Chapter 11

Heed the flower, bush, and tree by the Lady blessed you"ll be

– The Wiccan Rede

Iwas greeted by the strong scent of basil and freshly picked tomato as I entered the kitchen. From the pots on the stove and the jars set ready on the benchtops, the aunts were preparing to cook and bottle tomato sauce.

Nova, Fennel, and Callista had already taken their places at the table and Fennel was serving pancakes and bacon on the pretty mismatched vintage plates. The syrup on my pancake seemed to form a laughing skull as I poured it. I stared at it, before stabbing it with my fork and dissecting it with my knife.

"How was the party?" Nova asked.

"It was fine," I replied reluctantly. Just discussing the party renewed the sense of embarrassment, shame, and guilt. "Nothing much happened."

"Oh, come on," Nova rolled her eyes. "I have heard about what goes on at the Pinegrove parties."

"What goes on at the Pinegrove parties?" Fennel asked.

"What does go on at Pinegrove parties, Nova?" Callista arched an eyebrow.

"It's not a big deal," I said through my teeth. "There was music and dancing, and people were… hooking up," I hesitated over the description.

"Is that what the young people are calling it nowadays?" Fennel hid her smile behind her fingertips.

"It's basically an orgy," Nova's lips twisted.

"And how is it that you know so much about what goes on at Pinegrove?" Callista asked her, and there was a tone in her voice that caused all action around the table to be still. Fennel and I looked between Callista and Nova.

Nova realized she'd given away too much, and her eyes dropped to her plate. "People talk," she said.

"And yet, you didn't think to share this knowledge with your sister, who is attending Pinegrove?" Callista said tightly. "To share this knowledge with Fennel and myself?"

"Its… I…" Nova stammered and then burst into tears. "You wouldn't understand," she said angrily shoving to her feet. "You just… You don't understand." She fled the room, the sounds of her flight echoing overloud due to the spell that the aunts had on her.

"Just what is going on with Nova?" I asked them as the front door slammed shut.

"Time will tell," Callista replied grimly, her eyes on the door. "Won't you be late for work, dear?"

"Oh shit!" I gulped down my juice and hurried to the door, grabbing my handbag as I went.

"Nyx," Callista's call stalled me halfway out the door, so I caught at the frame, and looked back over my shoulder at her. "Last night… Did nothing untoward happen?"

I blew out a breath. "It's like Nova said. There was a party, lights, music, and alcohol. I didn't drink. When people started having sex… I left. It was…" I shook my head. "It was weird and awkward and ugly."

"And your sister should have warned you," Callista said quietly. "Or us. I am sorry for that, Nyx."

"It's fine, Aunt Callista," I told her. "I was fine, and it's fine. I'd better run, or I'll be late."

The Corniche wasn't parked in the garage, and I paused for a moment on my bike looking at the lonely Ford within the garage and measuring the trouble that was about to befall my sister when Callista discovered the theft, considering Nova officially didn't have her license to drive nor permission to take the much-valued car out. However, Callista was right, I was going to be late, so I pushed off and pedalled to the main street.

The wind whipped back my hair as I coasted down the hill. Unlike the unfortunate little girl, I reserved time to brake before reaching level ground and the intersecting road. I checked both ways before crossing. As I cycled through town, I saw a family on a stroll, the mother's attention on the pram that she pushed, but the father's eyes tracking my passage. Kristine's married lover.

Our eyes met for a brief moment as I passed. We both knew that I held a secret that could destroy his family. It was not something that empowered me, but rather put me in danger. I was, after all, a Vossen and our family history was clear how this sort of thing would play out. All I could do was pretend that I knew nothing and hope that nothing happened to direct his anger to me.

As I turned a corner, my bike startled a flock of ravens, the birds taking flight in a flurry of black feathers. I pulled to a stop whilst they flocked across the road, their wings stirring my hair. One foot braced on the tarmac; I watched them spiral in the sky.

Movement caught my eye and a filmy ghost passed beside me. Intrigued, I followed her with my eyes as she struggled to carry a lumpy sack across the road. In the wake of her passage, more ghosts appeared. They were mostly female and dressed in the style of the colonists, and I wondered if I had happened upon a significant anniversary of an event as I saw ghosts frequently, but I had never seen these ones.

As they moved, I caught glimpses of their surroundings, a time when the town of Mortensby did not exist as anything more than cleared fields and a partially erected church, before which the women queued. Beyond them, I could see a man at a table, recording their names into a ledger.

