Spellcasters (40 page)

I barely heard her. I couldn’t remember the walk back to the room, couldn’t remember who’d brought us or what they’d said. All I could hear was Savannah’s voice, accepting Nast’s proposition.

“You’re mad at me, aren’t you?”

“No, I’m not mad. Just … confused. It’s a lot to take in. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you earlier, about him claiming to be your father.”

“Things got pretty crazy. You wanted proof first. I guess I understand that.”

The truth was, I’d held back out of fear that something like this would happen, that Nast would breeze in and offer Savannah the world. In failing to tell her, I’d lost my chance to warn her. Anything I said now would seem churlish, disgruntled lies woven to sway her to my side. Even as she bounced around the room, chattering, I could feel her slipping away. As Nast said, I’d had nearly a year to make my case. Why hadn’t I done a better job? She’d called the Coven stupid and useless. That’s the alternative I’d shown her—a world where witches were stupid and useless.

I knew I should stay silent, let her see things for herself, but it took every bit of restraint to keep from shaking her and shouting “What are you doing?” Instead, I settled onto the bed before saying, “I’m glad you want me around, Savannah, but you know I can’t do this. I’m Coven Leader. I can’t just leave—”

“They kicked you out!”

“Yes, they’re angry, but—”

“You said you’d stay with me. You promised.”

“I know and I will, but—”

“Well, this is my decision. I want to be here and if you want to help me, you have to stay.”

She plopped onto the opposite bed, turned her back to me, and crossed her arms. We sat like that for a few minutes. A few times she half-turned, as if waiting for me to argue. When I didn’t, she twisted to face me.

“Don’t be mad, Paige,” she said. “Did you hear what he said? The best tutors, the best books, the best materials. I’ll get all that and I’ll share it with you. Isn’t that what you wanted?”

I didn’t answer.

“You’re worried because it’s a Cabal, right?” she continued. “I know what Lucas said, but, well, maybe he—my—Nast is right. Not that Lucas is lying. I don’t mean that. But he could be confused. Maybe he saw some really bad stuff. Stuff that doesn’t normally happen.”

Again, I said nothing.

“Fine. Be that way. Go back to stupid little East Falls, to your burned-down house. I won’t go. They don’t want us there. Every time you walk down the street, people are going to be pointing and saying stuff. Well, they won’t say stuff about me. I’ll be in California. I bet Adam will come visit me. He won’t be like this.”

“I’ll stay with you, Savannah. You know I will.”

She hesitated, then smiled and leaned across the beds to hug me. “It’s going to be okay, Paige. You just watch. This will be the best thing that’s ever happened to us.”

Still drowsy from the drugs, we dozed for an hour or so. Then a knock at the door woke us both. A woman peeked through.

“May we come in?” she asked.

Without waiting for a response, she pushed open the door and walked in. She was in her early forties, more handsome than pretty, with an angular jaw and a salt-and-pepper brush cut. Behind her was another woman, about twenty years older, with the same jawline and silver hair cut in a stylish bob.

“I’m Greta Enwright,” the younger woman said. “This is my mother, Olivia.”

“Livy, please,” the older woman said. “We’re so pleased to meet you. Both of you.” She bustled in behind her daughter and laid a silver tray on the nightstand. “I know your mother liked her tea, Paige. I took a chance on guessing you’d developed the same tastes.”

I blinked. “You knew my mother?”

“From years back. More years than I care to count.” A tinkling, girlish laugh. “I grew up in the Coven. My mother left when I was a teenager.”

“You’re—you’re a witch?”

“Oh, I’m so sorry. An incomplete introduction, Greta. I’ve always thought that strange, that we should be able to recognize sorcerers but not our own sisters. Greta is Mr. Nast’s witch.” Another laugh. “That sounds perfectly horrible, doesn’t it? And much too familiar. Cabals, as you may know, have only one witch. A very prestigious and exclusive position, which I was fortunate enough to be able to pass on to Greta when I retired. And now—” She turned a broad smile on Savannah. “We meet our official successor. I can’t tell you how pleased we are.”

