ELEVEN
“Ugh, I can't do this.”
I tossed an old fashioned feathered pen on the ground; it rolled next to a vial of bright blue ink. I was not, apparently, an ink witch; nor was I a witch of fire, earth, air, or any one of the other elements. I was not good with yarn or thread or other forms of stitch-witchery. I wasn't a kitchen witch, or an herbalist, a beast witch, or anything else, so far as I could tell.
“Maybe I'm not really a witch. Maybe I just kinda suck at all of this.”
“That is a terrible attitude to have,” Ms. Marquesa said shortly. I couldn't really blame her for getting snippy with me. I'd been snippy for the past month at least. I hadn't really slept well since the night my maybe-mom had shown up to surprise me. I was filling my time with training, both arcane and martial. The Tai Chi was all about muscle control and fluid movement, and dear sweet merciful gods of gaming, it made everything hurt. My arms were starting to look fantastic, though, so there was that. I hadn't been allowed to use a sword yet.
The arcane stuff was going a lot...slower.
“Yer heart just ain't in this.” Ms. Marquesa waved her hands. The herbal smoke that had gathered between her palms evaporated, taking the scent of rosemary and bay leaves with it. She looked, in my opinion, exactly how a witch ought to look. She wore layered, loose colors that might have been sheer were it not for the stacking and a few talismans around her neck with symbols that I was beginning to recognize as moon glyphs.
“Well, I don't know where it would be,” I grumped, tugging at my college sweater. I didn't look nearly as witchy. In fact, I looked like a college student in the middle of the worst round of finals she had ever known. I kinda felt that way, too. Go figure.
“Boys,” Connie said. She held out one hand and the squirrel who had come to her while the four of us; Ms. Marquesa, Connie, Jenny, and myself; had gathered at Ms. Marquesa's place to practice magic. She lived in an old three-bedroom house. It was everything that my grandma's house hadn't been, neat and organized and full of food. As Ms. Marquesa was a kitchen witch, I didn't know why I expected any less.
I shot Connie a look. It was true, but she didn't have to say it. Boys were on my mind, a lot. Ever since I started training with Wei, Dmitri and Alan had decided to step up how much attention they were giving me. It sounded great, in theory, to have the attention of three very attractive immortal dudes, but I had spent a good portion of my life not being around people a lot. It was beginning to grate on my nerves.
Jenny laughed, stretched out her legging-clad legs, and flopped backwards on a bean bag. The bright red of it brought out the gold shadow she'd smeared over her eyelids. I'd learned that she never bought anything that wasn't drug store brand or thrift store-centric, and yet she always managed to look like she'd just stepped off a runway. She never failed to impress. “I wish I had three hot vampire chicks to date.”
I wished she did, too, and I said so. She shot me a friendly smirk but I couldn't help but notice the way her eyes lingered on Connie.
I wished Connie was gay, but as far as I could tell, she wasn't interested in dating at all, no matter the gender. Or maybe she just wasn't interested in vampires, since those were the only boys I currently knew.
It had been decided that, while me learning magic was absolutely necessary, it was not necessary for me to put myself in a place where my maybe-mom might be able to visit without someone there to protect me. I'd been able to stop them from hanging around in my bedroom at night, but I hadn't been able to stop them from escorting me home from lessons. Alan would always show up a little early so that he could flirt and chat. That boy loved being the center of attention. Connie pretty much ignored him.
I mean, I had met people who didn't like romance or sex. They were few and far between, but they existed and were, for the most part, some of the coolest people I had known. Maybe Connie was one of them. I didn't know, and I didn't want to ask out of fear of being creepy, or rude. How do you say 'excuse me, but I couldn't help you not noticing the googly eyes that Jenny tosses in your direction, are you straight or just not interested in hot people' without sounding like a complete idiot? Answer: you don't.
“It sounds great,” I said with a roll of my shoulders. “It's not.”
It was getting less and less great every day. The boys, as I called them despite the fact that they were all older than me by a couple centuries each, bickered. Oh, it started over trivial things like who took whose vial of blood from the fridge, or who moved whose current hobby or work-related task from where it had been left. No one would fess up, everyone would grump, and even I could see that it was getting worse.
“You need to choose,” Jenny said gently.
“I don't love any of them.”
No one had anything to say about that. I had even really committed myself completely to this whole prophecy anyway. There was still a pretty big part of me that was sure I'd be leaving after these few months and going back to my fast food lifestyle...you know, after I learned some magic.
“Don'cha think about that now,” Ms. Marquesa's voice carried across my moody thoughts. “We are practicin'. Get yer head in this, girl, or you ain't ev'a gonna learn.”
She was right, and I knew it. I was just frustrated. I had tried what felt like everything, and nothing was clicking with me. Everyone was telling me that it was okay, some witches found their niche later than others, and that I could work on other things. But I couldn't seem to get my mind wrapped around this whole witchcraft thing unless I knew what was going on.
