Fae witch chronicles boo.., p.55
Fae Witch Chronicles Books 1 - 3, page 55
But the deciding factor was that people were already talking about whether Esras might be chosen for king. If that happened, it was speculated that he'd be expected to take an Unseelie bride as his queen. Esras said he wasn't interested in any of that, but I got one of those little psychic pings when thinking about it. I could see Esras making a great king, and I didn't want to be the one standing in his way, or in the way of what might be best for Faerie.
All of this might be a long way of saying that I freaked out once again when it came to commitment. I'm truly a mess on that score. But, hey, so far I've dated a necromancer, a changeling and a guy from Faerie. Needless to say, my love life has been complicated.
The music swells again, this time to signal that the guests of honor have all taken their seats. It's time to get this show on the road. All of us stare at Cade and Dabria, who now stand upon the altar, where a fae priestess will soon perform the ceremony.
Dabria looks radiant in her flowing silk gown, and Cade looks pretty dapper too in his new dark blue tunic. It too is made of the finest fabrics, the front brocaded with silver and gold. Upon his chest, he wears the medal bestowed upon him for the bravery he showed on behalf of the rebel cause. Way to go, Scamper. You really did end up being a hero, and it might well be that you’ll be remembered in children’s books.
Suddenly, a shadow falls over the crowd as something blocks out the sun. We all look up as massive scalloped wings push a breeze back down at us, and a long serpentine tail glides gracefully by.
Autumn gasps and grabs hold of my arm again. “They have dragons here?”
I smile and nod, but keep my eyes on the sky. After all, in the realm of Faerie, seeing a dragon is thought to be a very good omen. And I'm the one who set the dragon free.
EPILOGUE
It’s a beautiful, crisp and clear day as I get off the bus and walk through Carytown on my way to Grimoire. I pull my jacket tight against a chilly breeze, but that’s okay. We’re heading into winter and it should be cold. Richmond doesn’t get a lot of snow, but if we’re lucky we’ll get some soon. I’ve never felt more ready for winter. A real winter, with real ice and real snow. And, hey, maybe even a power outage or two. I’d be just fine with that too. That’s what blankets and candles are for. Well, okay, kind of lying to myself there, but if my phone is fully charged I should be able to hack it for a couple of hours.
The bells on the front door jingle as I enter the old bookstore, where Maggie sits perched on a stool behind the counter. “Sorry I’m late,” I say.
Why I say it, I’m not quite sure since I’m always late and Maggie never seems to care. In fact, it takes her a moment to look up from reading a beat up old volume she must have picked up on her rounds. I’m pretty sure she has the rest of Grimoire’s books memorized.
“No worries, sweetie,” she says. “Did you know that Leonardo Da Vinci was a witch?”
Despite the many things I’ve heard since living at the Cauldron and working at Grimoire, this one still stops me. “The painter?”
It’s a ridiculous response, I realize. Who else could she possibly mean?
Maggie closes her book. “As well as inventor, mathematician, musician, architect and scientist.”
“Just making sure we’re talking about the same guy.” I peel off my jacket, roll it into a ball and stuff it into one of the cabinets beneath the register.
“I didn’t know either,” Maggie says. “But it says here he may have been a speculomancer.” She taps the worn leather cover of the book she was just reading.
“Huh?”
Maggie chuckles. “Mirror magic. Which, by the way, has long been considered to be veil witch magic. Leonardo even left a sketch behind called ‘Witch Using a Magic Mirror.’ The drawing’s subject was a woman, of course, but we all know how Leonardo was when it came to women in his paintings.”
“As in the Mona Lisa.”
Maggie nods. “Exactly. So, let’s assume the woman in the illustration was actually Leonardo Da Vinci, at least metaphorically. The book I was just reading described how Leonardo said she could use her magic mirror to see the future. Think about it. No one has ever figured out how he imagined so many inventions that didn’t become part of reality until hundreds of years later. Airplanes, parachutes, the helicopter, the armored car, and so many others.”