Savannah hesitated, and looked from mother to daughter. “You’re not mad? I mean, I’ll be replacing you, won’t I?”

Greta laughed, a throaty chuckle that was the very opposite of her mother’s. “It’ll be some years before you’re ready for that, Savannah. By then, I’ll be ready to retire myself. An early retirement, most likely, but Mr. Nast has promised me a full pension. If anything, I should be thanking you.”

Olivia nodded. “And Mr. Nast has brought me out of retirement to help you get adjusted, for which he is more than adequately compensating me, so I should be thanking you as well.”

“You guys’ll be teaching us?”

“Us?” Greta repeated.

“Her,” I said. “So you’ll be her tutors?”

“In witch magic only,” Olivia said. “For the rest, you’ll have proper tutors. Sorcerers, I mean. They have the true magic.”

“Maybe not for long,” Savannah said, jumping from the bed. “Paige has these grimoires—”

I tried to stop her, but only halfheartedly. As much as I wanted to keep the grimoires secret, I was curious to hear the opinion of these women. I’d never met a Cabal witch. I’d expected—let’s be honest, I expected them to be a lot different, more intimidating, more dangerous, more, well, evil.

Savannah told them about the grimoires and our theory.

“Of course, Paige still has to test it,” she said. “We could be wrong.”

I refrained from telling the other witches that I
had
tested them, successfully. For now, better to keep that to myself.

“It sounds promising,” Greta said. “But I wouldn’t get my hopes up, ladies. Sorcerer magic is the magic of power. With all respect to women and equal rights, witch magic just doesn’t measure up.”

“I wouldn’t waste my time on it,” Olivia said. “Your tutors will teach you everything you need to know. As for those grimoires, I doubt they survived the fire.”

“No, Paige went back for them.” Savannah stopped and turned to me. “Where are they?”

“Cor—Lucas had them. I gave them to him.”

“Lucas Cortez?” Olivia said. “Oh, my, that’s right. I heard young Lucas was involved. He has quite the reputation, but we’ve never had the chance to meet him, have we, Greta? That must have been quite an experience. You’ll have to tell us all about him. Let me pour the tea first.”

Once the tea was poured, we sat on the edge of the bed. Olivia asked about Cortez. I let Savannah reply, discreetly cutting her short after a few sentences.

“Oh, he is an odd one,” Olivia said, clucking. “I feel so sorry for his father. Mr. Cortez is handling the situation remarkably well, though I must say, he lets the boy get away with far too much. All parents do, don’t they? A Cabal leader is no different from any father. You’ll see that, Savannah. Mr. Nast dotes on his boys and I’m sure he’ll treat you just the same.”

“As for Lucas Cortez,” Greta said, “young men are always looking for dragons to slay. And pretty damsels to rescue.” She slid a smile my way. “It’s only a stage. Soon he’ll come to see that Cabals aren’t the monsters he thinks they are.”

“What are they?” Savannah asked. “I mean, what are they really like?”

“Excellent employers,” Greta said. “Everything an employee could ask for. They offer comprehensive benefits, stock options, a solid pension plan, and excellent remuneration.”

Olivia laughed. “None of which interests you in the least, does it, Savannah? And with good reason. You won’t ever need to worry about those things. Your biggest concerns now will be whether you want to spend your summer vacation in France or Italy.”

“And what kind of sports car you want for your sixteenth birthday,” Greta added.

“I want a Porsche,” Savannah said, turning to me with a grin. “A Porsche convertible, like Clay’s. Only red. I want it in red.”

“You’ll get it,” Greta said. “This will be a whole new life for you, Savannah. A life any girl, and any witch, would envy.”

B
efore dinner, Greta and Olivia decided to squeeze in Savannah’s first lesson. They took us outdoors to a grove of forest beyond an unused barn. Leah and Friesen came along, presumably to guard Savannah from any external threat, but more likely to guard against any joint escape plan I might hatch. They needn’t have bothered. As long as Savannah wanted to stay, I was staying right beside her.

