A Witch, A Glitch, and A Dog Read online

  “My kind don’t need me,” she raised her voice.

  For the first time she could remember, Aldara sensed her father’s confusion at her words. In fact, she couldn’t believe she said them. “Father, I never truly fit in with the other children. They considered me weird in a world where weird was normal. I didn’t excel in potions or divination, and I’m not especially good at herbology or healing. Not like Harold is. But enchantments, that is something I do well. But in the witching realm, it’s not that impressive.”

  “So, you want to be impressive.”

  Aldara grinned. “No father. That is your job. I just want to be needed.” She sat next to Keene. She could almost feel his mulling over her words. Maybe. Finally, she had gotten through to him.

  Looking to the backdoor, she caught a flash of Giles’s white shirt before he ducked behind the curtain. She shook her head. Stealth the man was not, and she should have known he would be spying on her.

  “What is needed is for your education to begin and to take your place as Regent Supreme when the time comes.” Keene stood, refusing to look down at her.

  She bit her lips together, holding back the words she really wanted to say. Afterall, what good would it do? Her father was born under the sign of the Taurus, and she learned long ago that once he made up his mind, he truly was bull-headed.

  He began retracing their steps back toward the house.

  Aldara trotted to keep up. She hated the silence between them. She never understood how her life choices could be anyone’s business. Especially that of the council, and yet, obviously, it was. “And what of the planning of the Gathering,” she asked as they ascended the steps.

  “It is not mandatory. However, it would be a start in mending the council’s feelings toward you.”

  “Fine,” she conceded. “We will be there within the week.”

  “We?”

  “Giles, Ismarelda and I.”

  “The diamage?”Her father asked.

  His uncanny ability to show disdain without showing disdain always amazed her. No change of vocal tone or facial expression, yet you knew how much he disapproved.

  “Yes, the diamage.”

  “No.” He continued on to the grandfather clock portal.

  “I know you don’t like Giles father, but…”

  He cut her words with the raise of a hand. “My opinion of your assistant is not important. However, the Conclave’s opinion of you is.”

  Once again Keene bent to stroke the top of Ismarelda’s head, and whisper something in her ear. If Aldara hadn’t known better she would have sworn the dog nodded at his words.

  “Aldara,” he said as he walked into the portal, allowing the distorted clock to reshape itself.

  Giles stepped from the kitchen. “You don’t look very happy.”

  “I’m not.”

  “Anything I can do to help?”

  “Actually yes, but it might sound a bit strange after all these years.”

  Giles smiled. “Nothing sounds strange where you’re concerned. What is it? Whip up a batch of your grandmother’s pink lady cookies? I think there are some screaming cherries in the cupboard.”

  “That does sound tasty, but my nerves couldn’t take hearing them scream. No. I just want a hug.”

  For a man who had spent two tours in Iraq, he looked terrified. Who knew touching her could be so frightening. “Never mind.” She began to walk away, but soon found herself spun around, and nestled close to Giles’s chest. His rather warm chest, that smelled of starch, aftershave, and all things safe and cozy.

  7

  With fevered purpose, Troilus Tallesmith scurried along the cobbled walkway to the doorway of the Almost Forgotten Tower von Bibliotec die Hexa. No one could remember the tower’s original name or its purpose, thus the name.

  Some believed it to be part of the original stronghold of Hexestadt, others that it was part of the original school. A new Bibliotec had been built leaving the tower and its dust encrusted contents behind. At present, the tower served as repository for outdated case files of the Central Confederation of Witches Grand Tribunal. Since the cases no longer needed to be referenced, no one had reason to search through the files. Soon nature reclaimed the stone and wood, engulfing it in leaves, vines and intertwined branches.

  Then, one day, it was rediscovered by a group of children who chased a fox through the brambles and into the ancient building. When the children reported their discovery, people within the community would say, “the old tower? Why I’d almost forgotten it was there” which is how it became known as The Almost Forgotten Tower.

