The Rose Witch - Chandelle LaVaun Page 0,16
time I woke the ball was starting. I hadn’t had a chance to speak to my mother or grandmother again and I desperately wanted to. I’d been too shocked earlier by learning the truth to ask about the man with the smoky black wings and demon-dog made of shadows.
The ballroom was grand, with massive chandeliers and a back wall made entirely of glass. As a child it always reminded me of the ballroom in Beauty and the Beast. It was bright light everywhere yet every time something dark moved in my peripheral vision I about had a heart attack, yet every time it was merely a man in a tuxedo. The only saving grace for the evening was that there were no paintings on the walls in here and no books to be opened.
As long as I kept my blood pressure down, that red smoke stayed inside of me. I didn’t know how everyone was so calm. So relaxed. Every fiber of my body was tense and buzzing with electricity. I felt my family’s magic in the air around me, like fingers brushing over my bare skin.
I shivered and downed the rest of my wine like I was a freshman at uni. When I lowered my glass, I gasped and jumped back. A silver serving tray floated in the air right in front of me. I blinked and stared at it, then glanced around. There were more of them floating through the party, all carrying empty glasses and plates. I frowned, then held my glass out. The tray flew over and lifted until the top hit the base of my glass. I released my grip and the tray shot off in the other direction.
Bloody hell, that’s convenient.
Is THAT what magic is supposed to be like? Is this why everyone is so damn happy? I couldn’t help but feel I was missing something. Perhaps everyone was happy they could use magic to do chores? I didn’t know and I needed to find out. I was a researcher. A historian. A bloody fellow at Oxford. Once this gala was over, I’d read every book I could find about magic…and demons. Books had always been my happy place. They’d always brought me peace. There was no reason they wouldn’t do the same now.
“Chloe,” my mother’s soft voice whispered in my ear.
I flinched, then stood up straight. “Yes, mother?”
“I know that face.” She smiled down at me with her bright red painted lips and sparkling blue eyes that matched my own. Her pale blonde hair was styled up and pinned in an elegant fashion. “You’re on a mission for answers, but tonight is not the night for that.”
I nodded and pointed to the flying trays. “Right now I want to know how the hell someone in our family learned magic this fast. Or am I that daft?”
She chuckled and shook her head. “Chloe, I was born with magic and had it my whole life until I married your father. Pippa was a talented healer, worked in an infirmary, and then gave up her magic when she married Gregory. Only those born a Lancaster were without.”
Oh. Duh. I didn’t even think of that. “Wait, did you do all of this?”
“Pippa and I did it together. Magic comes easier than you realize, once you let it in.” She pushed my long fringe to the side. “You look beautiful. Take a deep breath and try to relax. Tomorrow is for questions. Tonight is for dancing.”
I smirked. “And who might I dance with as a single woman at a family reunion?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” She pursed her lips and glanced around, then turned back to me and shrugged. “I am positive there is someone here who is barely tolerable.”
I snorted and shook my head, grinning ear to ear. That hadn’t made much sense, but I knew what she was doing. “Using lines from my favorite book is rather dirty of a game for you mother.”
“Perhaps. But it got you to smile, and as your mother that is a priority of mine.” She took my hand and pulled me off the wall, towards the dance floor. “At least stand out here, that gown is far too pretty to be wasted in the shadows.”
I looked down and admired my dress again. It was technically my mother’s but she had insisted I wear it tonight. And since we were the same size and it was stunning, I did not put up too much of a fight. The gown was form-fitting, hugging