Friends Forever
Feral agrees to help the injured woman make her way downstairs.
“I’ll get her some assistance. Actually, I’ll refer her to Never’s vampsion.”
I agree. The Were hosts plenty of self-defense courses similar to what Starla and I went through a few months ago. No doubt my own fighting skills would be better if we’d stayed longer.
Overall, a good plan. Even if I fear the Were may come on a bit strong.
We part ways as I head down the correct hallway for the office.
I’m not even sure what to do. We have a lot of answers now. Does that mean we can confront the councilman, or at least be more direct in our attempts to get clarification?
My best guess is that Claude’s family has been aligned with Councilman Taylor’s, if not now then in the past. Maybe there was an alliance at some point, and that’s why both families use the crest.
I stand down the hall from the office, straining to hear anything.
I have half-decided to pound on the door, claiming I was directed to the office by a member of staff, when the door creaks as the handle is depressed. I hear Starla’s voice as a crack appears in the door, breaking the seal and the magic.
“Thank you for your time, Father. I will give deep consideration to everything you said.”
“See that you do.”
Both of their voices are formal.
I run. The idea of coming face to face with the councilman makes the decision for me, when I realize that I’m not ready to face him. I wouldn’t be able to act. I’m liable to sing at him, with my throat burning the way it is.
Sprinting down the halls, I make my way back to the one that houses our rooms, and then I freeze in front of that door as well. How can I stay here?
I clench my hands, nails digging into my palms.
“Leena?”
Spinning, I see Starla.
The witch’s pallor is grey. At some point after the ball, she has pulled her hair back into a ponytail. The magic covering her tattoos has faded, and they decorate her arms, which are twisted together in front of her.
She breaks my gaze and stares at the ground.
I’ve always loved how we can figure each other out without needing words. The sister I never had. The person I’ve trusted the longest in this world, who has always had my back.
Starla is trembling. Her lip is quivering, and her eyes are watering.
She knows. I have no idea how, but her expression reflects the same devastation I feel inside.
I reach out and pull her into an embrace. We can’t speak yet, but I want her to know that no matter what was said, it changes nothing about how I see her.
Starla stills after a moment, then wraps her arms around me, hugging me back.
She pulls away and gives a sharp nod. She takes my hand, tugging on it.
The two of us make our way back along the hall, down the stairs.
When we hit the main entrance hall, I can see that while the crowd has significantly lessened, there are still several curious lookers-on lingering.
Starla tugs me again and takes us into a library. Not a welcoming one with gorgeous windows that would let the sun stream in. The drapes are pulled shut, the fire out for the moment. The room, more than any other in the manor, gives the chilly feel of winter.
And the books. All leather-bound. All clearly expensive. And all uniform in height and style. The only differentiation is in the color. Some a deep green, some a deep red, and some brown or black. But none vibrant or bright.
“Can we talk in here?”
She puts a finger to her face, shaking her head and walking us with purpose toward one particular wall.
I can’t see any difference to it, other than it’s on one side of the unused fireplace.
She hesitates for just a moment as we reach the bookcase; she points a finger into the air and moves it as if she’s counting the books in the row.
She repeats the action twice, like she’s checking herself.
I’m beginning to think she’ll pull a book out, like they do in old cartoons, to activate a trap door. Instead, she reaches underneath one of the books, pressing onto the wooden shelf. I don’t even see a seam, but something does click.
The book shelf slides open.
Starla ushers me inside. The pathway is dark and narrow, but we’re in it a blessedly short amount of time. We’re let out on a side wall of the manor, into the portion of the garden where I saw Never and Danger.
Starla pulls us into the hedges, going several rows deep until we hit a seating area that’s densely covered.
Before I can say anything she waves her hands, light glowing from her palms.
“There. That should muffle us from anyone around,” she says evenly. But I don’t miss the way her knees nearly buckle as she sits on the stone bench.
“You shouldn’t keep doing that. You’ll need to charge up your magic again. Soon,” I tell her.
She shakes her head. “No. I mean, I will. You know how tricky spells are for me, but it’s not that.
As soon as the deal with my father was made I started practicing sneaky spells like this, anticipating they might come in handy.
Plus, now that Imogen can identify other supernatural species for us, I needed to find a new specialty.
Not that being made redundant is what bugs me.
It’s … everything else. Leena, how can you look so calm?
The look you gave me outside our rooms. I know you have to know. At least some of it?”
I sigh.
She’s ready me just as well as I read her.
“I know, or at least I think I know, that it’s your family who’s connected to my curse. I also know that your father has the same crest above his office door that Ivyrn Works used, and the same one Claude wears.”