  Even though the tower, was no longer forgotten, it wasn’t used either. Except for Troilus. The young apprentice spent many hours there combing over files and logs, looking for one book in particular—the Grimoire of Leander Storm. If he had to do research under the guise of writing a biography of Delano Darkmore, then so be it.

  Pulling his slight frame onto a stool, Troilus squinted close to the words on the page before him. His lips mouthed the words he had written the day before, helping to remind himself of where he left off and where he needed to begin. Taking pen in hand, Troilus searched for the best word to start the paragraph.

  A small pop, not unlike the sound of a firecracker, caused Troilus to jerk his crooked nose from the page. The area within a nearby archway blurred into shimmering liquid. Delano stepped through the portal which promptly swirled away.

  “Your Excellency.” Troilus scrambled to his feet in an awkward half-bow.

  “Hard at work, are we?” Delano asked, waving his hand for Troilus to straighten.

  “There is so much to cover, sir. Compiling your memoirs from your journals, and Tribunal records. There’s just so much.” Troilus looked over his shoulder to the book-laden table.

  When Delano first asked for his help in compiling and writing his memoirs, Troilus was flattered. He had no idea that a man as meticulous as Delano would have no organizational skills in the ordering or writing of his journals. When Delano dropped more than one hundred journals at his doorstep, Troilus almost fainted.

  He thumbed through journal after journal, realizing there was no order. He found a few that were numbered and dated, but that was a minute amount. To make matters worse, the books were identical in size and color. As luck would have it, Troilus had a similar situation before, and created an ordering spell to use on such occasions. Too bad the spell couldn’t point out the best parts. For that, Troilus would have to read.

  “You have lived a full life, your Excellency,” he said, trying not to sound as overwhelmed as he felt.

  “I suppose one could say that.” Delano picked up Troilus’s current work in progress, and held it toward a reluctant torch. Like a good soldier, Troilus’s pen floated at the ready above the unfinished page. “However….”

  Troilus crept forward. Peering over the top of circular rimmed glasses, he waited for Delano to expound on his previous comment.

  “Is there something afoot, Excellency?” Troilus prodded.

  Delano picked up a heavily inked page. “One might say that.”

  “Is it something I need to leave space for?” Troilus was shocked to see a small tremor turn up the corner of Delano’s lips. The action was fleeting, but he had seen it. Of that, Troilus was certain.

  “Continue as you are, Troilus. I assume you are finding these accommodations adequate?”

  Troilus bit his tongue. Somehow he felt telling the Voice of the Queen Enchantress that spending time in a chilly, dust-covered tower was wreaking havoc with his sinuses was not actually an option.

  “They are most definitely…adequate,” Troilus said as he stared up to the vaulted ceilings.

  “Good to hear.” Delano said. “Continue on. I will send for you later.”

  “Yes, your Excellency.” Troilus’s words fell into silence, as Delano vanished into nothingness.” Troilus felt his excitement shrivel.

  “Yes your Excellency,” he mumbled. “What ever you want, your E
xcellency.” He plucked his plume from the air and settled before his manuscript. For once, he would like to be involved in the making of history, not merely chronicling it once all was said and done, but such was not the life for one as he. “Now where was I?”

  Time had little meaning once Troilus began writing. Often he would forget to eat, and on occasion he had been known to forget to go to bed, and would find himself waking up with paper and ink stuck to his face. But not tonight. Tonight he made sure to flip his three hour hourglass to make sure he was home before dark. Unfortunately, once again he had fallen asleep at his desk.

  It was the beating of the drums that woke him. Slowly he raised his head, listening to the rhythmic dum, dum, durum, dum, dum, durum of hand drums softy beating over head. The room was dark, except for the small amount of moonlight filtering in through the high, arched windows.

  He blinked a few times, allowing his vision to adjust to the dimly lit room. The drumming had stopped now, and he wondered if maybe he had dreamed it. Closing the tome before him, Troilus gathered his plume and papers, stuffing them in his leather bag.

