Ladybug gulped. Grayson was Jack’s most terrifying son. Several years older than her and Trapp, a lawyer for the Werewolf Defense League, hard and huge and completely intimidating.You shouldn’t have said anything at all.
“Don’t worry, we’ll do it here,” Jack added, as if he were reading her thoughts.Because you probably look as if you’re about to cry.“And I promise I’ll feed him beforehand, that will improve his mood exponentially. But the point is, I don’t want you to worry. Nothing is going to come of this. Ansleth doesn’t want to work that hard his last few months in office, and if he tries, the last thing he’ll see on his way out the door is my foot. I don’t want you to worry about it, Elizabeth, not at all. Don’t let them make you take your eye off the ball.”
She nodded again.Don’t worry. Don’t panic. Let Jack take care of things.
“Sixty?” he asked suddenly, catching her off guard. “Willow and your mother. They would be sixty this year.” He’d blown out a hard breath when she’d nodded, not trusting her voice to remain steady. “That doesn’t seem possible. Seems like yesterday I was taking Willow to the Collegium’s ball. The only thing certain in this world is that we all keep getting older.”
Her eyes had pricked with tears when he rose from his desk as she gathered her bag to leave a short while later. “I’m not going to hide, Jack,” she’d said from the door, pausing as he came around the desk. “I’m not going to hide him away in my house like we’re doing something wrong. Even if people think they’re violent, which, by the way, is ridiculous, he’s the only male Araneaen in the area. There’s no danger having him here.”
Jack Hemming graced her with the first smile that had lifted his mouth since she’d told him about the Makers’ Mart.
“Good girl. Like I said, there’s nothing for you to worry about. You don’t need to hide anything. I’ll tell you what we’ll do, let’s redirect their interest for a few weeks. Get your new business endeavor off the ground without distraction. Ansleth isn’t going to be in that office for long, Elizabeth. You just need to keep your head above water and tune out the rest until then. Let me worry about City Hall. And I want you to promise me that you’re going to get up every day and leave your house rememberingwhoyou are. Your mother was a strong witch. She didn’t give a shit about the neighbors either.”
Ladybug laughed, nodding again as she self-consciously wiped away the tears that were burning in her eyes at the mention of her mother, at the significance of his words. If the gossip had already reached Jack’s isolated tower, if he knew about the talk of proposed ordinances and had already brought the issue to his son, it meant it was serious, and that people were talking about her everywhere.
“You’re right. Of course, you’re right about everything. I–I promise I won’t forget that.”
Ladybug paused outside the building, sucking in a bracing breath of the cool air. Taking a moment to sit on the bench just off the sidewalk, she fished out her earbuds.
Shortly after their relationship had changed from that of border and landlord, Anzan had transferred all of her old lecture recordings to digital files, mumbling that it was like she lived in the dark ages as he uploaded all of them onto a single playlist that she was able to access from any of her devices. She appreciated the gesture more than she could say, thrilled to be able to bring her most soothing aural companions with her wherever she went, slipping her purple earbuds in whenever she felt particularly overwhelmed by the world outside her door. The familiar lessons on herbology and blending gave every situation a softer edge and lowered her heart rate. Scrolling to the track she wanted to hear, she closed her eyes.
“They will call you many things, my dears.”
Even though she was expecting it, Ladybug still jumped at the sound of her aunt’s voice. Authricia had always been able to command a room with little more than her contralto voice, deep and booming and steadfast. It was little wonder she had been the high crone for as long as she was.
“They will call you a hedge witch if you toil in a garden, if herbs and bark are your tools, if plants speak to you the way crystals speak to the sister beside you. They will call you a kitchen witch if you weave your magic through soups and teas, with spices for healing.”
Jack Hemming was right about the way memories could be perceived. Her eyes burned again, remembering the day this had been recorded as if it were last week. She had been no more than twelve or fourteen, awkward and ungainly, sitting at the back of the room of older girls.
“They will call you a lunar witch if you draw down the moon and bottle her power. A hearth witch if your wand is a set of knitting needles.”