“What!” she starts to stand, puts a hand to her head, seems to think better of it, and lowers herself once more.
“I just found out about the curse, but I didn’t even notice the crest. I wasn’t looking at the top of his doorframe.
I was too busy keeping my eye on my father and keeping up my own act. ”
“And it worked?”
She scoffs.
“Enough. He’s suspicious by nature, but he was flustered tonight, and he was more than ready to believe—or at least pretend to believe—my desire to align myself with a ‘good’ family. A powerful man who could protect me. One of the duds he’s foisted on me.”
“Who did you choose?” I ask.
She twists her face, sticking out her tongue before answering.
“Piers. You’ll remember him from our breakfast. Tall and slender, hooked nose, which he loves to look down on people from. Incredibly well-connected. Disgustingly rich. Properties in a dozen different countries. And, most importantly to my dad, a very powerful warlock. It was a no-brainer.”
“You’re sure the councilman believed you?”
“I put on the water works. I thought it would be harder, but I just let all my frustration over being stuck and feeling trapped here boil over into angry tears that he mistook for fear. Told him I was wising up to needing protection and threw in a few, short snippets of what I’d been through in Carolina Beach.
I know he’s already gotten the bullet points from Grammy, but I think the reminder helped.
Made it seem more likely that I was terrified of ending up in danger again. ”
Starla rolls her eyes, even though I for one find that to be a very valid concern.
My intrusive thoughts, shockingly silent up to now with all the wild information I’ve learned this evening, choose this moment to surface.
She could be. What if Piers hears about her fake intentions and tries to take her? What if he’s angry at her deceit and responds like Seymour and his four wives?
“Oh shut up!”
“Not me, right?” she asks.
I sigh.
“No, not you. Never you. You’re my best friend.”
She smiles but sniffles again, her eyes watering.
“Even though my great-great-grandmother cursed yours? Cursed you! It’s our fault your magic has been slowly draining you. Our fault you could get hurt, or that others could get hurt, because of it. I learned that lovely tale in my father’s study as well. What a night.”
Neither grandmother was even remotely worth meeting, as far as I’m concerned. Two terrible people.
“How did you find out?” she asks.
I’d like to ask the same. Engagements to curses is quite the jump to have made in her conversation with the councilman, but I don’t mind going first. I give a quick recap of the scene in the hallway with Seymour and the Ender.
Starla’s blue eyes spark.
“Seymour is someone I’m familiar with. The accountant was constantly slinking around after my father during my visits. I had thought he was becoming too interested in me, the last time I was here before I officially joined Grammy’s coven. My father firmly put distance between Seymour and me.”
“You think he may have known what kind of man his accountant was?”
She puts her head in her hands.
“It wouldn’t surprise me. And the crest? Maybe it’s some sort of secret network. Either way, all signs point to Azriel Taylor being involved with the people who almost killed us! Multiple times! My father is the worst.”
She stands, stomping the ground.
“I’d like to dig that old witch ancestor of mine up and bury her again. This is too much. It’s more messed up than traffic on the first day of tourist season.”
“A truly scathing insult,” I say.
She sits back down, holding her head in a hand once more.
“I don’t know, Leena. I’m always so sure of myself, but this? I don’t know how to square with this. It’s like I don’t know myself anymore.”
I sit, taking her hands in mine.
“Yes, you do. You’re Starla. The fiercest and best witch I know, because of who you are, not because of some flashy magic. You’re independent and loving and fun. You’re a better person than anyone on your family tree.”
“Except perhaps Grammy,” she muses, giving a small smile.
“Perhaps. Maybe it’s a tie. But don’t tell Grammy Pearl I said that. She’d likely want top spot. After all, she was the one who sent us here and orchestrated this whole thing.”
Starla frowns again.
“Do you think she knew? About my dad’s side of the family, or his involvement in everything, or any of the rest of it?”
This time I really do give it some deep, silent thought for a few minutes.
“In the end, I’m not sure it matters. If she didn’t tell us directly, then we were meant to find out this way.
I trust Grammy Pearl. She knows more about the future than you or I will ever hope to learn.
It’s possible that telling us, regardless of how many details she did or didn’t know, would have altered the outcome. ”
Starla sighs.
“True. I can’t be mad at her. But I wish the magic would have allowed her to give us more of a heads-up.”
“We both know the truth now. Our families have a connection, albeit a negative one. But you and I can make something different. We already have.”
Starla shakes her head.
“There’s more. It’s not just that we know my family cursed yours. It’s that one of us has to be the one to break it.”
“I … what?”
“Let me paint you a picture.”
Starla puts her hands on her knees, then pushes herself to her feet.