“I'm sorry, Ms. Marquesa,” I said honestly.
All the sternness in her face fell away and she gave me a look that said she understood. She waved a hand away and stood up. “Alright, let's eat, let's talk, and then we will try again.”
Food seemed to solve everything for Ms. Marquesa. I couldn't blame her. Food was pretty awesome. Good Ol' Pete could cook like nothing else, but it was all very fine and very elegant. I always felt like I was eating at some posh restaurant when he made food. Ms. Marquesa's cooking made me feel like I was home. She wandered over to the fridge and took out what looked to be the world's biggest piece of bacon. It was as long as a cutting board and perfectly square.
“What the heck is that?” I asked.
“Pork belly,” she said, “best comfort food there ev'a was, an' right now I think that's what'cha need. An’ it helps that pork is good for that sort of thing.”
“Comfort?” I asked, completely intrigued. I loved learning about magic and all the magical things in the world.
“A pig is an earthy animal, and Earth is...” she trailed off, giving me a sidelong glance.
“Earth is the element of wisdom, strength, learning, and home.”
“That is right from yer grandma's book,” she nodded. She pulled out a knife. The wooden handle was worn to a sheen from being handled so much, but I could still see symbols for protection, health, and comfort carved into it. She cut long deep lines in the pork. “It's good information, no lie there, but'cha gotta start looking at what Earth means to you. Add on to that definition in yer head.”
I frowned and thought long and hard about that. What did Earth, the element, mean to me, the witch? “It's where life starts. You put the seed in it and it...it all starts there. I mean, I know that science tells us that life started in the water, but us, our life started when what was in the water wanted to come on land. It was the big force of it all.”
She smiled at me. “New beginnings, new life. That's good. You oughta put that in the book.”
My eyes went wide, and she must have noticed, because she gave a great big belly laugh. “What? You thought that book was only good for readin'? Oh, honey, no. It's a grimoire; it's meant to be written in. To be edited and changed. It's yours now.”
The thought had seriously never occurred to me. Books were information, evidence, and...I dunno. It felt like some weird kind of blasphemy to write in my grandmother's book. “I...I don't...think I could do that.”
She sighed and pulled out a slew of herbs. I couldn't recognize all of their names, but I knew the first few were for happiness, the others were for inspiration. She put cloves, a fiery herb good for luck and friendship and romance, into a warm pan with some cinnamon; also good for warmth, prosperity and luck. She stirred them in the pan with a wooden spoon until the scent of it filled the room.
“Grandma, maybe she might do bettah with her own book,” Jenny suggested.
Ms. Marquesa seemed to think that over as she stirred. When the herbs had darkened and the house was smelling amazing, she poured the contents into a big mortar and pestle. She added a few more things I couldn't see and began to slowly grind everything together. “What makes you say that?”
It wasn't a challenge, or at least, it wasn't a mean one. She was curious.
“Well, she her own person. She doesn't like others telling her what she ought to be doing, she likes deciding for herself. We both know a grimoire doesn't gotta be a big fancy book. She can just get a journal down from the drug store and start using that.”
“Ain't a bad idea,” Ms. Marquesa said, nodding her head before adding oil and honey to the mixture. Oil, I knew, was about binding everything together. Honey fed energy. The moment the two hit the mix, I could feel the magic really beginning. She stirred and swayed slowly back and forth as she did it. “Ain't a bad idea a'tall.”
She poured the mix over the slab of pork and used her fingers to rub it in, then she tucked it in the oven.
“Well,” she said, turning back to us. “Why don't you just take her on down to the store and pick up a journal for her? We’ll have dinner, and then y’all can go out.”
“Out?” I'm pretty sure the three of us said it in full surround sound, choir-worthy unison.
She turned towards us, putting a hand still coated in herbs on her hip, and gave us a look worthy of the ultimate stupidity. I don't think we'd earned that look, but I was still feeling kinda lost, like she'd had half of a conversation without us.
“It's Friday night, ain't it? Don't you young people go out sometimes? All of y’all are hopeless.”
“We go out,” Jenny said.
“Going to the movies don't count if you ain't there to flirt. In my day, on Friday nights, me and all my friends would get dressed up in our best and go down to Blackburn to party.”
I couldn't picture Ms. Marquesa partying, but I also knew she didn't lie. “Blackburn?”
“There's like...three colleges around Blackburn,” Jenny explained. “The clubs are pretty much packed on the weekends, unless it's finals week. One of them is a military college, too, so...lots of uniforms.”
“Mmf,” was Connie's reply. I guess she wasn't completely immune to hotness. Maybe she just didn't like Alan. I couldn't blame her. Alan's flirting wasn't for everyone.