Greta started with witch magic, but it was clear her heart wasn’t in it and, as soon as she’d ascertained that Savannah already knew the basics, she moved on.

“Now, we’re going to show you some sorcery,” Greta said. “Of course, you’ll have a better tutor for this later, but I thought you might like to see a sampling of what you’ll learn. When we get back to Los Angeles, we can work more on your witch skills.”

Olivia grinned. “For now we’ll have some fun.”

Over the next hour, Greta and Olivia demonstrated a half-dozen spells. One was a variation on Cortez’s fog spell. Another shot a bolt of electrical energy from the caster’s hand. A third conjured colored lights. Obviously they were showing off, selecting spells that were little more than the magical equivalent of Fourth of July fireworks. Dime store magic, as Cortez would say. I wanted to turn up my nose at it, but the truth was, I was impressed.

As they cast, I couldn’t help thinking of all the possible uses for their spells. The fog spell would be handy for escapes, particularly in conjunction with the cover spell. The electrical bolt seemed an excellent variation on the fireball spell, something else to add to my repertoire of nonlethal defense. I wanted to find fault, to find evil, but I couldn’t. There was nothing wrong with this magic. Although it wasn’t any better than the magic in the tertiary witch grimoires, it wasn’t any worse, either—at least, not in the sense of being any less moral.

“Could you cast that fog spell again?” I asked.

Greta smiled. “You like that one?”

“It’s interesting. It contains components of wind and fire elemental witch spells, but the construction is much different. The invocation to Boreas is particularly unique. I suppose that’s a leftover vestige of its origin.”

Greta and Olivia stared at me as if I was speaking Greek, which, in a way, I was, since the spell itself was in Greek. After a moment of silence, Olivia laughed.

“To tell the truth, Paige, we have no idea what it says. We’ve never translated it.”

“You don’t know Greek?” Savannah said. “I thought all witches had to know Greek. And Latin and Hebrew. Enough to understand the spells, at least.”

“We don’t bother with that,” Olivia said. “I know some Latin from my school days, but it’s not important. The grimoires tell you what the spells do, and your tutors will explain the pronunciation.”

“Would you like to try a casting?” Greta asked Savannah.

“Sure.”

“Which one?”

Savannah grinned at me. “All of them. Teach us all of them.”

That evening Nast hosted a formal dinner party for Savannah. Savannah received her first little black dress, which was about two sizes too small in length and two sizes too big in width, but she was too excited to notice. She also received her first pair of heels and her first makeover, as Greta and Olivia fussed and primped her into a “little princess.” Only Nast and Sandford joined us for dinner, both in tuxes. I didn’t recognize half of what I ate.

Afterward, Nast presented Savannah with a family crest ring. Then he gave me an amulet, a gesture that clearly pleased Savannah, which was, I’m sure, the intent. It was a pretty piece, but nonmagical, probably something he’d grabbed at an antique jewelry store that afternoon in Boston.

Next everyone else in the house, from Sandford to the witches to the half-demon guards to the shaman cook, filed through with gifts. Once, in a museum, I saw a mural depicting an ancient pharaoh sitting in his throne as a parade of foreign dignitaries presented him with exotic offerings. That’s what this looked like. And, like any normal thirteen-year-old girl, Savannah lapped it up.

After dinner, we retired to our room. It was only eight-thirty, but we couldn’t keep our eyes open.

“Did you see what Greta gave me?” She pulled an amethyst-encrusted silver ritual dagger from the pile by her bed. “A new athame. Isn’t it great? I bet it was expensive.”

“Very.”

“Can I see the amulet Kristof gave you?”

Nast had asked Savannah to call him by his given name, until she felt ready for something more indicative of their relationship. A wise move, I had to admit.

I passed Savannah the necklace.

“Cool. Bet it’s an antique.”

“I’m sure it is.”

“It was nice of him, don’t you think? To get you something?”

I nodded.

Savannah yawned and stretched back on the bed. “I’m so tired.” She lifted her head to look at me. “Do you think they put something in our cocoa?”