10. More Than Meets the Eye #2
Arthur had complied. Her laughter was like shop bells. It opened doors and freed animals from their cages. It released him from the tedious boredom of having to come to work with his father. It made him forget everything. He was having fun!
“I can fly! I’m a bird!” The soaring girl’s hair fanned out around her, floating as if she might take flight at any moment.
A kaleidoscope of blue butterflies gathered in the tree branches above, flapping to cheer for her as she swung high into the branches, toes pointed.
He wanted to bellow, and bray and kick up his own heels.
“Yes! Yes! And I’m a?—”
Reginald had snuck up soundlessly on his son and grabbed him by the collar, choking the words right out of him.
“Shadow of a serpent! What do you think you’re doing, lad? Get away from Maida Westabrook this instant!” Reginald Hart had then grabbed Arthur roughly and thrown him over his shoulder to carry him away. But it was too late. The incriminating crown of his developing antlers had already emerged.
Despite countless warnings and threats from his father, Arthur had done the one thing he was most forbidden to do. He had revealed himself to an Ordinary girl. And not just any Ordinary girl. He’d shown himself to Maida Westabrook, the daughter of his father’s boss.
He still remembered how hard he’d fought not to be sick when her swing plummeted and veered sideways as she stared over her shoulder at him. Her gray eyes were wide with shock and disbelief. For a moment, he’d thought she would fall.
“Don’t go!” she cried out, but he wasn’t sure if anyone else had heard. He hadn’t seen her lips move.
“Put me down.” Arthur had kicked and strained, trying to see if the girl was okay. But he was no match for a full grown stag shifter like his father. Reggie had placed a burlap sack over Arthur’s head.
It was the first, last, and only time Arthur had met Maida.
Amrita stirred the tea once again. “Imagine how different your life might have been if Buffalo had given up his daughter? You never would have been sent away to boarding school in Ireland.”
“What do you know about my father’s reasons for sending me away?”
“Everything, actually. Maida is my goddaughter,” Amrita confessed.
“I’m the one who suggested to Buffalo and your father that you’d probably be better off in a different environment.
I can’t take full credit for the idea, though.
The fairy who cared for Maida—you may recall Beryl Luna—put a bee in my ear about Ireland. She knew you had kin there.”
Amrita scrutinized him as she finally poured his tea. He felt little like drinking it now but he lifted the cup anyways, inhaling the pungent steam as he tried to assimilate all this new information.
“I’m also the one who muddled Maida’s memory of meeting you in case you were wondering about that.”
“Muddled?” Arthur was unfamiliar with the term as it applied to mental magic.
“It’s not quite the same thing as erasing a memory.
Muddling blurs the edges, making a memory seem more like a dream.
She was still so young. Young Ordinaries have such fantastic imaginations.
But…” She tapped her fingertips together, glancing up at the woodwork as she pondered.
“This means there’s a slight chance she might remember you. ”
Arthur set down his cup a bit carelessly, splattering the saucer.
By the stars! His emotions were getting away from him.
He’d thought he was here on a legal matter, but now they were discussing his personal history.
It made him extremely uncomfortable, but there was nothing he could do about it.
One didn’t walk out of the Director’s office.
There was nothing to be done except face the topic head on.
“Is this why I’m really here—for the chance to redeem myself for something I did when I was ten years old?”
Amrita blinked, a bit taken aback. “Of course not, Arthur. There’s absolutely nothing you have done that you need to redeem yourself for. You were just a child when you met Maida.”
Arthur swallowed and scowled. “It wasn’t as if I hadn’t been warned. Especially as a shifter. Everyone always expects us to slip.”
“You were a child,” Amrita reassured him. “It had nothing to do with that.” She waved a hand and the saucer was spotless again. “You don’t trust witches, do you?”
Arthur massaged his forehead. “Look, Director Berman, I’m a simple creature. I don’t like playing mind games. Please don’t muddle anything or use your mental magic to read my mind. I thought I was here on a business matter.”
“I don’t need to use mental magic to read your mind,” Amrita said.
She shook her head sadly. “Your distrust of me is worn quite plainly. You’re going to have to get past that if we’re going to work together successfully.
We both have vested interests in Primrose Court and we’re not as different as you might think. ”
Without comment, Amrita suddenly unpinned and shook out her raven-colored hair.
It fell to her shoulders, slowly separating into distinct sections that appeared to stiffen and shine.
Within moments, her hair had transformed into a diadem of black and cobalt feathers, shimmering with green, purple, and pink highlights.
Arthur sucked in a deep breath, startled by what his eyes were showing him.
“Many progressive members of the Society recognize that most of us comprise many parts. My own great-grandmother identified as a crow.” Amrita plucked a tiny black feather and handed it to him.
“Keep this for luck,” she said. But he knew it was more than that.
It was proof that she hadn’t merely tricked him with a glamor.
This magic was physical, the same as his own.
“The ongoing strife between magical communities is a pity. You know, I’m hardly the only witch with shifter blood. And I’d venture to guess the reverse is true as well. Have you looked into your own genealogy?” She met his eye. “You might find some surprises.”