“It's not a terrible idea,” I admitted. I didn't do a lot of clubbing, but right now, loud music and dancing and virgin versions of alcoholic drinks sounded pretty much fantastic. Besides, aside from the super posh dates that Alan had been taking me on, I didn't get a chance to dress up for anything.
“Let's do it,” Connie said.
Jenny grinned. I could already see her thinking about working up the courage to ask Connie to dance. If she didn't, I was going to nag her until it happened. I didn't want to be pushy, but everyone was nagging at me about my romantic life. I was going to return the favor.
“Cool!”
Dinner was, without surprise, fantastic. I realized that all the herbs that Ms. Marquesa had used were attuned to the element of fire, which was all about making decisions and being passionate. Seemed like a great idea before throwing us into a club filled with college-aged kids.
I didn't know until the doorbell rang that she'd called the boys while we'd been out picking up a journal and new outfits for the night.
It was just after nightfall, and that should have been my first clue. But I was too busy staring into the bathroom mirror trying to get my make-up to match the little black dress that I had found in the thrift store. Connie was next to me; she was ignoring most of the make-up. She'd traded her jeans for...other jeans. I wasn't surprised. I had never known her to wear anything but jeans or camo. But the tank top she had picked out had some sparkle around the neckline. It showed off her super adorable freckles. Her hair was tugged back at the sides, making her unruly curls look slightly less unruly. I could see part of why Jenny liked her. She could be cute.
Jenny, like always, looked like she just got back from Milan. Her skirt was a fringe across her mahogany thighs and the loose top she wore was just sheer enough that I could see the lines of her bra. On another girl, it might have looked slutty, but she managed to make it look like grade A class. Her lips were as red as her shoes and the wide belt that she wore.
“Who is that?” I asked, trying to peek out the bathroom door.
“Guess,” Connie said, smearing lip gloss, her only make-up, on.
I frowned, and then I heard the charming laugh of one Alan Pierre Rouergue, of the House of Rouergue.
“It's not Alan's night to pick me up,” I said, even though I had sent a text to Peter to let him know that I would be hanging out with the girls this evening and that I wouldn't need an escort home. Then, I heard the tell-tale rumble of Dmitri and knew that something was wrong.
Of all the in-fighting that had been going on, what happened between Dmitri and Alan was the worst. Alan was usually to blame. He'd make some little comment about our last date, and Dmitri would glower. Alan would make another comment, and before I knew it, they were at each other’s throats. This could not be good.
“Shit,” I cursed, and stepped out of the bathroom. I was planning the tongue lashing I was about to bestow when I stopped dead halfway there. It wasn't just Alan and Dmitri; Wei was there, too, and they all looked...hot. Like, okay, they always looked good, but tonight was completely different. Usually Alan was wearing something mid-18th century, and Dmitri was always in black, and Wei liked his Chinese martial arts uniforms...but tonight, they could have been human...really hot humans.
Dmitri was wearing black slacks, sure, but the red button down shirt he wore and the open vest made his uniform of angst into sleek fashion. Alan had left the frilly shirts at home and, instead, wore tailored khaki's and a dark green collared shirt that made his sapphire eyes seem to glow. He'd even braided his hair. Wei was wearing jeans. Honest to god jeans and a simple white cotton shirt beneath a leather jacket. Were it not for his long sweep of black hair, he might have looked like a greaser from the fifties.
“Holy crap,” I said. “What are you guys doing here?”
“Ma cher, you look fantastic.” Alan's eyes swept over me in a way that I could only call hungry. I flushed.
“Thanks, but that doesn't answer my question.”
“We are here to escort you to the...parties,” Dmitri answered.
“Oh, no you aren't.” There was absolutely nothing good that could come from letting loose three hot vampires in a nightclub with a bunch of stressed out and horny college students. Add in two witches and a potential prophecy girl? No, I knew how that chapter was going to go. Not good.
“Yes.” Wei's answer was simple and did not leave a whole lot of room for argument. His golden thumbs hooked in the dark denim of his belt loops, and he fixed me with a look that said “don’t bother to argue.”
“No, you aren't.” I had never been good at listening. “This is a bad idea, a terrible idea.”
“What's going on?” Jenny came out of the bathroom, managing to make a strut in four-inch heels look smooth.
“They say they are going with us.” I motioned wildly at the vampire boy band lined up behind me.
“Oh. Cool.”
“Cool?” I asked, hardly believing what Jenny had said.
She shrugged one shoulder. “What better way to deal with idiots that we don't want to deal with than having a vampire or two in our corner? Besides, they look ready to go.”
I opened and closed my mouth several times before I managed to say, “You're serious?”
“Do you wanna stand here and argue, ma cher? Or do you wish to go?”
I grabbed my jacket off the hanger. “This is a terrible idea. I'm saying this now so that when I say 'I told you so' later, you all know what I am talking about.”