Chapter 26
A fter work on Friday evening, Lucy hesitated outside the door to Mulligan’s jewellers.
Nervously, twisting the ring on her finger, she considered that if she couldn’t reverse what her family had done to their elements, then the least she could do was help Benedict remain in control. She also didn’t want him to attend another coven meeting without a ring and have them think she wasn’t putting in the same amount of effort as he was. Had that been his reasoning for giving it to her? She hoped not, but the doubt was enough to taint the gesture.
Inhaling deeply, Lucy forced herself inside. Mr Mulligan sat behind the glass counter, polishing some rings.
“I was wondering when the young Ms Hawthorne would darken my door,” he said, eyeing her hand.
“With the festival and everything else, I haven’t had a chance,” she said, wishing she’d come sooner.
“No worries, dear; I don’t think Benedict even thought about his own. I told him I could make a pair, but he wanted yours as soon as possible. Even had me rush-order the stones!” Mr Mulligan said, wheeling himself out from behind the counter.
“I’m ashamed to admit it, but the thought of binding rings had slipped my mind until he sprang it on me. I wanted to place an order for Benedict. I don’t have his ring size, but since he gets most of his stuff here, I figured you would.” Why am I prattling on like this? It’s only a ring.
A ring signifying your spending eternity together, her subconscious taunted.
“Gwendoline mentioned you made the Matherson signet ring he wears from a fallen meteorite?” she asked, ignoring her thoughts.
Mr Mulligan moved around the workshop, putting the polished rings back in their cases. “I think I’ve got some fragments left. He’ll love it,” he said, adjusting the magnified glass under the lamp on his workbench. “Would you like to add the same stones as your own?”
“Yes! If you could engrave the infinity detail from mine but with stones set into the band rather than on top? If it’s possible.” Benedict wouldn’t want anything to stand out too much, and the stones would help with his element.
“The meteorite is hard to manipulate, but I can use a spell to make it work.” He looked through the small drawers fixed to a unit of the wall filled with all the materials he could need. “I should have just enough fragment left to make the band – must be fate.” Tipping a tiny meteorite stone into his rough palm, he wheeled his way back to the counter. “How’s this?”
“Perfect! It should match the others he wears perfectly.” She didn’t want anything to detract from the signet ring he never took off.
“When would you like to pick it up? I guess this is another rush order, since there isn’t long before the big day.”
“I don’t want to put you under any pressure; it’s my fault for leaving it so long. How much time do you need?”
“Shouldn’t take too long. I’ll give you a call when it’s ready for collection… and I might have already formed a band for him, just in case you stopped by.” Mr Mulligan winked.
“I can pick it up whenever. I might be delayed if I’m working at my stall for the festival, but I’ll sneak away when I get a chance,” she said, trying to contain her elation.
“Toffee apples again?” He beamed, putting the pieces for her order on the work bench behind him.
“Wouldn’t be a festival without them!” She was looking forward to them herself. The best part about making them was being able to eat as many as possible.
“My favourite,” he said, patting his stomach.
“I’ll save an extra one for you. The least I can do for the rush orders we’ve put you through.”
“I’ll look forward to it, but it’s no trouble. Benedict ordered extra stones just in case, so I don’t have to wait for them,” he said, writing up a receipt.
“I insist – as many apples as you like, free of charge.”
“Thank you,” he chuckled, handing her the carbon copy of the receipt. She didn’t even want to look at the price, but since it would be the only binding ring she’d ever buy, it was worth it.
The air felt thin as the thought settled in. They were going through with it.
“Good thinking with the dark stone. He’ll be pleased to see how well you know him. Certainly makes my job a lot easier,” Mr Mulligan said.
“It’s easy when you’ve known each other forever.”
“Pardon me for saying, but I was only saying to my granddaughter how you both make a fine match,” he told her. “She was here when Benedict came in to collect your ring. She’s only eight, but any mention or rumour of bindings and she’s obsessed with the idea of loving someone forever.”
Lucy smiled. She wished it was so easy, to find someone and just love them. Yet in a way, she wondered if she’d always loved Benedict; they’d spent most of their lives together, and she had never truly wanted any harm to come to him. As troublesome as he was, she couldn’t imagine her life without him, whether they were bound or not. He was a constant in her life that she was sure she’d miss if he was gone.
