Dime Store Magic
Page 98
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 late.
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 this 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?"
I wanted to shout, "Yes! Don't you see? Don't you seeeverything? The gifts, the party, it's all a sham." Yet the truth was that I wasn't so sure of that myself. Yes, it was over the top. And patently unfair, since I could never compete. But was it a sham? I didn't know, so I settled for answering Savannah's question as honestly as I could.
"I think they probably gave us something to help us sleep," I said. "It doesn't feel any stronger than a sleeping potion. Probably valerian root, judging by the aftertaste."
"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going to bed. Greta said she has a surprise for me tomorrow. A really good surprise."
"I'm sure she does," I said.
Someone knocked at the door. When I called a welcome, Olivia popped her head in.
"Paige? Mr. Nast would like to speak to you."
Savannah moaned. "Can't it wait until morning? I'm so tired."
"He only wants to speak to Paige, dear. I'll stay and keep you company while she's gone."
Savannah sat up. "I want to go with Paige."
Olivia shook her head. "Your father was very clear. Paige only."
"But-"
"I'll be fine," I said.
"Of course she will," Olivia said. "Nothing's going to happen to her, Savannah. Your father understands how much you've come to rely on her." She turned to me. "Mr. Nast is in the living room."
I nodded and left.
No one escorted me downstairs. I passed Friesen and another half-demon guard, whom I'd only heard called Anton. Both cast subtle glances my way, but gave no sign that they were watching me. I knew they were, though.
Despite my intent to stay with Savannah, I'll admit to an inkling of temptation as I passed the front door. Earlier I hadn't thought of running. Now, though, as I neared the living room, I had to ask myself what Nast wanted.
I knew Nast had no intention of taking me back to Los Angeles. So long as I was alive, I'd be a threat. A minor one, but a threat nonetheless. Once I'd served my purpose, he'd have me killed. The only question was: When?
As I passed the door, I wondered whether I'd already outlived my usefulness. I hesitated, but only for a second. Nast's hold on Savannah wasn't strong enough to risk incurring her wrath. I had a few more days at least. Enough time to come up with a plan.
When I pushed open the living room door, Nast was inside, laughing as Sandford relayed an anecdote about a shaman.
"Paige, come in," Nast said. "Have a seat."
I did.
"Would you like a drink? Port? Claret? Brandy?"
"Claret would be fine. Thank you."
Sandford's brows arched, as if surprised I'd accept a drink. I had to trust in my conviction that they wouldn't kill me yet, and behave as if I trusted them.
"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 late.
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 this 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?"
I wanted to shout, "Yes! Don't you see? Don't you seeeverything? The gifts, the party, it's all a sham." Yet the truth was that I wasn't so sure of that myself. Yes, it was over the top. And patently unfair, since I could never compete. But was it a sham? I didn't know, so I settled for answering Savannah's question as honestly as I could.
"I think they probably gave us something to help us sleep," I said. "It doesn't feel any stronger than a sleeping potion. Probably valerian root, judging by the aftertaste."
"Well, I don't know about you, but I'm going to bed. Greta said she has a surprise for me tomorrow. A really good surprise."
"I'm sure she does," I said.
Someone knocked at the door. When I called a welcome, Olivia popped her head in.
"Paige? Mr. Nast would like to speak to you."
Savannah moaned. "Can't it wait until morning? I'm so tired."
"He only wants to speak to Paige, dear. I'll stay and keep you company while she's gone."
Savannah sat up. "I want to go with Paige."
Olivia shook her head. "Your father was very clear. Paige only."
"But-"
"I'll be fine," I said.
"Of course she will," Olivia said. "Nothing's going to happen to her, Savannah. Your father understands how much you've come to rely on her." She turned to me. "Mr. Nast is in the living room."
I nodded and left.
No one escorted me downstairs. I passed Friesen and another half-demon guard, whom I'd only heard called Anton. Both cast subtle glances my way, but gave no sign that they were watching me. I knew they were, though.
Despite my intent to stay with Savannah, I'll admit to an inkling of temptation as I passed the front door. Earlier I hadn't thought of running. Now, though, as I neared the living room, I had to ask myself what Nast wanted.
I knew Nast had no intention of taking me back to Los Angeles. So long as I was alive, I'd be a threat. A minor one, but a threat nonetheless. Once I'd served my purpose, he'd have me killed. The only question was: When?
As I passed the door, I wondered whether I'd already outlived my usefulness. I hesitated, but only for a second. Nast's hold on Savannah wasn't strong enough to risk incurring her wrath. I had a few more days at least. Enough time to come up with a plan.
When I pushed open the living room door, Nast was inside, laughing as Sandford relayed an anecdote about a shaman.
"Paige, come in," Nast said. "Have a seat."
I did.
"Would you like a drink? Port? Claret? Brandy?"
"Claret would be fine. Thank you."
Sandford's brows arched, as if surprised I'd accept a drink. I had to trust in my conviction that they wouldn't kill me yet, and behave as if I trusted them.