  “Welcome sisters.” Troilus stopped at the sound of the voice, looking upward toward the ceiling. Surely he was imagining this.

  “Merry meet.” The female voice echoed down the stairs.

  “And merry meet again.” A chorus of female voices followed.

  Troilus stilled. The smarter part of him said to go. That whatever was happening above him, was none of his business, and yet curiosity got the better of him.

  Swallowing hard, he started his ascent of the stone staircase. He pressed his body tight against the wall, hoping to become as invisible as possible. Where was his invisibility stone when he needed it?

  Inching his way, he made it to the top of the stairs which ended at the beginning of a hallway. Torchlight spilled from the open doorway at the end of the hall. Troilus craned his neck trying to get a better look inside the door.

  Multiple hooded figures stood around what seemed to be another kneeling with the circle.

  “Daughters of LeFay,” a woman’s voice rang out. “We are here tonight to receive the application for another into our fold. Another who, believe as we believe in keeping the purity of the witching ways.”

  “Purity of the Mother.” The group intoned.

  “She has come to us, begging entry. What say ye sisters? Is she worthy?”

  “Proof!” A single voice yelled out of the darkness.

  “Proof! Proof! Proof!” The others chanted.

  Troilus saw the shadow of a robed arm raise in a call for silence. “You have been challenged with the call for proof. What say ye?” The leader said.

  Troilus held his breath. He had heard of the Daughters of Lefay before, but according to lore, they had been disbanded years ago for crimes against the realm. He couldn’t remember why, but made a mental note to research that as soon as possible.

  “High Priestess, I accept the challenge,” a familiar voice called out.

  “You know what you must do?”

  “I do,” the initiate answered.

  “Then rise an initiate of the Daughters of Lefay. We shall return with the next full moon, and there you shall present your offering. So mote it be.”

  Troilus didn’t wait for the group to finish. With as much stealth as he could muster he slinked down the stairs and out of the Almost Forgotten tower. Taking in a deep breath of cool night air, he gathered his wits and headed for home.

  8

  Aldara did her best to side step Ismarelda, who had spent the greater part of the morning trailing after her from the closet to the bed where Aldara laid out clothes for her trip. “Marelda!” she fussed as the ball of fluff sprinted between her legs. Ismarelda stared up at her from black rimmed eyes, one blue and one brown, showing the dogs true anxiety. Aldara could tell her little companion was afraid her master was leaving and she would be left behind.

  “Come her, Marelda,” Aldara patted the bed next to her suitcase. Unsure, but obedient, the dog jumped to the directed spot. Aldara lifted the dog’s muzzle so she could look into her eyes. “You’re not going to be left here. You, me and Giles are all going to visit Grandma and Poppy.” Aldara still didn’t know how her father knew she called him that. Probably one of her sisters spilled the beans.

  Aldara continued. “You like going to see Poppy and chasing the ferrets. You remember Leggero and Scuro. The tip of Marelda’s tail flicked at the mention of the ferrets. Aldara placed a light kiss atop Marelda’s head. Now that the dog was more at ease, she hoped she would do the same.

  Aldara despised packing. Deciding what to take was a daunting task. Should it be formal, sporty, witchy, all the above? Lost in the deep recesses of her closet, Aldara hadn’t seen her mother’s image as it appeared in the dresser mirror. If it hadn’t been for Ismarelda’s barking, who knows how long she would have left her mother waiting.

  “Mother, what a wonderful surprise.” Aldara tossed an armload of clothes on the bed, burying Ismarelda beneath them.

  “Packing I see.”

  Aldara glanced at the pile of rubble behind her. “It’s so hard making up my mind on what to bring.”

  “Darling, just bring it all,” her mother said, as if packing a whole closet was a breeze.

  “I don’t think I have enough suitcases.”

  “You’re a witch, Aldara. Simply do what witches do.”

  Aldara rolled her eyes. Why hadn’t she thought of that.

  “I take it you didn’t think of that?”

  Aldara shook her head. “I’m not really thinking anything mom. I’m so nervous about planning the Gathering.”

