Chapter 35 Putting Our Heads Together
THIRTY-FIVE
Putting Our Heads Together
Declan dropped me off at the gallery before returning to his workshop.
I was putting my fourth octopus of the day into the annealer when I saw movement on the deck.
Mom and Faith were sitting on a bench when Bracken joined them.
Okay. This probably wasn’t going to be a quick visit.
With a flick of my fingers, I opened the accordion wall to the deck, as well as the vents in the ceiling.
“I’ll be right out,” I called.
“Take your time, darling. We’re fine,” Mom said.
Faith was up and leaning over the railing. “Hello, Cecil.” When she laughed, I knew Cecil had said hello. “Wilbur!”
Faith was suddenly in the doorway. “Can I throw him his ball?”
“You bet,” I replied, powering down everything in the shop. “Grab the orange ball flipper thing by the back door of the studio so you don’t have to touch that gross ball.”
“Got it,” she said, tearing off.
I went to the bathroom, used a cold cloth on my face, then went to the fridge for a cold drink. “Does anyone want anything?” I called.
Faith came in. “Can I get a soda?”
I pointed to the fridge. “Help yourself.”
Mom and Bracken came in as well. “Let’s meet in here, darling,” she said. “It’s very windy today and Bracken reminded me that the people working on his apartment are shifters and will hear us.”
“Good point.” I went out onto the deck and flicked my fingers, calling up a wall of muffled sound, so we could talk with the doors open without our voices carrying.
Mom and Faith sat on the couch. Bracken took a chair from my worktable and brought it to the opposite side of the coffee table.
They’d left me my favorite reading chair.
I grabbed the container on the kitchen counter with the cookies left over from the batch I’d made for Uncle John and brought them over with some napkins.
“These are peanut butter and chocolate chip,” I told them as I set them down. I took one, kicked off my shoes, and curled up in my chair.
Faith and Bracken both took a cookie, but Mom declined.
“Bracken called me about Margaret this morning,” Mom said. “I went to see her.”
I gave a low, “Oooooooooo. Somebody’s in trouble.”
Faith grinned before taking another bite.
“Yes, well,” Mom began. “Let’s say the meeting didn’t go as she’d planned. She thought I was coming to tell her she could have the yellow house. Instead, I demanded to know why she was sharing Corey family information with Catherine Swan.”
Mom looked fierce as hell, and it was making me giddy. “Kick her ass, Mom.”
She rolled her eyes, but I saw the corner of her mouth lift. “Margaret seemed to be under the impression that since she’s my aunt, I should treat her with deference.”
I grimaced and sat back in my chair. Margaret totally had it coming, but I almost felt sorry for her. Talk down to Mom at your own peril.
“My sister always was an idiot,” Bracken said.
Mom stared up at the ceiling for a moment, looking both tired and annoyed. “I’m afraid she assumed if she kept ordering me around, I’d comply.”
Bracing for impact, I whispered, “What did you do?”
She stood and went to the kitchen area. “I’m making tea, if anyone wants some.”
“I will,” Bracken responded. “Thank you.”
She nodded and got to work, as she knew where everything was in my kitchen.
“I lost my temper. First, I cut off her voice. Then I forced her into a chair. Lastly, I made her tell me everything.” She turned and leaned back against the counter, her arms crossed over her chest. “She’s known me her whole life.
I’ve been one of the Three since I was a teenager. ”
She threw her hands up in the air. “What did she think? Did she honestly not understand that I had the power to make her tell me the truth?”
Bracken folded his hands in his lap. “I think Margaret and Catherine are similar in this. Both have a moderate amount of magic, but both seem to have more than their children or spouses and so have rewritten reality, believing themselves to be quite powerful. I’m sure at this point in life, she’s probably convinced herself that Mary was in charge solely because she was the oldest.” He glanced over at Mom.
“She may have decided it’s the same with you.
You were one of the Three because you’re Mary’s oldest.”
Sighing, Mom walked back with two teacups in her hands.
She gave one to Bracken, then sat with her own.
“I have no idea what she was thinking, but I disabused her of that belief.” She took a sip of tea.
“Apparently, Catherine befriended Margaret when they were children, trying to get information on the family from her. She didn’t say this, obviously, but I think she was so happy to be sought after that she told her far more than she should have. ”
She took another sip. “Oh, and Bracken, she was the one who gave Catherine the family grimoire. It wasn’t that Catherine took it when you weren’t looking.
Margaret left it in a planned location, then told your mother it was you.
When my mother and yours went to the Swans to retrieve it, Catherine said you’d given it to her.
In their minds, it was a done deal. Both Margaret and Catherine said it was you, so it was you. ”
He stared ahead a moment and took a drink of his tea. “I see. The interesting part of aging is learning what really happened in childhood and being forced to rewrite your own personal history.”
