Alyse James
Bayard served everyone tea, and then seated himself beside his brother. Alyse sat across from Bernard, at Chantal's right hand. Alyse sipped her tea and waited with hard-won patience for her grandmother to begin her tale.
Chantal tasted her tea then set the white porcelain cup on the saucer before she raised her eyes and looked at Alyse. “This tale begins before your birth, so I shall start there. When your grandfather and I were first married, we lived in Boston. We owned a small print shop, and provided patriotic pamphlets and what news we could gather during the second war with Great Britain.”
Alyse shifted with impatience, and then stilled as Chantal narrowed her eyes with displeasure.
“Eager to assist with the war effort, we pledged ourselves to a local coven and directed our energies to aid our troops. At this time, a young woman who was part of the coven became quite ill. Her family brought a physician to her bedside, but he gave them no hope. Healing spells did not restore her health. No matter what we tried, the girl continued to weaken.
“Toward the end, she suffered dreadful trembling fits. The coven gathered to ease her passing as best we could. There were six members present when she spoke her last words—The Prophecy—and then perished.”
“What prophecy?” Alyse urged when her grandmother paused.
Chantal shook her head. “I'm not sure I can recite her exact words.” Chantal's gaze met and held Alyse's. “At the time, I thought I'd never forget. She foretold the birth of powerful twins.” Chantal closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Let's me see, how did it go?
“You will know them by their birth—crowned beneath a full moon on the witches’ High Sabbat. Their twyne shall wake the Demon. By Fire and Earth, he shall by felled—lest the twyne fail—then death shall reign.” Chantal's cup rattled against its saucer as she lifted it. “Or something very similar.”
No one spoke for several moments.
Alyse took another sip, but found it hard to swallow; her throat had grown so tight. She glanced from her teacup to her uncles.
Bayard stared at the table, while Bernard met her gaze with a serious expression in his dark eyes. Their balding scalps, fringed with brown-gray trimmed hair—identical.
Chantal cleared her throat. “Twelve years later, I became pregnant with twins—your uncles. As you can imagine, your grandfather and I were terrified. Thank the Goddess, I gave birth to my boys just past midsummer, beneath a crescent moon. Six years later, I gave birth to your mother and we set thoughts of the terrifying prophecy aside.
“Your grandfather passed in '41. Margaret married her merchant in '45, wasn’t it?” Chantal looked to Bay and Bern who shook their heads and shrugged.
Chantal turned back to Alyse. “When your mother became pregnant we were overjoyed. But as the pregnancy progressed, it became clear she carried twins, and would give birth near Samhain.”
“I was born on Samhain,” Alyse stated.
“Yes, you were.” Chantal's hazel eyes held old sorrow and memories. “Beneath the light of a full moon.”
“And you separated us because—”
“—because were you to twyne as children, you would have called the Demon. Even with four adult witches to protect you, it would not have been enough. Our spells at that time were limited in power—gentle spells to encourage health and healing, abundant crops, and potions of affection. We rarely dabbled with our deep elemental power, and took great care to hide our true nature from the eyes of men.
“After your birth, our path changed. Your uncles and I turned our minds to offensive and defensive spellcraft—deadly spells which others of our kind would find abhorrent. Still, the power you share with your sister—when you twyne—is what will be needed to defeat the Demon.”
“You've been training me,” Alyse whispered. Her gaze passed around the table.
“As best we can.” Uncle Bay raised his gaze to hers. “We don't have your disability, of course.”
Bernard elbowed his brother. “Ah, hush, Bay. We don't have her power, either.”
“Without Air and Earth, the girl has serious limitations,” Bayard argued.
“I need my sister,” Alyse acknowledged, and the room grew quiet once again.
“You need your sister,” Chantal repeated. “Did you twyne with her today?”
Alyse nodded. “She didn't understand what was happening. I knew because you had taught me about it.” She looked at Bay and Bern. “I frightened her. She didn't know me.”
“The only one to teach Amylia would have been your mother, Margaret, and she keeps her talents hidden from her husband. Whatever Amylia knows, she learned in secret and practiced alone.” Chantal laid her hand on Alyse's arm.
“I have to go to her.” Alyse turned to her grandmother. “I promised to find her. Is she in Boston with my—with my mother?” Unexpected tears welled in Alyse's eyes. She blinked rapidly and turned her face away from Chantal.
“As far as I know, she's still there. I've not seen your mother since the night we left with you.”
“The night of my birth?” Alyse swallowed and blinked at the tears, pushing them from her eyes.
“The moment of your birth,” Chantal corrected, and patted her arm. “We had a wet nurse and carriage hidden down the street. You see, Bay and Bern twyned at 18 months, maybe earlier. We couldn't risk that possibility.”
“And my parents—they agreed to this?” Alyse turned and searched her grandmother's eyes. Their explanations were sound, but her heart ached for a mother she'd never known.
“When it became apparent her children would be born on Samhain, during the full moon, and drastic measures would need to be taken to keep you both safe, Margaret's heart broke.” Chantal picked up her napkin and held it to her nose. She cleared her throat and opened calm eyes.
“The closer she came to your birth, the more Margaret cried. Your father had no idea how devastated we all were. He believed Margaret's tears were a result of her pregnancy, and nothing more.
“The night of your birth, I delivered you, and your mother held you for only a few minutes—until her labor began again. Then, you were bundled up and given to the wet nurse. You, Bayard and the wet nurse set out for this farm immediately.” Chantal paused and then added, “Your mother named you Alyse. She thought it the most beautiful name she'd ever heard.”
Alyse’s throat closed and she shook her head, fighting back the tears.
A mother and sister I’ve never known.
In the end, she gave up and put her head down on the table and sobbed.
Her grandmother’s hand smoothed her hair. “It had to be done, dear one. It broke everyone's heart. And now, you need to be strong and find your sister. You're being hunted.”
Alyse's head came up, her eyes red from weeping, and stared at her grandmother. “Hunted?”
“Yes child. The Prophecy. The reason you were separated. The moment you twyned with your sister, it set off a chain of events. I have no doubt the Demon is coming, just as I have no doubt you and your sister will face him and defeat him.”
“By Fire and Earth.” Alyse wiped her face and sat up.
Chantal nodded. “Just so. Now, it’s late and I think we should all get some rest. Tomorrow, Bay will need to advise the Chesham's their order will be delayed—indefinitely. Allow them to cancel and go elsewhere if they can't wait until you return.”
Bay's brow furrowed as his gaze turned to his mother. “What do you mean?”
“From where?” Bern added.
“When you return from teaching your nieces how to cast as a working pair. Some twyning exercises will be in order as well, I presume. Who better to teach them how to fight together? Besides, we can't send Alyse off to find Amylia by herself.”
“She thinks of herself as Amy,” Alyse whispered and turned tear-filled eyes to her grandmother. “Won't you come with us, Mémé?”
“Ah, now dear one, I shall not. I will only slow you down. I'll stay here and wait for your return. I do look forward to meeting your sister.”