right mixture of sadness, commiseration, and support. Wendy Aiken did most of the talking. While she did, her younger sister Julie’s eyes darted to where Savannah, my thirteen-year-old ward, perched on the bed. I caught the looks Julie shot her, distaste mingled with fear. A black witch’s daughter, in their hotel room.
As Wendy’s lips moved in rehearsed platitudes, her gaze slipped past me to the clock. I knew then that I would fail…again. But I gave my spiel anyway. I told them my vision of a new Coven for the technological age, linked by sisterhood instead of proximity, each witch living where she chooses, but with a full Coven support system only a phone call or e-mail away.
When I finished, the sisters looked at each another.
I continued. “As I mentioned, there’s also the grimoires. Third-level spells, lost for generations. I have them and I want to share them, to return witches to their former glory.”
To me, these books were my trump card. Even if you didn’t give a damn about sisterhood or support, surely you’d want this power. What witch wouldn’t? Yet, as I looked at Wendy and Julie, I saw my words wash right over them, as if I was offering a free set of steak knives with the purchase of a complete living-room suite.
“You’re a very compelling saleswoman,” Wendy said with a smile.
“But…” Savannah muttered from the bed.
“But we must admit, we have a problem with the…present company you keep.”
Julie’s gaze slid toward Savannah. I tensed, ready to leap to her defense.
“That Cortez boy,” Wendy said. “Well, young man, I should say. Yes, I know he’s not involved with his family’s Cabal, but we all know how things like that turn out. Youthful rebellion is all very well, but it doesn’t pay the bills. And I hear he’s not very successful in that regard.”
“Lucas—”
“He’s still young, I know, and he does a lot of pro bono work. That’s very noble, Paige. I can see how a young woman would find it romantic—”
“But,” Julie cut in, “like Wendy says, it doesn’t pay the bills. And he is a Cortez.”
Wendy nodded. “Yes, he is a Cortez.”
“Hey,” Savannah said, standing. “I have a question.” She stepped toward the sisters. Julie shrank back. “When’s the last time you saved a witch from being murdered by Cabal goons? Lucas did that just last month.”
“Savannah…” I said.
She stepped closer to the two women. “What about defending a shaman set up by a Cabal? That’s what Lucas is doing now. Oh, and Paige does charity work, too. In fact, she’s doing it right now, offering two-faced bitches like you a spot in her Coven.”
“Savannah!”
“I’ll be in the hall,” she said. “Something in here stinks.”
She wheeled and marched out of the hotel room.
“My god,” Wendy said. “She is her mother’s daughter.”
“And thank God for that,” I said, and left.
As I drove out of the city core, Savannah broke the silence.
“I heard what you said. It was a good comeback.”
The words “even if you didn’t mean it” hung between us. I nodded and busied myself scanning traffic. I was still working on understanding Savannah’s mother, Eve. It wasn’t easy. My whole being rebelled at the thought of empathizing with a dark witch. But, even if I could never think of Eve as someone I could admire, I’d come to accept that she’d been a good mother. The proof of that was beside me. A thoroughly evil woman couldn’t have produced a daughter like Savannah.
“You know I was right,” she said. “About them. They’re just like the Coven. You deserve—”
“Don’t,” I said quietly. “Please.”
She looked at me. I could feel her gaze, but didn’t turn. After a moment, she shifted to stare out the window.
I was in a funk, as my mother would have said. Feeling sorry for myself and knowing there was no good reason for it. I should be happy—ecstatic even. Sure my life had taken a nasty turn four months ago—if one can call “the end of life as I knew it” a nasty turn—but I’d survived. I was young. I was healthy. I was in love. Damn it, I should be happy. And when I wasn’t, that only added guilt to my blues, and left me berating myself for acting like a spoiled, selfish brat.
I was bored. The Web site design work that had once fired a passion in me now piled up on the desk—drudgery I had to complete if anyone in our house intended to eat. Did I say house? I meant