“What truths did you force from them?” I wonder.
“Surprisingly, Ralston Samuels won his seat on the town council legitimately. His family lineage goes back a long way in this town. Maybe his ancestors were more likeable. He sat on the town council for quite a few years. His cronies Weatherby and Atticus cheated their way into their seats. They bought illegal cloaked magick from a fellow warlock—something they weren’t even skilled enough to do themselves—and used it on the ballots they cast to tamper with the vote count. We picked up that male too on his own charges. He had quite a bit to spill. It’s a mess, frankly. But my part is done. They’re the court’s problem now,” he explains with a satisfied smirk.
“How did Clancy respond?” I ask, truly curious.
“He told me he knew those election results werehorse shit.” Niven cracks up.
Chapter 20
Ada
Waking up rested, alert, ready for the day, it makes me realize just how much the fae’s spell affected me. The last two and a half months feel like a fog that has finally lifted. Waking up to my mate lying in bed next to me makes it even better. Norrell has always been the love of my life. I trust he’ll never intentionally hurt me again. His desire to build a life together as mates is sincere. I see it in his eyes and in his actions. I know he’s a changed male.
When I go downstairs while Norrell is showering, it’s quiet except for the boys, who were not happy about missing out on all the action yesterday. They meow grumpily for their breakfast, still annoyed that I shut them in a spare bedroom until the evening after everyone had left. They had everything they needed, but that doesn’t matter. I know it’ll take another day or two for them to forgive me.
After filling their bowls, I reach for the tea kettle out of habit. Stopping myself, hand in mid-air, I realize I don’t need it anymore. My lips curl into a smile. I can make tea the normal way again. I take out my favorite mug and fill it with water. Then the words flow from my lips as naturally as if my magick neverleft me. “Water turn so piping hot as though heated in a pot.” Simple and to the point. I drop in the tea bag and let it steep.
It’s a silly, domestic thing, but feeling the magick around my house is comforting, like being wrapped in a warm blanket. I walk into the workshop, loud with the magick I’ve poured into enchantments, but there are still remnants of my mom’s magick in the tools and worktable. I run my hands over them. A few happy tears spill down my cheeks. I’ll never take this feeling for granted.
When my tea is steeped, I take it with me and sit in the back garden. I murmur my spell to strengthen the ward, the same one my family used for generations. “May the magick of our ancestors protect this home and keep away those who would harm it.” The words have even more meaning than I ever realized. They did protect me and my home.
Taking my tea with me, I get up and wander the garden, admiring Norrell’s handiwork. It’s hard to picture going through this ordeal without him. I grew so weak by the end. As he told me earlier in bed, he’s going to continue taking on his share of the work keeping up this big old house alongside me. If he finds meaning in it, he should continue with whatever work he pleases. This is his home too now. Though I can’t help but use some magick to sweep away a layer of leaves and debris that have fallen recently.
“Collect the leaves and twigs that fall and bind them tight into a ball.” As if a wild breeze blows through the yard, the layer sweeps into a neat little pile and magickally adheres together. I kick it toward the edge of the back garden into the trees on my property line. It’ll eventually fall apart when the spell fades.
I walk around the side of my house to the front lawn. The tall, ornate old cast iron fountain gurgles peacefully. I should spend more time on my front porch again listening to its calming ambient sound. The enchantment on the fountain still feelsstrong, but I give it a boost anyway. It started out as a chore when I was a child, but it feels more like a tribute to my home and ancestors. “With cold clean water clear and flowing, free of leaves and dirt and never slowing.” The water splashes and dances a little more vigorously down its tiers.
I slowly wander back inside. Norrell is downstairs and dressed, giving the boys much needed attention. “Ready to head to the clinic?” he asks.
He’s smiling like a fool. I believe I am too. He chuckles, picking me up and twirling me around the foyer. When he finally sets me down, he kisses me thoroughly, so passionate and full of promise. I’m ready to live life to the fullest again, and I’m so glad it will be with Norrell at my side.
We knew the fae spell was gone, but it’s a load off my mind to hear it officially from the healers clinic. All of this was a difficult price to pay to bring Norrell back into my life. But in the end, I came out on the other side with so much more than I started with. Mother Earth smiled upon me.
When Norrell drops me off after we visit the clinic, he and his brother are finally on their way to join Niven to make sure the fae never harms anyone else ever again. I’m glad. It was evil incarnate. Both Cara and I will breathe easier knowing it’s gone for good.
My dad’s journal, my Yule gift, has been sitting on my nightstand for weeks. I pick it up at night and flip through it. But I haven’t had the energy to make any headway.
It’s a crisp January day, perfect for a thick cozy sweater and sitting outside with a hot drink to finally read the journal. Sensing lingering hints of my dad’s magick around the house as I take it downstairs puts me in the right frame of mind to absorb everything he has written. I want to get to know my dad again, and this journal will surely help.
Sitting on my front porch, a hot mug of tea next to me, I carefully open its leatherbound cover. My dad’s neat script fills the pages. Its long skinny loops and steep angle are a solace amidst my parents’ loss all those years ago. It still cuts deeply, but I am ready to move forward without the tunnel vision of grief. The journal recounts the month he spent living in a village of púca, a particularly mischievous and powerful type of shifter, hidden away along coastal Ireland. They liked to tease him, taking their favored animal forms when speaking with him. He wrote that it made learning the phonetics of the language a little more difficult than usual, but he had a lot of fun doing it.
The journal is a treasure. A brief glimpse into his life before he met my mom. They both loved to travel together, but for him it was a lifelong passion. Mayhap I would have shared in it more had my life been different. With Norrell at my side, I could be a little more adventurous again.
When Norrell and Elgar return from the constabulary, they still look careworn, but noticeably lighter. Especially Norrell. This has been a long journey for him as well. Since Elgar is staying with us until tomorrow, we walk around town with him, showing him our favorite spots. It’s a nice opportunity to get to know him since I’m not sure when we’ll see him again. Hopefully it won’t be too long.
The beach is our last stop we take him before dinner. I’m not sure that he’s ever seen one like this before. “This sand is so much more pleasant underfoot than the gravel and mud in our territory,” Elgar marvels. “You should be out here every day, brother.”
“Who says I am not? I take nothing for granted here,” Norrell teases, winking playfully at me. “It is also a refreshing change of pace to have a peaceful walk without any Malefic to bother you.”
Elgar grunts his enthusiastic agreement. “The townsfolk have made this a cheerful and welcoming place, Ada. I see whyit was always so dear in Norrell’s heart,” he tells me in unfeigned interest.
“It is. The town has grown a lot, but the heart of it remains the same. The vision my ancestors had for the town endures. My family has always been involved in its leadership in one way or another. I’m glad that their hope became a reality,” I share.
Elgar nods, considering my words. “I never thought it would be possible for so many Whispered Folk to live together in such harmony. It gives me much to think about as I take over leadership of the clan. They need a solid push toward a broader definition of acceptance. The shake-up we just had will finally be the impetus Norrell and I sought for so long. It would do our clan good to host visitors more often, like those witches from New York City. Our clan needs more exposure to the world at large.”
“You will accomplish what I never could,” Norrell assures him. “You are the leader to bring them into the future. My heart was too frostbitten to lead them there.”
“It is due to both of our efforts they will finally see that the world offers so much color and character, and that magick wielders are a large part of that,” Elgar reasons.
