Earlier that same week, she had spent half the morning working in the kitchen, attempting to suspend gossamer strands of Araneaen silk in hyaluronic acid, completely oblivious to the black cat who was napping on the shelf above the cauldron.
When she’d at last taken note of the dark shape above the fire, it been another of those little blasts of memory — coming home from school to find Holt sleeping on the kitchen table in a puddle of sunlight while her aunt worked nearby, stepping around the black cat in the garden as she went out to do the weeding, watching him sit like a sentinel on the front porch as she waited for the bus. Her eyes had filled with tears at the time, although she hadn’t disturbed him.
Later that same morning, she found him back in his man skin, sitting at the big, round table with an untouched cup of tea before him. He was sitting adjacent to Willow’s chair, staring despondently at the empty space. She hadn’t been able to hold in her tears then, joining him at the table. They had a shared history in this house, they had loved the same people, and it didn’t matter what else had happened. There was no sense in holding onto the hurt, for he was right about that, too. The wheel never stopped turning.
Holt said nothing when she reached out to his hand on the table, threading her fingers with his, as they stared at Willow’s empty chair.
“If there had been any other way,” he’d said in a low voice, “if it could have happened by another method . . . Iamsorry, Elizabeth. I wish there had been another way. But everything that has come to pass is as it was meant to be. We are all standing exactly where we are meant to be.”
She had not answered, but nor had she let go of his hand. It didn’t matter anymore.
“What was taken must return, and night shall steal day.”
His voice had been a low, hypnotic purr, and she’d shivered at the time. But now, back beneath the bright overhead lights of the community center, with the buzz of several dozen voices around them, Ladybug was not sure if she wanted to hear what Holt wasthinking.
“I really don’t know if I like the sound of that.”
He rolled his eyes. “Whatever. I was thinking it might be nice to put your library to good use. You have so many rare editions on your shelf, and more than that, you have beginner volumes of every subject. I don’t know if you quite realize how unusual that is to find in a household library these days. It was commonplace once, when witches were educated at home, but now that the Collegium system has become the norm . . . Well, I’m just saying. It might be nice to pay that knowledge forward.”
“I’m not interested in selling any of my books, Holt.”
He was always looking for an angle, she had fast discovered. She appreciated his sales acumen when he was seated beside her on Saturdays, as he was now, but any other time, Ladybug knew she had to be on her guard. She was willing to put behind her the hurt and betrayal of the last year, was willing to allow him to make amends each week beside her, and share in their mutual grief, but she would never fully trust him again.Walk wary of magic that is beyond understanding, for it owes allegiance to no one. She was grateful for his help, and she was satisfied that they’d mended their fences, but she’d not be fooled again.
“Well good, because that’s not what I meant. Youdounderstand the vacuum Authricia’s death has left in this community, do you not? If there’s any valid criticism of her tenure, it was not securing her replacement before her decline.”
“She did secure a successor,” Ladybug reminded him through clenched teeth. “Rebecca Raynish would have been an excellent high crone. That’s the funny thing about brain aneurysms, though, sometimes they strike out of the blue.” Holt sniffed, but she continued, undeterred. “And then there was Ellena Wormgreen. She had been the back-up choice after Rebecca, was supposed to have been ready to step in. Then her daughter needed help with the kids, so Ellena moved down south. She sold her house in aweekend, Holt. Months of preparation, of coaching and instruction. Poof, gone. In a weekend. Authricia did her best to prepare that Mills woman for the vote, but Evelyn already had her hooks in people.”
Her face was hot when she stopped speaking, thinking through the disasters that had befallen their coven, one after another. Like dominoes lined up by an invisible hand, a perfect storm of events that all seemed to lead to her expulsion from the group. Ladybug took a deep breath, pushing down the memories and the hurt and embarrassment. This time of year was fraught, and it did not do any good to linger on what was.
Hexennacht loomed on the calendar, only another week away. It had been her favorite celebration of their year, once.
She had memories of a Hexennacht from her childhood, dancing beneath the moon as a cold rain lashed at her skin. It might have been intolerable on any other night of the year, but on that night it had not mattered. The rain was a part of the night, there to celebrate along with the circle of sisters, and besides — the heat from the blazing fire had kept her warm as she danced, elated by the rising euphoria of the circle. She’d spun and whirled, spinning until she was dizzy, singing to the moonlight along with the chorus of voices around her. The first time she had seen the power of the coven, the first time she had felt the ancient belonging within the circle of sisters. It had been the first time she hadfeltlike a witch.
But then it had been another Hexennacht when her fortunes had changed, when she’d been cast out of the circle, and she worried that the celebration would be forever tainted.That’s all behind you now. This was her year of starting things anew. She had bigger things to focus on, her new business here, and the battle with City Hall. It did no good to dwell.New business, new clients. New Ladybug.
“Regardless,” he went on with an eye roll. “I don’t think anyone would deny that there’s been a substantial loss in the educational element of the new order. You’re not the only witch who doesn’t attend meetings, you know. I’m sure there are plenty of others who have never been welcome to join the group in the first place, let alone the ones who’ve not returned.”
“I’m still not sure what that has to do with me.”
He frowned but did not continue, settling into his chair in what could only be described as a pout, and it was her turn to roll her eyes.That’s not your fault. He can speak plainly or not at all. Enough of these infernal riddles.Several minutes ticked by in silence. Beside her, Holt was thoroughly engrossed in his phone, ignoring her.That’s fine. You need to save your voice anyhow.She straightened the edge of the tablecloth, moving bars of soap around to ensure a full array of scents were on display, her nerves jangling as they did every week. She was getting better, she hoped, but she’d nevernotbe a bubble of anxiety every Saturday morning.
“Do you remember Pernella Larchmore?”
She jumped at the unexpected change in conversation, his voice casual and unperturbed, giving no indication that he’d just been sulking. Ladybug considered that she had to give credit where it was due. Holt was nothing if not intrepid. He didn’t give up, changed tactics and learned from his mistakes. She wondered if it was a skill he had learned in his many long years of existence, or if his many long years of existence were owed to such slipperiness.A chicken/egg scenario if there ever was one.
“I do. The cottage library, right? She and Authricia were very close. Why do you ask?”
He shrugged, raising his hands in an expansive gesture. “So much knowledge. So much of our history, just sitting unused on your shelves. Rare works, important works. Handwritten grimoires that go back centuries, Elizabeth. Pernella could have left them to her sister, to her nieces, could have donated them to the library or sold them at auction, but she didn’t do any of that. She gave them all to Authricia.
“Yes, but —“
“Because she knew their knowledge would best be stewarded by the high crone. The gift of those references was a gift to the whole coven. And that’s only a tenth of the knowledge you have sitting on the shelves, gathering dust.”
“What would you have me do?!”
Ladybug saw the trap for what it was, a heartbeat too late. He sat up, phone forgotten, a green gleam of triumph shining from his citrine eyes, knowing he had her precisely where he’d wanted her from the beginning.Who are you kidding? He can fool you every day of the week and twice on Tuesdays.
“I think you ought to start a study group. There are witches in the area who don’t even know where to begin. They don’t belong to any coven, they’ve never belonged. They are either new to their path or have been solitary for so long, they don’t even realize what they are missing.Youcan show them, Elizabeth.Youcan pick up Authricia’s torch. Put the emphasis back on education and core competencies. Put all you have been taught to use.”
