Show me Malcolm’s face.
I will it… So mote it be”
The scrying mirror rippled as the spell settled onto it.
For a long moment, nothing happened. Then the mirror rippled and revealed a glimpse of Malcolm’s apartment in New York.
Reginald had had the misfortune to visit that place once. The dreaded city was as welcoming as a tomb. Not a hint of magic anywhere in sight. Probably because of all of the technological interferences. If there were witches or warlocks nearby, he’d never been able to sense them in that environment which felt so dead of magic. He knew his son enjoyed human life, that he thrived in it but his living space reflected none of Malcolm’s vibrance. How could his son truly be happy in a place like that?
Long minutes passed as Reginald waited for Malcolm to walk near the mirror and be revealed. But only silence and emptiness remained. Where was his son?
The scrying glass trembled and the view of Malcolm’s apartment vanished. Reginald found himself instead staring at Serafina Batsford. She was a truly beautiful woman. The only hint of her age was in the faint glints of silver in her lustrous dark hair and the fine lines at the corners of her eyes. As the head of the Salem’s Witch Council, she was the most powerful witch in the eastern half of the United States.
“Serafina,” he greeted through gritted teeth. “To what do I owe this pleasure?”
“Reginald, the Council wishes to know when your son will deign to join us. It has been three months since he turned thirty. I trust you reminded him of his birth sworn duty to serve on the Council? Lord Bromley is ready to retire by the end of the year, and we must have thirteen members to complete our rituals.”
Reginald sighed. “Yes, I am well aware, Lady Batsford. My son is being… difficult.” The word was hard to say. He didn’t want to admit that about his son, but it was the truth. Malcolm was incredibly difficult when it came to magic. He had so much power, but ever since that unfortunate accident as a boy, he’d suppressed his own magic to the point that he didn’t even seem to realize he was doing it.
Lady Batsford arched a brow. “How so?”
“He left my home the other evening when I reminded him of his duty, and he opened a witch portal on the street. He went straight through it. I have been trying to locate him since then, but I cannot.”
“You have been scrying for him, I assume?” she asked.
“Yes.” He hated to admit that somehow his son had found a way to hide.
“He’s not to be found?” Lady Batsford sounded completely baffled at his failure to find Malcolm.
“No,” Reginald admitted. He was a powerful warlock, and yet he could not locate his own son, a son who had no aptitude to cast a spell to hide himself.
“The Council will locate Malcolm for you. I will be in touch once we have his location.”
That grated on Reginald’s nerves, to have the Council chasing after his child, when he’d been unable to bring him in to fulfil his duty… his destiny. But he couldn’t reject the Council’s help.
“Thank you.” He hesitated, then said, “Lady Batsford… My son’s magic is unpredictable. Are you quite certain he should serve on the Council? If something were to happen during a ritual casting and he lost control… It could be dangerous.” He regretted ever promising his son to the Council, and now he feared there was no way to undo it, not without dire consequences.
The witch’s face softened. “Reggie.” She said his name with all the familiarity of the years that they had known each other. “I was there the day he was born. The tea leaves spoke the prophecy of his great powers, that he would be a warlock of a new age. That he would marry a powerful witch would save magic at its source. He belongs on the Council. Children of prophecy cannot be ignored. When we told you we would take him under our care and raise him as a child of the Council, you believed in his future enough to make the blood vow that he would serve. And pending that your vow remained unfulfilled by his thirtieth year, your own life would be forfeit. I didn’t want you to make that vow, old friend, but you were so confident you could convince him to join us…”
“I was a fool,” Reginald admitted more softly.
“You were young. We all were,” she reminded him gently.
“I never dreamed my son would not want his destiny, that he’d turn away from magic the way he has. I let my pride rule me…”
“And now, if we do not take care, it will kill you.” Lady Batsford sighed, the sound heavy with responsibility.
Reginald felt that weight too deeply on his own shoulders. Desperate to clear his head for a moment of dark thoughts he asked after Lady Batsford’s daughter. “And your own child of prophecy? I heard that Tamsin was to be wed soon?”
Lady Batsford flinched. “Supposed to…We’ve had her match set since birth, yet it seems she has other plans.”
Reginald couldn’t hide his own relief that he wasn’t the only one with a wayward child. “Oh?”
“She recently visited England to see my mother. Now she can’t stop talking about some English Dragon shifter from the Belishaw family. I don’t care how old his lineage is, I told her there will be no dragons in the family. God knows what it would be like having children with dragon blood. They’d hoard all the silverware and set fire to my home when they visit. But none of that matters. Her betrothal contract is unbreakable. She will accept that she must marry who we have chosen for her, just as your son will serve on the Council once we find him.”
“I will keep looking as well,” he promised his old friend. “I have added a binding spell on him to enforce his duty to return to Boston.” But he feared it wouldn’t be enough, not that he’d dare tell Lady Batsford that.
“I had better go. Curtis has just come home and we have much to discuss.”