“Sorry for rambling on– it was my roundabout way of saying congratulations,” Mr Mulligan said, waving a hand as she moved to pay him. “No rush on that, you can pay on collection.” He placed the order request under a magnet on his workbench behind the counter. “Need to make sure you’re happy with the work first.”
“I’m sure it’ll be perfect.” Lucy tried not to chortle. She was putting more care and thought into the ring than she had about agreeing to be bound to Benedict in the first place! “Thank you again for the rush order. I’ll let you lock up.” She hadn’t realised how late it was until she’d noticed the clock on the back wall.
“Get home safe!”
She stilled by the door.“If Benedict comes in, please don’t mention the ring?”
“My lips are sealed.”
Lucy found herself still smiling as she headed home. She kept picturing Benedict’s face when she gave it to him. He’d smile, hopefully, which always felt like a big win. She almost got more joy out of making him smile than his usual scowl.
Outside the gate to Hawthorne House, she stopped, reminding herself they weren’t actually engaged. But Benedict was right when he’d said that just because they’d agreed to be bound for political reasons, it didn’t mean they shouldn’t take part in what everyone else got to experience. Like others before them, they were deciding to spend this life and the next with each other. Maybe it was okay to be excited about that.
“I think we have some things to discuss.”
Lucy winced, stalling on the porch steps when she saw her mum sitting in Grams’s rocking chair. They’d managed to avoid each other since the incident at the manor, mostly because Lucy had been kept busy with the arranging of the festival and the library. Getting up before her and getting home late also helped. Thankfully, her mum had also been distracted arranging her retirement adventures with Lucy’s dad.
“Everything’s fine. Thank you for helping at the manor the other day,” Lucy babbled. Rain was pouring off the roof; she just wanted to get inside and get dry.
“Not so fast. You can’t avoid me forever,” Mum said, patting the seat on the porch swing.
“I’m tired. Between the library and the festival, I’m desperate for a cup of tea and my bed. I promise I’ve got everything under control,” Lucy pleaded, wanting to be left alone.
She’d done enough talking at the festival meeting earlier in the day about last-minute details for the festival’s opening night dance tomorrow – a special way of welcoming everyone to the town, and also of getting them drunk on pumpkin punch, so they didn’t care how much they spent at the market stalls. Her ears were still ringing from Mrs Crawford’s demands for more chaperones. More often than not, some of the underage magic folk managed to get hold of a few cups of pumpkin punch. Last year they’d turned the town hall into a giant jack-in-the-box. Terrifying and hilarious, but illegal, and there had been more than a few complaints from the magless. Thankfully no one had been hurt. Benedict had agreed to double the number of chaperones and bottle the punch just to get out of the vamp bar before night fell. She’d expected him to ask her why she hadn’t got started with the curse-stripping potion, but it had never come up. Then again, he’d been busy with the Manor, sorting out the mess created by the wolves and the burst pipe. A lot of guests had wanted to check out, but after some damage control and a massive amount of charm, he’d managed to make everyone forget about all the drama.
Anyway, she couldn’t use the brewing room at home because she was trying to avoid her family. It wasn’t like she was delaying intentionally.
“You’re under a lot of pressure, but I want – need to know that everything is fine,” Mum said, closing the book on her lap. “I want you to drain the water from that flower-pot.”
“I forgot to water them this morning. They could use a good soak.” Lucy reached for the door handle.
“Lucinda, don’t make me ask twice.” It wasn’t a request.
Lucy clenched her teeth, doing her best not to argue. Instead, she glared at the flowers glistening with raindrops and let her anger pour out. Her mum leaned forward and narrowed her eyes; it only took a few seconds for the rainwater to steam until the soil was bone dry and the flowers scorched.
“Sit and explain,” Mum ordered.
There was no way she was escaping now that she’d confirmed she didn’t have her element. Lucy sat, gripping the edge of the porch swing and trying to bite her tongue, but she couldn’t hold it in any longer. If she did, she was afraid they’d wake up tomorrow in a pile of ash.
“What do you think happened?” she barked. “Your hybrid love potion backfired, like I warned you and Grams it would!”
Mum studied the scorched flowers.
After a shaky breath, Lucy elaborated. “The spell switched my element with Benedict’s. He flooded the manor because he lost control of his temper after some guests caused trouble. He broke the pipe to make it look non-element-related.” She did feel much lighter, not having to hide the truth any longer, though she wouldn’t mention the wolves.
