turned back to the grimoire. “Get me some eyebright, please. And plug in the coffeemaker.”
I dutifully went to the ancient outlet strip and shoved the coffeemaker’s cord into it. Electricity leaped from the socket in orange and blue arcs. I jumped back.
“You need a surge protector—preferably one bought in the last decade—or you’re going to burn the whole house down,” I told Sarah.
She kept muttering as she put a paper filter into the swing-out basket in the coffeemaker, followed by an extensive selection of herbs.
Since we were trapped inside the stillroom and Sarah didn’t seem to want my help, I might as well work on the words to accompany my anti-nightmare spell for the children. I went to my mother’s cabinet and found some black ink, a quill pen, and a slip of paper.
Matthew knocked on the windowpane. “Are you two all right? I smelled something burning.”
“A minor electrical problem!” I shouted, waving my quill pen in the air. Then I remembered that Matthew was a vampire and could hear me perfectly well through stone, brick, wood, and yes, single panes of glass. I lowered my voice. “Nothing to worry about.”
“Over My Head” screeched to a halt, and “You Make Loving Fun” began. Nice choice, I thought, smiling at Matthew. Who needed a deejay when you had magical radio?
“Oh, God. The house has moved on to their second album,” Sarah groaned. “I hate Rumours.”
“Where is that music coming from?” Matthew frowned.
“Mom’s old clock radio.” I pointed with the feather. “She liked Fleetwood Mac.” I glanced at my aunt, who was reciting the words to Clara Bishop’s spell with her hands clapped over her ears. “Sarah doesn’t.”
“Ah.” Matthew’s brow cleared. “I’ll leave you to it, then.” He pressed his hand against the glass in a silent gesture of farewell.
My heart filled. Loving Matthew wasn’t all I wanted to do, but he was definitely the only one for me. I wished there wasn’t a pane of glass between us so I that could tell him so.
Glass is only sand and fire. One puff of smoke later, a pile of sand lay on the windowsill. I reached through the empty square in the window frame and clasped his hand.
“Thanks for checking on us. It’s been an interesting afternoon. I have a lot to tell you.”
Matthew blinked at our twined hands.
“You make me very happy, you know.”
“I try,” he said with a shy grin.
“You succeed. Do you think Fernando could rescue Sarah?” I lowered my voice. “The house has jammed the stillroom doors and windows shut, and she’s about to blow. She’s going to need a cigarette when she gets out, and a stiff drink.”
“Fernando hasn’t rescued a woman in distress for some time, but I’m sure he remembers how,”
Matthew assured me. “Will the house let him?”
“Give it five minutes or until the music stops, whichever comes first.” I pulled free and blew him a kiss. It had rather more fire and water than usual, and enough air behind it to land with a decided smack on his cheek.
I returned to the worktable and dipped my mother’s quill pen into the ink. It smelled of blackberries and walnuts. Thanks to my experience with Elizabethan writing implements, I was able to write out the charm for Sarah’s dream pillows without a single splotch.
Mirror
Shimmers
Monsters Shake
Banish Nightmares
Until We Wake;
I blew on it gently to set the ink. Very respectable, I decided. It was much better than my spell for conjuring fire, and easy enough for children to remember. When the pods were dry and the papery covering rubbed off, I’d write the charm in tiny letters right on their silvery surface.
Eager to show my work to Sarah, I slid down from the stool. One look at her face convinced me to put it off until my aunt had had her whiskey and a smoke. She’d been hoping for decades that I’d show an interest in magic. I could wait another twenty minutes for my grade in Sleeping Charms 101.
A slight tingle behind me alerted me to a ghostly presence a moment before a hug as soft as down settled around my shoulders.
“Nice job, peanut,” whispered a familiar voice. “Excellent taste in music, too.”
When I turned my head, there was nothing except a faint smudge of green, but I didn’t need to see my father to know that he was there. “Thanks, Dad,” I said softly.
11
Matthew took the news about my mother’s proficiency with higher magic better than expected. He had long suspected that something existed between the