Chapter 17
I put my fork down and took another clarifying sip of coffee.
“I agree with Miles,” Olive chimed in.
No surprise there. Her opinion of me seemed to be one of barely concealed impatience. She found me tiresome and useless and had never made any secret of it.
“But I was bonding with the grimoire. I could feel it and I heard the same voices in my head that spoke to me in my dreams when it first arrived. It can’t be a coincidence that suddenly there was an outraged Viking on my porch,” I said. “Where else could he have come from?”
Olive rolled her eyes. “You seem to think you’re the only necromancer in the area.”
I stilled with my fork halfway to my mouth. I glanced at Jasper. He had told me there were others, but I decided to play dumb just to see what Olive and Miles said. “I’m not?”
I felt Jasper watching me, but I ignored him.
“I can think of at least two in the area and five if you include all of New England.” Olive tossed her long black hair over her shoulder. On anyone else, it would have been a flirtatious gesture, but from her it was dismissive.
“Why didn’t you tell me this before?” I asked.
“You seemed to be struggling to accept your family’s affinity for necromancy, so we wanted to give you time to process,” Miles said. I noticed he kept giving Agatha a wary glance and I suspected she would read him the riot act for not telling me everything from the get-go.
“All right, assuming there is another necromancer in the area and they raised the Viking, why did they send him to my house and why do they want the book?” I asked, not mentioning that Jasper and I had already discussed the possibilities. I wanted to hear it from them.
Jasper took the seat at the table beside me and leaned forward, resting his elbow on the dark wood and propping his chin in his hand. He looked as tired as I felt. “What she said.”
Olive and Miles exchanged a glance. I wondered if they could read each other’s minds. It wouldn’t have surprised me in the least, to be honest.
Agatha let out an impatient sigh. “Enough with the eyeball communication, you two. Zoe deserves an answer, an honest one.”
“Well, we can’t be sure,” Miles hedged. “It’s all speculation at this point, but the signs do point to Zoe’s grimoire being deemed very powerful, and someone is clearly determined to acquire it.”
“But if I’m the only one who can use it, why would they want it?” I asked.
Miles looked conflicted about answering; Olive did not. She stared at me with her opaque black eyes and said, “If you were under the control of another witch or mage, then they could order you to use the grimoire for their benefit.”
Agatha let out a hiss and I felt a chill creep into the marrow of my bones. It was no better hearing it the second time around. To be under the control of another, to do their bidding, no matter what it was—no, just no.
“Tariq is investigating the other known necromancers in the area to find out if any of them are involved or know who is.”
“What do we do in the meantime?” Agatha asked. “Zoe is clearly a target for whoever wants the grimoire…and her.”
Having her say it so plainly was a bit unsettling. Okay, more than a bit. As one, we all turned to Miles. He looked at me and said, “I believe the only way forward is to understand the past. We need to find out what happened to your mother and grandmother, Zoe.”
I sighed. I knew he was right, and I wanted to know, I really did. But I also dreaded the many complicated feelings this was going to stir up for me. Frankly, if I had to choose between unresolved family issues and an undead Viking, I’d choose the Viking every time.
I met Miles’s sympathetic gaze and asked, “Where do we begin?”
· · ·
We started with a meeting in the main room of the BODO. Tariq had come back from his necromancer reconnaissance, reporting that no one had sicced an undead Norseman on me.
“How do you know they were telling the truth?” I asked.
“I have a tea that encourages honest communication,” Tariq said. “Chamomile for clarity, rosemary for truth, and mint for purity of mind among other things. I also add a bit of lemon to boost the other ingredients.”
“It’s a truth serum?” I asked.
“More like a truth enhancer.” He smiled mischievously and I returned it.
“Excellent. On to phase two, then,” Miles announced.
“Which would be what?” I asked.
“As I understand it, your mother was in the Mystwood Manor care facility for the last month of her life, yes?” Miles’s voice was gentle and full of empathy.
“Apparently.” I nodded. “I…we…” I gestured to Agatha and then myself. “We didn’t know she was in residence there until after she passed away.”
“Then we’re going to Mystwood to see what we can find out,” Olive said. “Jasper, this is your area of expertise, so you’ll be in charge of coordinating our visit.”
“Our?” Jasper lifted his head.