As the church in their time hadn't been built, nor the many houses that existed now, the old colony was visible in the distance between the trees by the smoke rising from chimneys.

This was the first load of "brides" I realized.

The original colonists had been convicts and a few recklessly brave pioneers, and they had been in the majority male. Having established the colony, poor women had been lured over with the promise of a better life in the new country and a free fare on the ship. Once they had arrived, they had been auctioned off to the colonists who sought a wife.

I couldn't stay and watch, I reminded myself, as fascinating as it was. I was running late to work already, and it would look odd for me to stay on the road watching something that no one else could see, so I pushed off and continued to the back of the coffee shop.

I was berated by the manager as I entered and given the job of dishwashing – a task that most found unpleasant, however, as it kept me in the back room for the first hour of my shift, I didn't mind at all. Eventually, I was called to the front to cover a break, and as I manned the cash register, I saw a group of young women enter, and amongst them, Nova.

As usual, she didn't acknowledge me. I watched her as I poured coffee. She was on the edge of the group and chewed on her nails as she watched the door as if expecting someone to arrive.

I glanced down at the coffee I was preparing and frowned as I saw that as I poured the milk foam formed a death's head rather than the cloverleaf that I was supposed to produce. I hit the bottom of the cup onto the counter, dispersing the picture – better no picture then handing a customer a coffee with a skull in the foam. I put a lid on and slid it across to the customer.

To my surprise he grabbed my wrist, pinning it to the benchtop, his fingers digging painfully into my flesh, and I gasped up at him in shock.

"I know you." He growled down at me.

"I… don't think so," I stammered out tugging against his grip. He held my hand pinned and pushed down upon it so that my bones ground painfully into the uncompromising surface.

"Yeah. You're one of them." He leaned across the counter, holding me tight. I glanced around desperately, wondering if anyone else had seen what he was doing and would intervene. "I know you are one of those Vossen witches," he breathed into my ear, his breath hot and moist against my skin. "And I know that your aunts are hiding my wife and daughter. Tell those bitches that she'd better turn up home, or they'll be sorry."

He held me there as he leaned back, meeting my eyes, enjoying my pain and fear like the bully he was. "Do you understand me?" He asked.

"Y… Yes," I hated how my voice trembled.

"Good," he released me and leaned back. "Thank you," he saluted me with the coffee cup as he turned. I watched him go to the door, holding it open for a couple entering and accepting their thanks graciously as if he had not just terrorized me.

"I need to talk to him!" Nova's cry and the slam of her palm onto the tabletop silenced the coffee shop, drawing all eyes to her, but she glared at the group of popular girls seeming not to even notice the rest of us.

The popular girls looked up at her in sneering disgust.

"Really Nova," their leader spoke. "The gutter comes out of the girl. Good luck. Girls like you are like junk food. Occasionally everyone takes it home, but no one wants to eat it every day. Just… appreciate your moment in the spotlight as the moment it was. And move the fuck on, you're just embarrassing everyone with your desperation."

Nova spun and ran for the door, almost bowling over a little boy, had his mother not snatched him away, calling out after her in anger. A moment later, as I made the mother and her son their order, the Corniche passed the window at speed.

I sighed and, after serving the mother and son, looked down at my wrist. The skin was reddened, and I wondered if it would bruise. I recognized the man. Warren. The unbinding spell had predicted that his wife would return to him and die because of it. I hoped that the spell was wrong.

"Hey."

I glanced up, startled. Mal stood on the other side of the counter, and immediately I was back in that pool with his hands and mouth on me. I felt my cheeks heat. "Hi," I replied cautiously.

"Just hi?" He was ridiculously handsome in his tailored chinos and polo shirt with his bright hair tied back at the nape of his neck. He leaned against the bench. "Surely, we're beyond hi… When are you off?"

"Ah…" I glanced at the clock whilst smoothing my palms down my apron, absently wondering if I was a mess. "Ten minutes."

"Wonderful. I'll meet you out front and give you a lift home."

"I… ah, rode my bike here," I told him.

"No problem," he dismissed my concern with a wave of his hand. "I'll take care of it. You're the house on the hill, under the lighthouse, right?"

"Right," I was hesitant. He had done his research, which wasn't necessarily a good thing if he was, as Ender had implied, not entirely as human as he appeared. "My friend, last night…" I started.

