scream. Why had my mother been mingling with a mundane gypsy woman?
Historically, we weren’t friends. It was beyond strange that Wanda and Poppy were as close as they were.
I’d just attributed their relationship to the fact that everyone in Scapegrace were basically cast outs so they needed one another.
When it came down to it, witches and gypsies couldn’t exist in the same place without one pushing the other out.
Most often, witches won that fight. So, how had my mother gotten so close to this woman that she’d been willing to give such an incredible piece of furniture to GG in order to keep her safe?
“It hasn’t chimed in ages,” GG continued with a sigh.
“I keep expecting your mother to walk through, complaining about this or that. She was a very strident woman, your mother. Very strong. Very opinionated. I didn’t see that a lot in the women of my generation.
It made me like her quite a bit. And I grew on her, I expect.
” She laughed then, as if she were caught in some long ago memory.
“She hated me at first.” She caught me staring and gave me a sly grin.
“I can tell you’re dying to ask, but do wait until everyone is seated, dear. I don’t enjoy repeating myself.”
If she hadn’t added the last bit, I might have exploded into a fresh barrage of questions.
But she was right. It was a waste of valuable time to explain everything twice.
So I sank a little lower into my chair, sipping my chocolate with a sullen frown.
Angelo watched me do it, smirking in amusement.
“Are you more put out that you have to wait for your questions to be answered or that Wanda relied on Maverick to put up the wards rather than you?” GG asked.
Both, but I’d never admit as much to her.
The fact that Wanda found a Blood Warlock more trustworthy than a witch stung my pride.
The worst part was, I couldn’t even argue with her.
Though I knew these witches, they didn’t know me except by reputation, which had been tarnished by my association with a mass murderer.
I couldn’t blame them for disliking me, but it still hurt.
Angelo’s chuckle was as rich and indulgent as the chocolate in my mug.
It was a treat to listen to, but did absolutely nothing for my libido.
Lydia’s was another matter. Her body responded unconsciously, and I glowered at him until he let the power drop with a repentant smile.
The rub was, I didn’t think he was actually doing this on purpose.
GG clucked her tongue reprovingly, covering Finn’s ears. I muttered an apology, and Finn pushed at her hands with a scowl.
“I’m not a kid, GG!”
“Yes, you are,” she said without missing a beat. “In so many ways. Indulge your great-grandma.”
Finn tried to hold onto the creased look of impatience on his face, but like most negative expressions, it couldn’t stick for long. I was shocked the boy could smile after the ordeal I’d put his friends and family through.
GG plucked up one of Finn’s hands a second later, lifting it to the thin ribbon of illumination that fell on the table.
A black smudge on his hand resolved itself into a number, though I wasn’t close enough or interested enough to investigate further than that.
She examined the number in silence before letting out another, longer sigh.
“I wondered,” she said. “I saw the book in the background of one of your mother’s photos. I’d hoped I was wrong. I hoped the magician’s blood died with Henry.”
Finn stared up at his great-grandmother, slack-jawed. “Great-Grandpa Henry was...”
His gaze flicked down to his hands. When he held them up to the light, I could see still more numbers seemingly inked into his skin.
I might have called them tattoos if any tattoo parlor was unscrupulous enough to ink someone so young.
Even so, I couldn’t imagine his mother being thrilled by the prospect.
“A magician, yes,” GG whispered, eyes fixed into the middle distance, reliving whatever horror put the look of desolation on her face. “For a while. It changed, after the war. He did also. The magic... soured—and he wasn’t the same good man he had been.”
I could imagine. Not every spell was rooted in emotion, but it was fantastic fuel for large or complicated spells.
To have someone with that raw potential lose control due to shell shock or injury was too easy.
I’d been the one looking for an outlet for the fear and rage for a long time.
I’d done the same thing when the war had touched me. I’d soured too.
“You never told me any of this, Grandma,” Poppy said but her tone wasn’t angry or disappointed. It just was.
GG looked over at her granddaughter. “I waited until the time was right. Such as it is now.”
“Magicless,” Finn interrupted quietly as he looked at his great-grandmother. “That’s what happened to grandpa. When magicians go bad, they’re called magicless. Which is a bit misleading, since they do have magic, it’s just... bad.”
He stared down at his fingers again, this time in thought.
For the first time, it seemed to occur to him that something similar could happen to the power he possessed.
It was a good sign that the thought of corruption disturbed him.
If he was on guard against it, he was less likely to fall to temptation.
Like me.
GG’s eyes were far away and a little sad. “Regardless, he left. I think he knew what was coming. He left to spare me and the children. That’s when I reconnected with your mother, Indigo. I was looking for answers. And she had them for me. More than I wanted, if I’m honest.”
Betanya, Olga, Imani, and the loathsome warlock filtered in over the course of minutes.
I swore GG’s grin grew with every impatient twitch I made.
Maybe she’d gotten answers from Mother, but I never had.
I was still murky on how Mother had even met Murrain.
And why she’d fled from him, in the end.
Having the answers so close at hand without being able to ask the questions was irritating beyond belief.
“How did you meet my mother?” I asked, the question bursting free of me at last. “I mean, we’re supposed to hate each other.”
“Are we?” she asked, head canted to the side.
It made her look like a bird with snowy plumage.
“Or is that just something you tell yourselves so you don’t have to challenge your perceptions of magic?
” She didn’t wait for me to respond. “Cassandra knew that magic is at its greatest when we share it.”
“What was she to you?” I demanded. “You talk like you know her better than I did.”
GG sat primly, dropping into the space between Poppy and Finn.
Both were staring at her, the former in unflattering disbelief and the latter in starry-eyed wonder.
Poppy almost drew her hand back when GG reached for it.
Hurt flickered far back in GG’s eyes, but she accepted the rebuff with stoicism, letting her own hand swing back to her side.
Clearly, this whole thing was now getting to Poppy.
Maybe she’d just been in disbelief earlier.