Mom nodded slowly, lost in thought. “Most of what she passed on was petty gossip, some minor spells. I think the fallout from giving Catherine the grimoire scared her. Gran was enraged and you were frozen out. There’s more fear than guilt in her and with Mom and Gran gone now, the fear is fading.”
“I’m pretty sure you fixed that today,” I said before finishing my drink.
Mom glanced over and winked. “Such a brilliant child I have.” She put her cup on the table and sat back. “Now, we need to put our heads together and strategize for this Wicches’ Council meeting on Friday.”
“Let’s start with basics,” I offered. “Do we know why Coreys stopped attending these meetings?” I almost asked Faith to pass me the blanket on the back of the couch, but then I remembered I hadn’t reversed the cooling spell that kept me from overheating when I worked with fire.
I did the spell on my clothes and felt my body warm up to room temperature. Much better.
“Honestly,” she began, “I’m not positive.
It happened when you were little. We were dealing with early visions and stalkers.
I was at my wits’ end trying to keep you safe while working and fulfilling my Council duties.
When Mom said we weren’t going to the next meeting, I was relieved.
When I realized months had gone by and I hadn’t heard about a meeting, I asked and she said they were meeting less often.
It was probably another year before I asked again.
Mom seemed annoyed, but it felt more like she was annoyed with the Wicches’ Council for not planning rather than me for asking. ”
She shrugged one shoulder. “After that, it fell off my radar of things I needed to be concerned with. When I brought it up again—perhaps five years later—she gave a vague nonanswer about the group dissolving and I let it go.”
Bracken finished his tea and placed his empty cup on the table.
“I think something happened amongst the leadership. A Corey has always been on the Panel of Five leading the Council. Mary was one of the five, and then she wasn’t.
I had left home years earlier. I only learned she’d lost her position because I was interviewing a young Burroughs wicche about a legend in their family.
We were chatting over tea and she asked what happened to my sister.
After a few questions on my part, I learned that Mary had lost her position on the panel and that Catherine Swan had taken it. ”
My mouth hung open. “Gran was voted off the island?”
The corner of Bracken’s lips went up. “I recognize that reference. And apparently, yes. Normally the Wicches’ Council empanels the strongest wicches from the oldest families.
My sister could be quite arrogant and rather difficult.
Perhaps the membership had had enough.” He thought a moment.
“It’s also possible Catherine did something to push Mary out. ”
“Dang,” Faith whispered. “This lady not only stole Gran’s husband and had his baby, she also tanked Gran’s reputation and humiliated her within the Council? That’s cold.”
I looked at Faith and nodded. I asked Mom, “Do you know any of the panel members who might be able to fill in the blanks for us?”
Mom shook her head. “As I said, it’s been more than twenty-five years since I’ve attended a meeting. Malcolm Howe was the man I reached out to in order for us to get an invitation. My grandfather was a Howe, so I used that as an in to speak with him.”
“Wait.” I sat forward. “Sam Quinn lives in San Francisco, and her bar is filled with wicches. Maybe she can get the gossip for us.”
“Darling, yes.” Mom’s eyes lit up. “Call her now.”
I pulled out my phone and tapped on her contact.
“Hi, this is Sam’s phone.” It was a man, but he didn’t have an English accent, so not her husband.
“Hello. Is Sam there?”
“Sure. It’ll be a minute, though. Can I tell her who’s calling?”
I was almost sure I recognized the voice. “This is her cousin Arwyn. Is this Owen Wong?”
“It is. Hi.”
“Perfect. This couldn’t have worked out better. I have a question about the Wicches’ Council.”
“Okay,” he said, sounding wary.
I explained everything we knew and asked if he knew anything more. While I’d been talking, the background noise lowered considerably.
“Dave, say hi to Arwyn.” Ah, he’d moved to the kitchen. Dave was part demon and part wicche. He’d helped us with our most recent sorcerer problem.
“No and get out,” came his gruff reply. Dave’s official job was cook at Sam’s Slaughtered Lamb Bookstore and Bar.
“My mom is on the panel of the Wicches’ Council,” Owen told us, ignoring Dave. “I’ve heard a lot of gossip over the years. Let me think what I’ve heard about Coreys…Actually, do you mind if I loop my mom into this call? She’ll know.”
I looked at Mom and she nodded. “Yes, please. That would be great.”
We heard some beeping, then a woman’s voice said, “Good afternoon, Samantha.”
“Hey, Mom. It’s me. I was messing with Sam’s phone when her cousin called. I have you on a three-way call with Arwyn Corey.”
“Oh,” she said.
“Arwyn, this is my mother, Lydia Wong. Mom, this is Arwyn Corey. She’s a Cassandra wicche.”
“Oh?” Her voice had shifted from caution to interest. She hadn’t liked being surprised, but now she at least seemed open to talking with us.