Page 57 of A Lullaby for Witches

He gave her a look that said he didn’t believe her for one second, his hand still cupping her cheek. “Come on,” he said, standing up and helping her to her feet. “I should be getting you home.”

“I’m not a teenager, you know. I can stay out late.”

“You’re not? Well that’s good to know.” He flashed her a grin as he helped her climb back down.

When they’d made it back down to the car, he pressed her back against the car door and stole another long kiss that left her weak in the knees. Could it be this good all the time? She’d thought that she’d just needed a taste, a little glimpse of what life could be like with someone like Leo, but now she realized how good it was, and what torture it would be to have to go back to being near him but not with him. Some people liked having crushes, enjoyed flirting and the back-and-forth dance of a will-they-or-won’t-they relationship, but she was decidedly not one of them. Why waste time if your heart knew what it wanted?

“Hey, will you do me a favor?” he asked, when they’d pulled apart and she was resting her head on his chest.

With his heartbeat strong and steady under her ear and his arms loosely around her waist, she would have promised him anything. “Yeah, of course.”

“Will you promise not to try anything with Margaret at the house until I’m there?”

Surprised, she looked up and found that there was apprehension in his eyes.

“I know you can handle it,” he said quickly. “I’d just feel better if I was there in case something went wrong. Humor me?”

“Sure,” she said, more touched that he was concerned than worried that something actually might happen.

“Right,” he said, clearing his throat, as if coming out of some private thought. “Let’s get you home.”

The highway was empty when they merged on, and Leo rolled down the windows so the cool air whipped in around them. Augusta leaned her head back, closing her eyes. Was this what it felt like to get what you wanted? Was this freedom, being able to be yourself and finding that you were accepted, wanted, even?

“Leo?” she found herself asking.

He gave her a quick, sidelong glance. “Yeah?”

“I want to go fast.”

“You sure?”

She nodded. He didn’t say anything else, just smiled, and shifted gears. Soon they were flying down the highway, hands clasped over the center console, music drifting through the night.

30

Margaret

Love is the centre of all we see,

Love is the jewel that guides us true,

No matter what, love, you’ll stay with me,

No matter what, my love, I’ll stay with you.

—“The Water is Wide,” Traditional Folk Song

Here is what I know to be true: we are part of something larger, something more beautiful than we could ever comprehend. During our brief tenure on this earth, we see but only a glimpse of the world around us. But I have been denied this enlightenment, doomed to prowl this in-between place until my story is known, my earthly remains paid their proper due. I see but am not seen. I hear but am not heard. I cannot forget, yet I am not remembered.

Do not judge me. I do not wish harm on my champion, who has been so good to me and cleared away the dust from my name. But it is hard, so very hard. I am a song that ended on an unresolved chord, a story without an ending. So when I see my chance, I take it.

My little champion comes into the house, a faint smile playing at her lips as she goes about her work. Ah, but I know that smile all too well. It is the telltale sign of a heart light and in love.

She moves through the house, quiet and reverent. She cares for this place, and well she should. It is her home, too, in a sense. I let her linger in front of the place where my portrait should hang, contemplating the empty space.

I wait until she is in my stillroom. I have played little part in her discovery of her bloodline; that has been her own doing, like wiping the dust away from a mirror and seeing the reflection beneath. Now I must reach through the mirror.

It begins as a whisper. She pauses, tilting her head as if straining to hear. Come this way.

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