Page 51 of Monsters' Manor

“You’ll be with Renwick on Samhain night. Performing in the Parlor.”

My head snaps up where I’m sitting on my front porch, enjoying a few minutes of afternoon sunshine with a book three days before Samhain.

Odelia’s standing there, arms crossed over her chest and a stern expression on her face, looking like she’s ready to fight back against whatever protests I’m going to make.

Which, I mean, isn’t necessarily wrong of her. But still irritating that she knows exactly how I’m going to respond.

“What? You’re fine with me barbecuing your guests?”

Odelia snorts. “By the way Renwick tells it, that doesn’t seem to be much of a concern.”

Ren is still reporting to her? Pushing aside my curiosity over what he’s been saying about me, I shake my head.

“I mean, yeah, I’ve gotten a lot better at controlling the flames, but—”

“Fantastic. Then you and Renwick should do spectacularly together.”

For a few long moments, all I can do is gape at her. What she’s suggesting is… insane. Truly. It makes a lick of fear curl up my spine, right alongside a matching lick of anger.

“I am absolutely not going to—”

“This is part of my terms, Rosemary,” she interrupts me again. “If you’re going to stay here, to be a part of all this, you need to push yourself a little more.”

“Push myself? Like I haven’t already been—”

“What you and Renwick have been doing is magick with training wheels. It’s time to challenge yourself.”

I swear to the Goddess and spirit and whatever other deities might be watching, if this cantankerous old witch interrupts me one more time—

“So you’ll be with him on Samhain. In the Parlor. I’d suggest you get as much practice between now and then as you can.”

Ren and I have already been practicing in the Parlor, and we’ve even been running through a few ideas that might be cool for the show. Next year’s show. When I’m not still so new to my power, when I’ve had some more time to train it.

Well, if I’m still here next year, anyway.

“I’m not ready.”

Even though the words come out weak and pathetic, they’re nothing but the truth. I’m not ready, not strong enough.

“You’re ready.”

For a few moments, Odelia and I stare each other down. Two pairs of identical dark eyes. Two Bramwell wills clashing against each other.

“And if I charbroil an unsuspecting guest?”

“You won’t.”

Where she’s getting all of this certainty from, I don’t know. Wherever it is, though, what I wouldn’t give to be able to draw on a little of it as well.

I open my mouth to argue some more, but Odelia beats me to the punch.

“I’ll inform Renwick. And I look forward to seeing what kind of magick the two of you can make on Samhain.”

With that, she turns on her heel and walks away, leaving me staring after her.

16

My stomach is in knots as Samhain evening falls.

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