  “That’s silly, darling. What is there to be nervous about?”

  Aldara shrugged. Whether there was a need for her to be nervous or not, the feeling was still there. “Planning The 500th Gathering is pressure enough. I mean, how am I supposed to awe and amaze a group of witches? It’s not like making a carpet fly or turning a pumpkin into a coach isn’t anything new to them.”

  “Darling, I’m sure whatever you do will be spectacular.” Aldara forced a one – sided smile. Ah, the devoted love of her mother. Too bad her father didn’t have the same.

  “You’re right, mother. It may take me a while to settle in, but I’m sure everything will be fine once we start the preparations in earnest.”

  Magnie repositioned a stray hair pin. “Of course, it will. So, I can tell your father that you and my granddog will be here tomorrow?”

  Aldara gnawed on her thumbnail, half paying attention to her mother. “Yes, ma’am,” she mumbled. “Thank you, mother.”

  “Kiss, my darling,” Magnie said as her image began to fade from view.

  Dread formed in the pit of Aldara’s stomach. She probably needed to let her mother know Giles would be joining them, but wasn’t quite sure the best way to do so. If she didn’t tell her mother, well… she didn’t really want to think about what her father might do.

  “Mother?” Aldara blurted out. It was now or never.

  Magnie’s image brightened in the mirror. “Yes?”

  “Giles will be coming with me. Can you please make sure he has a room also?”

  The color washed from Magnie’s face. Aldara was almost certain her mother had stopped breathing. She hadn’t quite known what to expect, but she didn’t expect her announcement to shock her mother into silence.

  “Mom?” she whispered.

  “Aldara, how could you? “ Magnie scolded. “You know how your father feels about mortals being at Shadowfield. Let alone coming to a Gathering.”

  “It’s not as if he has no idea who or what we are.”

  “Why would he want to come?” Magnie’s voice became eerily calm.

  “He’s my assistant. I will need his help with the Gathering.”

  “I would think he might enjoy a break from you and Ismarelda.”

  A break? Aldara hadn’t thought of that. Was that why he hadn’t wanted to go? He needed a break? A barb of sadne
ss struck Aldara’s heart. In dejection, she plopped onto the bed.

  “What’s wrong, Aldara?”

  “I never thought that he might need or want a break from me and Ismarelda.” She looked to the dog who was snoozing soundly. Only the dog’s black tipped muzzle stuck out from beneath Aldara’s clothes.

  “Does he want to come?” Magnie asked.

  Aldara thought about lying. Would it hurt to tell her mother Giles all but begged to go? Yeah, that probably wouldn’t be the best bet. Lying to Magnie Hastings was like lying to Wonder Woman when you’re wrapped in the Lasso of Truth.

  “Not really,” she confessed, and her lips tightened into a tight line. “I kind of made him.” Aldara glanced at her mom. Magnie’s hands were folded in her lap. Her head had a slight tilt to the right as she gazed disapprovingly at her daughter. “Yep. There it is,” Aldara sighed. “The look.”

  “What look would that be?”

  “You know the one. You-messed-up-now-what-are-you-going-to-do-to-fix-it look.”

  Magnie raised an eyebrow in question.

  “What?” Aldara snapped.

  “What are you going to do to mend this situation?”

  Aldara stubbed the pointed toe of her pump into the oriental rug. She didn’t want to do anything to mend the situation. She wanted Giles with her in her childhood home, Shadowfield and on Hexxegraffen Mountain. With him there, she wouldn’t feel so alone.

  “Aldara?”

  “I’ll tell him to stay home,” she mumbled.

  “Remember darling, when it comes to matters of the heart, be it witch or mortal, we shouldn’t try and bend it to our will.”

  Aldara’s head snapped upward. “I’m not casting a love spell, mother. I simply asked him to come with me,” she protested.

  “Did you coerce, force, manipulate or bribe him into joining you?”

  “Maybe.”

  “Would you say you bent his will for your own personal gain?”

  “Maybe.”