45. It’s Not the Plant’s Fault #2
“You’re not hiding any more cats down there, are you?” Lucretia peered down the stairs, suspiciously.
“It’s an archive full of ancient texts, charmed and cursed objects, and you’re worried about a house cat?” Maida questioned her aunt.
“Of course I’m not scared. I grew up in this house!
” Lucretia blustered, touching her hair and smoothing a hand over her skirt.
She placed a hand on the banister and started down the staircase.
“I can’t recall the last time I was down here with Minerva.
Still smells the same, though. Peppermint, mugwort, and brimstone. ” She inhaled deeply.
“After you.” Cormac waved Maida ahead.
The lights were not on in the Archives, but the space was well lit by the full moonlight. It hung perfectly framed by a high, round clerestory window, as if the window were crafted for this particular moment.
“Wow.” Maida stopped to marvel at the space.
Part cozy library, part underground lab.
It somehow managed to be both cozy and clinical at the same time.
A long leather sofa sat facing a giant aquarium on the wall beside the stairs.
To the left were rows and rows of glass-fronted bookcases with rare books stacked in storage cases.
Still more storage cases were made of metal, and there were several refrigerated cases as well.
Maida saw shelves full of test tubes and Petri dishes, plant pots and potting material, several saws, chisels, and drills, and at least five fire extinguishers spread throughout the stacks.
She glanced around for a safe place to set Rosie’s book.
Against the back wall, beneath the round window, was a single glass-fronted display case full of interesting looking items. Long copper-topped work tables sat to either side of the case. Maida set the book down on one of them.
“I’ll just check the card catalog for your family’s grimoire.” Lucretia sat down on a wheeled stool by the tables, then rolled herself towards the tall filing chest in the corner. “What was the name again?”
Maida thought she saw a flash of movement in the case, but when she looked again, it was gone.
“Vorador,” said Cormac. He stopped to admire something floating in a jar.
“No. Not your name,” Lucretia tittered. “Obviously I know that. I mean your grandmother’s name. We’re looking for the maternal line.”
“Of course.” Cormac looked up from the jar and smiled. He smacked his forehead. “What was I thinking? Try Delombre.”
“Delombre, Delombre…Is that French?” Lucretia asked as she thumbed through the cards. “I’m not seeing any entries. Do you know when your people came over? New Orleans or?—”
“Oh shut up already, you boring old mire maven,” Cormac barked.
Out of the corner of her eye, Maida saw a flash of light. Not just one flash, but several blinding lights danced across her field of vision.
“Mmmph! Mnughff!” Lucretia grunted.
Maida swiveled back to face Cormac. He was still standing on the bottom step. Only now he was grinning. Not the charismatic grin she was used to. His smile had somehow slipped, and twisted. It was ominous and off.
“What’s going on?” Maida asked.
Cormac reached in his pocket and pulled out a hairy, malodorous black bloom, fashioned into a corsage.
Stapelia grandiflora.
“Did you like my housewarming gift? I made sure to line the pot with some tracking stones when I left it on your doorstep in California, but you didn’t take it with you.
Thank goodness Addy got your friend to bring it back for you.
The blooms have a strong sedative effect on house spirits.
Knocks them right out. All the better for exploring the Archives uninterrupted.
We can’t have this place disappearing again, can we?
” Cormac strode across the room and slipped the blossom on her wrist. “The flower looks lovely on you, Maida. You should wear it well.”
It’s not the plants fault it smells like that.
Compassion, she found, was a very effective way to calm her gag reflex.
A cloud of slithering purple vines surrounded Cormac.
They sprang from his pockets and slipped from beneath his sleeves, tangling and untangling as they floated silently around him.
She noticed he was holding an odd, ball shaped, mirrored wand aloft.
He waved it like a conductor, conducting a symphony, bringing the swirling mass to a crescendo and then flinging it at Lucretia.
“She really talks too much and I can only go along with her antiquated ideas for so long. Pure bloods this, sacred traditions that, you know what I mean? You must. You’ve always been an outcast too, right?”
Maida watched with horror as the vines bound her aunt more tightly to her chair. They moved and behaved exactly like the branches of the willow tree.
“One hundred percent organic, made from seaweed and upcycled plant matter,” Cormac bragged, watching the way she was looking at the deadly plants.
“As long as they’re powered on, they’ll do whatever I tell them to do, and when I’m done with them, I can put them in the green waste bin.
Think of how this will revolutionize the security industry! ”
He tipped his wand towards the stairs, sending another squadron of the snake-like plants to patrol the perimeter of the Archives.
“What are you doing, Cormac?” Maida tried to speak calmly and evenly as she attempted to calculate her escape route.
She didn’t think she could outrun him. And she didn’t like the look of those vines blocking the stairs.
She could still recall what they felt like wrapped around her neck in her father’s garden.
“The old ways are over. I’ve democratized magic and made it available to everyone.” Cormac walked over to Lucretia and slipped her wand out of her pocket and into his. “Thank you for supporting the cause.” He tipped his head to her.
“The only thing is, I constantly need to harvest more magical items to grow my brand.” Cormac sighed.
“It’s tedious, and I don’t really think it’s the best use of my time.
” He used his wand to blast open the case.
“So rather than scouring flea markets for magical items piecemeal, I thought I’d come shop at a superstore. ”
Cormac pulled a small pouch out of his pocket and with another wave of his wand he transformed it into a full-sized suitcase, and began tossing items in.
“Cormac, stop. Please!” Maida cried out. “Aren’t you worried about the effect Nocturnaturals is having on the magical community?”
“Seriously, Maida?” He blasted open another locked case. “When has the magical community ever been worried about the Ordinary community? You know exactly what I mean, don’t you? How many times do you think the Director wiped your memory?”
He turned his head and caught her eye. Maida refused to look away.
Even when Lucretia yelped and strained against her leafy prison.
Even when a pair of vines floated around her, brushing at her knees and fingertips like a curious dog that wished to sniff her.
Maida stood straight, kept her gaze level, her breathing even.
“You really think magic solves everyone’s problems?” she asked.
“I think having access to magic makes it a lot easier for everyone to solve their own problems.” Cormac’s answer was immediate. “You can’t argue with that, can you, Maida?”