“Interesting theory. So, you're saying Leonardo could see the actual future, and it wasn't just that he had a powerful imagination.”
“I'm sure it was both,” Maggie says. “No one is asserting that Da Vinci wasn't a genius. Clearly, he was. Most witches display extraordinary intelligence levels, but I'm sure you know that.”
My mind goes to recent antics involving Jerome and Bobby conjuring a Pocket Pixie and the spirit of a dead psychic, leaving me to silently ponder that point. Still, the idea of Leonardo Da Vinci having been a veil witch is beyond cool.
“By the way, I just made tea,” Maggie says. “Pumpkin chai. It just seemed right for a chilly day like this. Oh, and there’s brownies too. Help yourself, if you’d like.”
The odds of me declining Maggie’s offer of pumpkin chai and a brownie are about the same for me ever showing up on time. Right, never gonna happen. I go out back, fill a mug, snag a brownie, and pop back out front. I perch myself on a stool next to Maggie, prepared for a nice, mellow day spent watching an empty bookstore. Chances are, Maggie will soon depart for a date with one of her many middle-aged suitors. That’s half the reason she hired me to begin with, not that I’m complaining. Basically, I get paid for sitting and stuffing my face.
Sure enough, Maggie’s phone buzzes against the counter and she reads the text that just came in. She jumps up from her stool. “It's later than I thought. Tom's already at the restaurant.”
I have no idea who Tom is, but I can pretty much bet that he and Maggie will be doing more than lunch, because Maggie soon has her coat on and is heading toward the door with a particularly lively bounce to her step.
She’s just about to leave when suddenly she stops and turns around. She shakes her head and says, “Oh, my. I nearly forgot. There’s someone out back in Special Collections. You should probably go and say hello.”
I raise my eyebrows and wait for more. Generally, we don’t bother those visiting the Special Collections room unless they ask for our help. After all, it’s one of the few places where our fellow witches can sink their teeth into stacks of books dedicated to true magic.
“She said she knows you,” Maggie says. “She seemed very nice. Okay, I should be back by four. Five at the latest.”
The door closes behind her and Maggie bustles past the plate glass windows outside, while I sit there wondering who the hell could be out back in the Special Collections room. A chill runs through me that has nothing to do with the weather, as my heartbeat kicks up a notch. I tell myself I’m just being paranoid. Maggie said “she,” so chances are it’s either someone from the Cauldron or one of the local witches from the city coven. I mean, come on. It’s not Vintain inhabiting Grayson or any other changeling. He’s a done deal. I finish my brownie, take a last sip of my tea, and set off toward the room out back known to just the select few who are allowed access.
I enter the room to see a woman sitting at the old table in there. She’s hunched over a book, with a stack of other books nearby. She has gray hair, and the lanyard of her reading glasses rests on the shoulders of her cardigan sweater. Apparently, she’s too engrossed in her reading to have heard me come in.
I clear my throat and wait for her to look up. When she does, my heart nearly stops. Until this moment, I’ve assumed I’d never see her again. In fact, I’ve assumed that she never truly existed, along with the place where we met.
Beatrice’s eyes meet mine and she smiles. “Oh, Cassie, there you are. It’s so nice to see you again.”
I open my mouth to speak, but no words come out as images flash through my mind. Riding in Grayson's sleek Jaguar. Parking in what looked to be an abandoned lot. Entering a building that just appeared out of nowhere to meet the same woman I'm now facing.
“I realize it’s a little abrupt, just dropping in like this,” Beatrice says. “But I’ve been meaning to ask. Have you given any more thought to working with us at the Shadow Order?”
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About J. S. Malcom
J. S. Malcom is the author of the Realm Watchers, Fae Witch Chronicles, Demigoddess Chronicles and Crossroads Witch urban fantasy series. J. S. lives in Richmond, Virginia, a town full of history and ghosts (not to mention, many other supernatural creatures, including Autumn, Cassie, Julia and Amaya).
J.S. Malcom, Fae Witch Chronicles Books 1 - 3