"Is that what he is to you?" Mal arched an eyebrow with a wicked grin. My manager cleared his throat behind me as he left the kitchen, disapproving of a personal conversation during work time. "Anyway," Mal tapped his hand on the counter before pushing away. "Ten minutes."

I hurried to finish wiping down for the next shift and ducked into the bathroom to fix my hair and makeup nervously on my way to the back door. My bike was not there, and Mal leaned against a silver Porsche Cabriolet. He opened the passenger door with a flourish.

"My bike?" I wondered as I slid into the seat.

"Trust me," he said as he closed the door behind me.

I watched him round the car to the driver's side and he flashed me a grin as he started the engine.

"My friend said that you…" I hesitated. There were rules. Things that should not be spoken of. "That I should be wary of you."

"Did he now?" Mal replied with amusement. "What reason did he give for that?"

"Something about you playing a game…" I watched his face for a response.

He laughed. "I don't play games, Nyx," he told me, and his eyes flashed with an inner fire. "Unlike your friend. He loves a good game."

"Does he?" I was surprised as he pulled out onto the road with reckless speed and a squeal of tires that left me clutching at the side of the car in an instinctive reaction.

"Oh yeah. He likes to play with people and watch what they do. Recently, I believe, he's been fascinated by John B Watson and B F Skinner, but he's always been that way inclined. He is cruel behind the kindness, you know?"

"I've seen no cruelty in him," I protested. "He is always kind and gentle."

"Sure," he flicked me a look from the corner of his eye. "Whilst it suits him to be."

"Why do you hate him?" I was fascinated by the conversation, and by all it revealed to me.

"I was the victim of one of his little experiments, and I paid the price of his little game." There was a darkness to his voice as he spoke that sent a shiver up my spine. He ignored all the speed limits of the town as he navigated the roads and started up the hill. "I have been waiting my time to return the favor ever since."

"What has that got to do with me?" I asked as he pulled to the stop before my house. My bike leaned against the front porch. He had used magic to get it there - I knew it. I was also beginning to be certain that I knew what he was.

"He's been hanging around you, like a smitten bee around a flower. He's never done that before. I was intrigued," Mal twisted in the seat to look at me and put his arm along the back of the chair. "I had to meet you to see if I could understand why."

"Why?" I asked him. It was something that I also wanted to know the answer to.

He grinned and leaned over, cupping my cheek with the palm of his hand, and lifting my mouth to his. He kissed me, and it was a different kiss from that we'd shared the night before, which had been filled with fire and passion. This one was more careful, tried harder, and waited to see how I would react. His lips explored mine, his tongue stroking and teasing, his fingers slipping into my hair as he drew me closer so that he could kiss me deeper.

When he eased back, we looked at each other for a long moment, and for the first time, there was a hint of uncertainty shadowing his eyes, although his lips curled into a smile. "Why do you think?" He asked me in reply.

"I think…" I swallowed. I could taste him still on my tongue, the spice of him. "I think that you have lied."

His eyes widened in surprise and his laugh was startled from him. "Lied?" He replied. "For once, I have been completely honest. Believe me," he added. "That's somewhat unusual of me. What do you think I've lied about?"

I got out of the car, and closed the door, leaning against it. "I think that you're also playing games, Mal. And I'm a piece, a pawn, that you're positioning on the board. Thanks for the ride home." I stepped back.

"I'll pick you up tomorrow," he said immediately. I raised my eyebrows in query. "To meet the teachers and tutors," he prompted his smile widening. "Didn't you pay attention yesterday?"

"Oh," I vaguely recalled something about that on the forms from Pinegrove Academy. "Of course."

"Nine, on the dot," he said. "Don't be late!"

When I opened the front door, both aunts were standing in the hall, Fennel in her black, her hair braided to the side, using the bulk of it to disguise the texture of her scar, and Callista in a peacock blue kimono robe glittering with sequins. They both were caught in expressions of surprise and concern.

"Hi," I said slowly looking between them.

"That was not the boy from yesterday," Callista observed, recovering herself. "What was his name again? The blonde one?"

"No," I realized that they had been watching ever since Mal had pulled down the driveway and had realized what he was. "That was Mal. I met him at the funeral, you remember? He also goes to Pinegrove. He's going to give me a lift to the thing tomorrow."

"What thing is that dearest?" Fennel wondered frowning in concern.

"Meeting teachers and tutors," I explained.

"Ah. Mal…" Fennel looked at Callista.

