Chapter Twenty-Four #2
Beatrice settles onto a stool just inside the stockroom door, while Bishop stays in the outer area, remaining in sight.
“Everyone knows about the Levines, luv,” she says.
“Except me.”
She leans to pat my arm as I gather ingredients.
“I mean that within the spell-casting community of London, most knew where your mother and aunt came from. Lenora hated that. They’d hoped that using the name Carter would help, and it did, but only among those on the fringes.
I told Lenora it was good that the most powerful supernaturals knew who she was.
It was added protection. Lenora and your mother might have been estranged from the cabal, but they were still Beryl Levine’s daughters.
Beryl would avenge any wrong to them, as you’ve seen. ”
“Why did they leave the cabal?”
She shrugs. “The usual reason. Children grow up and decide they don’t like the family business.
Or they don’t agree with the family philosophy.
Your mother and your aunt Flora left when your mother turned eighteen.
” A fond smile. “Lenora snuck along. She was furious at being left behind. Your great-aunt and mother planned to return for her later. She was only twelve, and they thought her too young to make that choice.”
“She made it anyway.”
“Your aunt was always more of a Levine. Your mother was fearsome when she wanted to be, but she didn’t particularly want to be fearsome. Lenora did. Fearsome and feared.”
“Yet she never went back to the cabal. To the power they had.”
“That path was always open to her, but she didn’t want it, and once you entered Lenora’s life, the die was cast. She never would have taken you back to Beryl. Mixing supernatural blood usually increases power, particularly if the types are complementary.”
“If the powers don’t act against one another.”
“Yes. Witch and werewolf are an excellent combination. Beryl would have done … Well, she’d have done what she seems to be doing. Moved heaven and earth to get you back.”
“For my powers,” I say as I take a jar from the shelf.
“That’s no disrespect. You stood up to her. Escaped her. It’s a show of personal power that she’ll appreciate.”
“What can you tell me about the Levine Cabal?”
She tells me what she knows. We got more from the werewolf Lynch, though what Beatrice does know supports his account, and that helps.
As she talks, I gather the rest of the ingredients I need.
“So this task Hamish Campbell set your husband on…” she begins.
“Hmm?”
“You said Hamish wished your husband to do a task.” She glances at Bishop, as if to be clear she isn’t talking behind his back, but he only stands guard, expressionless.
“Oh, that.” I wave a hand. “A political matter. He wants Bishop to remove a thorn in his side.”
“What did you tell him?”
“That we’d do it, of course.”
Her lips curve in a slow smile. “But will you?”
“We don’t have a choice, sadly.”
“And what is this troublesome thorn? I might be able to help. I have a vast network of contacts. That’s how I recognized your husband’s name.”
“Then perhaps you could help,” I say, glancing at Bishop as if we hadn’t already discussed this.
I talk to her, and she tells me what she can.
When we leave the storage room, Bishop takes out his billfold to pay for my ingredients, but Beatrice waves it away. “A wedding gift.”
“Thank you,” he says, inclining his head.
“And I can do one better.” She bends and opens a safe. “I owed your aunt some money, Cordelia. She funded my trip here, and I have intended to pay her back when she came to visit, but that…” She glances away. “Well, that won’t happen.”
I reach for her hand and squeeze it. Then she removes a money box and counts out bills.
“Oh!” I say as I see how many she’s giving me—it’s as much as Hamish gave Bishop for this entire expedition.
“Your aunt was very generous to her friends,” she says.
“She was, and I very much appreciate this,” I say as I take the bills. I glance at Bishop. “My husband is also generous, but if we witches were taught one thing…”
She smiles up at me. “It is to have our own money. Always.” She glances nervously at Bishop and whispers to me, “You should also have your aunt’s estate.”
“She will,” Bishop says, since he can easily hear her. “I agree that women need their own money, no matter how happy a marriage. Cordelia will claim what’s hers as soon as she can.”
“Which doesn’t mean waiting for Lenora to be declared dead.” I give a wry smile. “We supernaturals always plan for contingencies, in case we suddenly vanish. Once I can return safely to London, Lenora’s estate will be mine.”
“But what’s happening with it until you return? I could go secure your assets, luv.”
“Alfred is handling that.”
“Alfred Blackwood?” She makes a face. “I know they’ve been lovers for years, but he is a sorcerer. Are you sure you can trust him?”
“I can,” I say firmly. “Had he not been trustworthy, Lenora would never have been with him.”
Beatrice goes quiet and then says, “Your aunt’s grimoire … I presume that will be yours?”
“It will. Alfred will have secured mine and Lenora’s, along with my mother’s.”
“I know you’ll want Lenora’s. It has the stronger magic. But your mother’s was a wondrous tome as well. I suppose you’d already copied from it whatever you wanted for yourself?”
“I had.”
“Is there any chance I might purchase your mother’s? I would pay dearly for it, as well as for any alchemical notes of your aunt or mother.” She opens the safe again. “I would even pay in advance, and you could send me the grimoire and notes.”
I lay a hand on hers. “No need for that. I will happily send them. However … I don’t suppose you still have Edith Winterbourne’s grimoire? I know she promised it to you on her death.”
“She did, and I have it right here.” She pats the money box with a small stack of books beneath it.
“Would you consider letting me take that in return for sending my mother’s grimoire and the notes? I hate to ask, but I’m without my own grimoire until I can return to London, and I feel like a student who has lost all her books. I know I should be studying, but I have nothing to study from.”
She squeezes my hand. “You are so much like your aunt. I would say you have more important things to deal with right now, but I understand that spell practice can be a comfort as well.”
“It really can.”
She pulls a volume from the stack. “Take it.”
“I can return it when I send my mother’s.”
“I’ve copied what I wanted from it, and I was only trying to decide what to do with the grimoire itself. Selling it seemed wrong when Edith so kindly gifted it to me. But she’d be delighted for you to have it. She was very fond of you.”
“I remember her fondly as well. Thank you.”
I take the book, and Beatrice waves at the stockroom. “If there is anything you need for practice…”
I bite my lower lip. “I might take a few of the less expensive ingredients. And a mortar and pestle if you have it. I’ll pay, of course.”
“I will,” Bishop says. “It’s my fault you don’t have what you need.”
“Now, now, none of that,” Beatrice says. “Take what you need, luv.”