Page 15 of Pure Magic
“No. I’m going to get Mr. MacNab settled in Minerva’s old room.”
“I see. Glad to have you in Windsor, Mr. MacNab.” Sylvia lowers a shoulder, but when she looks at me, she stands up straight again. After a short pause, she grins. “I’ll be in here if you need me. Trina and June have taken the great mother to Esme’s shop.”
Esme, a healer, runs a small shop with curatives. Prudence surely wanted to see Esme and William’s baby more than she wished to investigate restoratives and creams.
With only one bag, Adam walks around the gathering room. Afternoon sun floods through the windows, highlighting the repaired floor. He studies the new wood where it meets the old. “What happened here?”
It’s hard to tell the tale without reliving the horrors of that night. “A demon infiltrated the Kent coven through a man I once knew. He came here last year with them in thrall and attacked. The demon had plans to alter history through access to the king. We stopped him, but there were costs, both in life and property.”
“I’m sorry.” He steps close, and his worry flushes over me.
No one ever worries for me. I’m the high priestess, and it’s my job to care for others. Unable to bear the sympathy, I call out, “Sylvia?”
She steps from the still room.
“Do you know the boarding house owned by Livy Walters?”
“I know it. Not the nicest place to stay or the nicest woman to rent from.” Sylvia wrinkles her nose and crosses her arms.
“No. I know. Can you arrange for the house to get a fresh coat of paint and find out what repairs need making? I’d like to extend our friendship to her. I feel we have neglected her and hold some responsibility for her life.” It’s more explanation than is necessary, but I refuse to be like my mother and make commands as if I’m running an army.
“Of course, high priestess. I’ll allocate funds and hire help for the tasks best done without magic. I’ll handle the rest personally.” Sylvia cocks her head but doesn’t ask for more information.
Adam says, “I would be glad to help, Miss Pelham.”
“It’s Sylvia, and I’d welcome the help if that is agreeable with the high priestess.” Sylvia keeps her expression neutral and her flirtatious nature tucked away.
Still, a wave of jealousy forces itself into my chest, and I have to push back. “I think Livy can use all the help she can get, and has an unpleasant opinion of this house that needs fixing as much as her establishment. Adam and any other witches are authorized to help.”
Sylvia steps back inside the still room. I’ve known her most of my life. She’s brimming with questions and may ask them at some point, but she’ll not question me in front of another witch. I’m grateful for that. She’s an excellent witch and a good friend.
With a nod, I lead Adam up the stairs to the far right of the gathering room. At the top of the stairs, we enter the dining hall. Two doors are to the left. One is a closet, and the other is Trina’s room. Straight ahead is the door to the kitchen, which runs at the back of the house. To the right, one door leads to a hallway with six bedrooms. Currently, Prudence and I occupy two rooms. The other coven witches live elsewhere. Often, when witches come of age, they stay for a short time, and then move out for privacy or marriage, like Minerva. June lives with Minerva and Jonah on their farm, though she comes to the coven house to learn magic almost daily.
I show Adam to the room that used to be Minerva’s. The wallpaper is cream with painted romantic scenes like a picnic and a game of pall-mall between lords and ladies. A horse race and tea make up another scene. “Feel free to redecorate as you please if you stay long.”
Looking around, he places his bag on the bottom of the wood-framed bed. A small desk stands near the door with quill and ink at the ready. Everything is neat and orderly, just as Minerva left it. As he walks back to me, the floor creeks under his weight. “This is a very nice room. I’m not offended by the painted walls. I’ll stay as long as you’ll have me, Sara Beth.”
My cheeks heat, and I curse myself for caring if he stays or goes. Pulling my shoulders back, I lift my chin and bury my emotions and desires. “The only reason I would ask you to leave, Adam, is if you lie or betray the light.”
He bows his head.
“I already know you withhold part of your story. We hardly know each other, and it is my hope trust will alter that.” I step back to the door. My instinct says run away, but I step slowly into the hall and close the door. Once I’m locked inside my own room, I sit with my head in my hands.
“Mother, I know you mistrusted men, but you were wrong about so many things. Goddess approves him being here, and I cannot help my desire to have him here.” The air shimmers, sending a tingle up my spine. My mother hears me and does not approve. She’s never spoken to me from the grave. I’ve tried on All Hallows, when the veil is thin, to speak to her. She hears me. I know she does, and I feel her constant disappointment. Even in death, she’s too stubborn to give me what I want.
A soft knock draws me out of my torment. I stand, unlock the door and open it.
Prudence smiles and walks into my room.
My bed is in the corner and is larger than the other beds in the house. It has four thick posts and is draped with heavy indigo. To the left I have a desk, and in the center of the room, a small seating area with four overstuffed chairs for private meetings.
Prudence sits. “I see our new friend passed your tests well enough to gain a room in the house.”
Sitting next to her, I shrug. “Goddess approved him, and I saw no significant dark or ill will within him. His past is still a bit foggy and worrisome. Time will tell, but who am I to go against Goddess? She says he has a purpose here.”
A soft smile pulls at the corners of Prudence’s lips. Her heavily wrinkled face hardly tells the tale of a life spanning almost two hundred years. She rarely displays magic, though I feel strong power within her. Her wisdom is vast and always gently given. In a world of chaos, she is stability. “You like him.”
“It is difficult to not like Adam MacNab. He is charming.” I shrug in my attempt to show a lack of interest.