"Mal is - " Callista started.

"What does it mean when a demon seeks you out?" I asked her.

Their expressions cleared of concern, and instead became thoughtful. They both turned towards the kitchen, seeking the center of their knowledge and power as they pondered the question. Fennel filled the kettle and placed it on the stove whilst Callista sat at the table and picked up a bag of rune stones.

"Mostly mischief," Callista said as she began a Norns cast. The first stone she drew was Perthro. Her eyes lifted and met mine, a faint frown between them. The second stone was Jera. The third was Wunjo. "Hmm," her expression eased. "You have been reading up on demons. Perhaps this is your answer, Nyx?"

"Perhaps," my voice was hoarse. I swallowed to clear it. "Perhaps it is."

"He is very handsome," Fennel volunteered.

"Very flashy," Callista added.

"That too," Fennel agreed. "Callista liked the car." And both aunts smothered their giggles.

"If I haven't invoked a demon, doesn't that change things?" I wondered. "Like, there isn't an agreement in place?"

"He would be the one to answer that," Callista suggested.

"But don't start the conversation unless you're very sure," Fennel cautioned me and reached out to touch Perthro. "Although Perthro means intense chemistry in romance, it can also mean mystery or secrets. Jera can mean the cycle of life, or justice, or simply not rushing."

Jera could also refer to a harvest and reaping of what was sown. I could not overlook the connection to Ender, who I suspected was a grim reaper. Grim reapers were associated with a scythe as a symbol of their purpose and role in escorting the dead – the grim harvest.

"As it's in the place of a challenge or obstacle," Fennel continued. "It means that you will find this hard to do."

"She has always been impatient," Callista agreed.

"Wunjo is a balance stone, joy, success, and deep, respectful love," Fennel smiled sweetly.

"Something unheard of amongst Vossens," I reminded her.

"That is true," Fennel gathered the stones and returned them to their sack. "And that's something to always keep in mind. Love is like a candle flame. It is bright and beautiful, but it also burns."

"A man came to the coffee shop today," I changed the subject.

"There seems to be a lot of men involved in your life at this time, Nyx," Callista observed with wry amusement, her eyes narrowing as she leaned back in her chair.

"The man from the other night," I ignored her. "The one with the wife and child. Warren."

"Ah," she sat forward. "What of him?"

"He threatened me," I told her. "I was…" I didn't want to admit to my fear.

"Hmph," Callista made the sound through her nose. "Did you report it to your manager?"

"No," I was taken aback by the suggestion. It had not occurred to me.

"Well, you should," Callista said firmly. "He cannot come into your workplace and threaten you."

"I guess, I didn't want to… You know… Because he came here," I said hesitantly. I hadn't wanted to bring Vossen business to the police.

"I reported that to the police," Callista replied. "Omitting certain details, of course. And I will add this to the report. He cannot go around threatening us," she added.

"I thought we'd do something ourselves," I raised my eyebrows suggestively.

"A spell?" Callista rose from her seat. "Magic can do many things, Nyx, but sometimes the most effective solution is the one that exists for everyone. In this case, if a man threatens you at work, you report it to your manager. If a man threatens us in our home, we report it to the police. And then, yes," she held out her hand to Fennel, who placed a pouch into it. "We strengthen the wards around our home, and on ourselves. It is timely, perhaps that Fennel finished this last night," she opened the pouch and took out the memento mori necklace.

"Turn around," Fennel encouraged, watching eagerly as I presented Callista with my back and pulled my hair over my shoulder to make it easier for her to close the chain. "What is this?" Fennel's tone changed as she caught my wrist. Pulling my hair aside had exposed Ender's gift around my wrist. "And this!" She discovered the ring as she pulled my hand down.

"Interesting," Callista said as she stepped around me and took my hand in order to join Fennel's scrutiny. "Powerful charms. From this… Mal?" She asked me, meeting my eyes without releasing my hand.

"Ah… no," I felt my cheeks heat. "Someone else."

"Curiouser and curiouser," Callista exchanged a look with Fennel. "A blonde man at the Academy," she said to her sister.

"A redhead in a Porsche," Fennel added.

"And now this one. A brunette," Callista touched the woven hair. "Well, they do say, variety is the spice of life. But…" She released me at last. "Back to Warren. Report the incident to your manager and be careful, Nyx. Men like him are dangerous, and no spell can protect you from a man who seeks to cause you harm."