“Yes, you, me, Eloise, and Zoe,” Olive clarified.
“Four of us?” He frowned. “Isn’t that a bit overkill?”
Olive stared at him with a look that would have sent me hiding under the table. Jasper just smiled at her until she rolled her eyes.
“You’re going with Eloise to tour the facility under the guise of having her admitted,” Olive said, “while Zoe and I interview the director about her mother’s death. I feel like something isn’t quite right.”
“What are you saying, Olive?” Agatha had come into New York with me and sat beside me at the meeting, lending me her support, as she knew family stuff was my vulnerable spot.
“Juliet Ziakas was middle-aged and living in a well-appointed rehabilitation facility. It feels a tad convenient that she died of a sudden cardiac arrest, doesn’t it?” Olive asked.
I glanced at Agatha. She looked as gutted as I felt.
It had never occurred to either of us to question my mother’s death.
Mom had been gone for decades with only sporadic visits for an afternoon here or there.
She’d maintained no contact with Agatha or me in between these abrupt appearances, which had ended five years ago.
With no indication that I’d ever see her again, I had started to assume she was dead, because it hurt less than thinking she had abandoned me once and for all.
“Don’t beat yourself up, Zoe,” Agatha said. “There was no way for us to know that your mother had returned or that she needed care.”
“Hmm,” I hummed noncommittally. The thing was, I felt as if I should have known.
I was her only child, her last living relative.
I should have known she was back and about the grimoire, and I should have learned more about our Donadieu family history—all of it.
To be left in ignorance hurt almost as much as the fact that she had dumped me off at private school and disappeared as if I were just some unwanted baggage.
The ache in my chest was fierce and it was hard to breathe.
I felt Jasper’s pale gaze watching me and I forced my expression to go flat, to hide the hurt, to put on the mask I had worn since my mother had left me and my things at the front door of the school, given me a quick hug, made me vow I’d never do magic, and driven off with an expression of grim determination.
I shook my head and cleared my throat. Maybe after all this time, I’d finally get some answers.
I glanced at Olive and asked, “When do we leave?”
· · ·
We arrived at Mystwood Manor early the next morning.
The facility served patients who were receiving postsurgical care or recovering from a variety of ailments, such as heart attack and stroke.
When Agatha and I had inquired as to why my mother had been admitted, we were told she had been admitted by a doctor in a Boston emergency room for severe weight loss.
The austere building sat on top of a hill in the suburbs of Boston.
I had hoped it would be an overcast and dreary day, matching my mood, but the cheerful sun and bright blue skies mocked me as I strode from the rented SUV Olive had picked up outside the train station toward the large redbrick edifice, which perched on the hill like a castle surveying its kingdom.
Olive wore black sunglasses and a black trench coat over another completely black outfit. I wondered briefly what her closet looked like. I suspected it was like a small black hole. She could reach in and pull out anything, knowing it would match. Maybe she was onto something there.
Eloise followed behind her. She was wearing her camel coat and her ash-blond bob was styled meticulously to cover her missing ears.
Tariq had procured a pair of stylish leather gloves for her that filled out her missing finger.
I wondered what the gloves were stuffed with, but I didn’t ask, as I felt it would be rude.
Jasper strode beside me. I felt his gaze on the side of my face and I knew if I looked at him, I’d see an expression of sympathy. I didn’t want that. It would do me no good to acknowledge all the feelings that were rocketing through me at being here.
“I have a question for you, Zoe,” Jasper said.
I sighed. I didn’t want to answer any questions about my mother, my relationship with my mother, or how she’d ended up in this facility without my or Agatha’s knowledge. It was all just so sad. It hurt to think about, never mind discuss, and yet…
“Go ahead.” I braced myself.
He slowed his pace, dropping back from Olive and Eloise. I thought it was sensitive of him not to grill me in front of the others.
“What do I do if Eloise loses a body part—say, a significant part—whilst on the tour?”
Caught off guard, I snapped my head in his direction. There was a mischievous glint in his eye and I realized he was trying to distract me from what he knew had to be a difficult task.
I pursed my lips to keep from smiling and nodded, letting him know I knew what he was doing and that I appreciated it. I also decided to play along, as it would keep me from overthinking what was to come.
“Well, I suppose it depends on how significant,” I replied. “Are we talking a leg or an arm?”