A group of high school-aged girls were going to be advancing to the junior coven, out of the juvenile ranks, practically women. She hadn’t belonged there, she was far too young and far too awkward, but Authricia always used her in such a capacity. An assistant in her lessons, chosen over one of the older girls or the more privileged girls, over one of the girls who sparkled and beguiled. It had been torturous at the time, but Ladybug understood now that it had been her aunt’s way of showing her off, showing how capable she was at such a young age, forcing her into her power. All she had wanted was to hide away, but now looking back, there was very little she wouldn’t be willing to do to steal back even one of those moments with her family.
“They will call you many things, but there is only one title that matters, my dear ones. It matters not where your specialty lies. The title you will wear for the rest of your days issister. You step forth this day as a part of this ancient sisterhood, a power that lives in your bones, passed down from your mothers and all the mothers that came before.”
Your mother was a strong witch, and she didn’t give a shit about the neighbors either.
“No matter where you go or how isolated you may feel, no matter if your coven is large and well-funded or if you are forced to practice alone, I bid you to hold your head high, sisters. A witch does not walk to the noose with a lowered head and shame in her heart, for she walks with her sisters beside her. From this day forward, your heart beats in time with all those who came before you, and yours will beat with all those who come after.”
Ladybug wiped away her tears, sick and tired of crying. Tired of being afraid, of having this nameless worry hanging over her indefinitely. Her mother had been a strong witch, and she was her mother’s daughter. She was the descendent of a family of strong witches, and she didn’t care what people said. She was going to show them all what a Brackenbridge witch could do.
The City Hall office was even more crowded upon her return, even more people who would stop and gape, but she didn’t care. She retook her place in the line with her chin high, Authricia’s voice booming in her mind.
Women like her had for centuries been put to the pyre, had been hanged and drowned. Ifthiswas her noose, Ladybug decided, as she passed the notarized copy of her business license under the window, staring coolly back at the reptilian woman on the other side, she would keep her head held high. This was her home. She was a Brackenbridge witch, and Anzan was the partner she had chosen. It wastheirhome together, and they were not going to run away.
When the Cambric Creek Gazette was delivered a few days later, the gossip column was full of several tawdry tales from Oldetowne, but there was no mention at all of her, or of Anzan.
Stolen artwork spotted hanging on the wall of a Pear Street home, the same painting that had been reported stolen late last year from a house only a block away, the family returning from holiday to find their valuables mysteriously burgled. The owner of the house on Pear Street was, conveniently, the house-sitter’s aunt. Then there was a rumor of impropriety in the handling of funds in the estate of a recently departed werebear, the matriarch’s children hiding money from each other, and some tosh about the Dragonborn who’d caused the water main break on Main Street being under the influence of illegal substances obtained from an Oldetowne house party.
She had no idea how Jack had managed it, but for the next two weeks, her house might have been invisible, for all the attention they were paid. Perfect timing, at that.
Every minute since that afternoon had been a flurry of work, pulling out recipes for things she’d never made for anyone but herself, consulting the family grimoire, left to her when Authricia died, overcome with emotion whenever she came across notes in her mother’s handwriting.Witches at work.
Each day, she began working shortly after dawn, continuing some evenings until the kitchen was too dim to work, realizing belatedly she’d never taken a break and hadn’t seen Anzan all day. A necessary sacrifice, she reminded her tired bones and sore back. It was not enough to only bring the beauty items: the soaps and lotions and salves. She was a Brackenbridge witch, a name to live up to, and she would show the people of Cambric Creek what they could do.Especially everyone who’s been gossiping about you.
The following morning, Ladybug decided to let her kitchen rest. She had been neglecting her paperwork, deciding that the crisp, sunny morning was the perfect time to sit in the little rounded room off the foyer and catch up on her invoicing.Because after all, this entire month of work might turn out to be a colossal waste of time, and then you’ll be behind on everything. And when you’re finished, maybe you can make a catch of the clementine possets for Anzan.
Ladybug looked up from the little secretary’s desk where she did her billing, frowning at the sound of voices outside the window, breaking her concentration. Voices outside were not an uncommon thing, but these voices sounded particularly close. Close and argumentative. Argumentative and not entirely unfamiliar.