“How could this have happened?” Mum said, almost to herself. “I made sure there was no way anything could go wrong.”
“You might have, but Grams added the wrong ingredient. It changed the spell from a drawing spell,” Lucinda explained.
Mum paled. “I can fix this,” she said, guilt softening her tone.
“We already tried to reverse it by correcting the spell, but it didn’t work,” Lucy told her.
“It’ll probably fix itself after the binding.”
“You can’t know that. We’re going to try a curse-stripping potion.”
“I know.”
Lucy stared at her. “How?”
Mum moved the colourful blanket from her lap, revealing the spell Lucy had copied from the Hawthorne grimoire. Her mum held it in her hands like it was poisonous.
“Using such a potion from that book is taking things too far. The old magic is far more dangerous than what we harness now. It could strip you both of your elements,” she hissed.
“It’s a Hawthorne potion! We should be fine,” Lucy argued, reaching for the paper, but Mum snatched it out of reach.
“Why is it so urgent? Perhaps our spell is trying to tell you something!” she urged.
“That’s the problem,” Lucy snapped, letting her anger get the better of her. “How are Benedict and I to know if anything that happens between us is real and not because of our elements, because of a spell, a potion? This is why you don’t mess with love magic!”
“You care for him?” Mum asked, surprise quietening her voice. “Something has happened between you? A rumour is one thing, but I want to hear it from you.”
Lucy wished she could believe with absolute certainty that what had happened was because she cared for him and not because of some magical draw between their elements. The doubt made her heart ache, and the thought of his feelings being manipulated by her own family tainted the memory with guilt. What if the magic wears off and he no longer wants me? What if he despises me for bewitching him?
“Does it matter? There’s no way to know whether it’s genuine or not.” She wished she could go back to the night of the coven meeting and just let them vote then and there. Yet, as she fidgeted with the ring on her finger, it hurt to think they’d never have become so close.
“Lucy, I think you’re overthinking this. The spell was never intended to make you do anything; if anything, it was meant to show you. Perhaps there has always been something lingering between you, and this has given you the opportunity to walk a mile in each other’s shoes.”
“Easy for you to say. It’s not your life, your heart, your future.”
“I’m sorry. I thought we were helping,” Mum said, reaching for her.
Lucy didn’t want to hear it, and in her anger, she didn’t want to burn her. Her mum’s face fell as she pulled away.
“Let me help. I might be able to find a way that doesn’t involve a curse-stripping potion.”
“I don’t want your help.” Lucy had had enough for one day. “Benedict and I can figure this out ourselves. You’ve done enough – and please don’t tell Grams, I don’t want her meddling either.”
Mum’s lips firmed into a line. She got to her feet. “We only wanted the best for you,” she said. “And this puts you both in too much danger.” As Lucy watched in horror, the paper disintegrated in her hand.
“How could you take that from us? You’ve no right! It’s our life, our elements!” There was no way of getting hold of the original again now that Emerson had returned it to the Order. Lucy lifted her hands from the swing, exposing the scorch marks her anger had left behind.
“I’m still the High Priestess of this town, and you will respect my decision,” Mum declared, standing over her.
“Fine, you’re my High Priestess. But it was your decision to retire early. Your decision to allow the coven to bind your daughter to another, your decision to then cast a Frankenstein spell! Forgive me for cleaning up your mess!”
“I won’t be talked to this way,” Mum snapped, heading for the door.
“How can you expect and trust me to lead the coven in a matter of days when you don’t trust my judgement or listen to anything I have to say?” Lucy yelled after her.
“I’ve only ever done what I thought was best for you,” Mum said, the fight leaving her. Tears swelled in her eyes, magnified by her thick glasses.
“Maybe the best thing for me is for you to do nothing at all.”
Silence had never been so deafening.
Afraid of what else could be said in the heat of the moment, Lucy pushed past her mum and left her on the porch. Fighting with her couldn’t have happened at a worse time; tomorrow was the opening night dance for the festival. Now, not only was she angry at her mum, but feeling guilty about having to hide what Wilhelmina had done to Benedict. Is a moment, an hour, a day of peace too much to ask for?
It was only when she reached her room and slammed the door closed that she realised she couldn’t even remember the last time they had argued.