Read Online covencraft 04 - dry spells by margarita gakis - Free Book Online
Authors: margarita gakis
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he sat there unsure where to begin. After two minutes, Hannah broke the quiet first.
“As much as I love to be woken from a dead sleep at two in the morning, I do have a council meeting early in the morning and would like to sleep again tonight before that. Is there something I can do for you?”
“My mother is alive.”
There was a rustle on the other side of the phone and then Hannah said, “Pardon me?”
“My mother. She’s alive.”
“No. That’s… Paris, dear, are you quite all right?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, checking once more that the door to his study was closed, securely latched against any intrusive listening. “I… I’m not… Did you know how extensively my mother dealt with demon magic?”
There was more rustling and Paris heard the distinctive click of a light being switched on.
“What? Your mother… I’m sorry, could you please start again?”
Paris took a deep breath. “My mother is alive.” The words felt thick on his tongue. Hannah listened patiently as he recounted the events of the last few weeks, culminating with his mother’s appearance at Jade’s house the night before with her request for Jade.
“Did you know how involved she was, or is, with demon magic?”
“No. Perhaps,” Hannah added after a moment, “I… I knew your mother very well. At least, I thought I did. She was an extraordinary Coven Leader.” There was a pause as Hannah thought and then she continued. “I… suspected… I didn’t know anything for certain, but at times your mother seemed… distant or … distracted. Of course, being Coven Leader is a difficult task and I assumed it was the weight of the role on her shoulders. When Jade found her grimoires, your mother’s three demon grimoires,…” Hannah sighed. “I hadn’t known, but I can’t say I was surprised either.”
Her words sat heavy on him like an uncomfortable garment against his skin. “Why not?”
“Do you remember when you were eight? You were terribly ill.”
Surprised at her change in topic, Paris considered her question. “Vaguely. I was out of school for a while. I remember having to catch up.” His memories of the time were that of a child: he was in school, then he wasn’t. He remembered a stretch of time spent at home and then intangible, strange memories of the hospital: people looming over him, long corridors and conversations he didn’t understand.
“You had a terrible fever related to a flu and your mother tried several of her poultices and tinctures without avail. She took you to the hospital, but they were unable to bring your fever down. We feared for your life.”
“I didn’t know it was so serious.” Paris only remembered people moving in and out, some red gelatin he was allowed to eat and a stern doctor.
“One night, your mother asked me to stay with you. I had been counseling her to leave for a while. Take a break, a shower, get some sleep, but she would not leave your side. Finally, she relented and I thought she meant to go home and take my advice of a nap, a meal and a shower. However, she came back not two hours later and her scent… there was magic all around her but different.”
“Black licorice,” Paris murmured, thinking of the sugar-sweet, pungent smell of his mother’s demon magic.
“Yes. I’d never smelled that on her before. She was more calm than I’d seen her in days. She came back in your room and packed your bag, as if you’d already been released. You woke up within minutes and an hour later, you were checked out with no signs of fever or illness.”
He only remembered being ill and then not being ill any longer. Had he been touched by demon magic then? He wouldn’t have known the difference and even now, could not say for certain. He only knew that the scent of anise - black licorice - was only present in his mother’s craft when she worked dark magic.
“She’s been with a demon this entire time,” Paris continued. “And now she’s back to ask
“As much as I love to be woken from a dead sleep at two in the morning, I do have a council meeting early in the morning and would like to sleep again tonight before that. Is there something I can do for you?”
“My mother is alive.”
There was a rustle on the other side of the phone and then Hannah said, “Pardon me?”
“My mother. She’s alive.”
“No. That’s… Paris, dear, are you quite all right?”
He pinched the bridge of his nose, checking once more that the door to his study was closed, securely latched against any intrusive listening. “I… I’m not… Did you know how extensively my mother dealt with demon magic?”
There was more rustling and Paris heard the distinctive click of a light being switched on.
“What? Your mother… I’m sorry, could you please start again?”
Paris took a deep breath. “My mother is alive.” The words felt thick on his tongue. Hannah listened patiently as he recounted the events of the last few weeks, culminating with his mother’s appearance at Jade’s house the night before with her request for Jade.
“Did you know how involved she was, or is, with demon magic?”
“No. Perhaps,” Hannah added after a moment, “I… I knew your mother very well. At least, I thought I did. She was an extraordinary Coven Leader.” There was a pause as Hannah thought and then she continued. “I… suspected… I didn’t know anything for certain, but at times your mother seemed… distant or … distracted. Of course, being Coven Leader is a difficult task and I assumed it was the weight of the role on her shoulders. When Jade found her grimoires, your mother’s three demon grimoires,…” Hannah sighed. “I hadn’t known, but I can’t say I was surprised either.”
Her words sat heavy on him like an uncomfortable garment against his skin. “Why not?”
“Do you remember when you were eight? You were terribly ill.”
Surprised at her change in topic, Paris considered her question. “Vaguely. I was out of school for a while. I remember having to catch up.” His memories of the time were that of a child: he was in school, then he wasn’t. He remembered a stretch of time spent at home and then intangible, strange memories of the hospital: people looming over him, long corridors and conversations he didn’t understand.
“You had a terrible fever related to a flu and your mother tried several of her poultices and tinctures without avail. She took you to the hospital, but they were unable to bring your fever down. We feared for your life.”
“I didn’t know it was so serious.” Paris only remembered people moving in and out, some red gelatin he was allowed to eat and a stern doctor.
“One night, your mother asked me to stay with you. I had been counseling her to leave for a while. Take a break, a shower, get some sleep, but she would not leave your side. Finally, she relented and I thought she meant to go home and take my advice of a nap, a meal and a shower. However, she came back not two hours later and her scent… there was magic all around her but different.”
“Black licorice,” Paris murmured, thinking of the sugar-sweet, pungent smell of his mother’s demon magic.
“Yes. I’d never smelled that on her before. She was more calm than I’d seen her in days. She came back in your room and packed your bag, as if you’d already been released. You woke up within minutes and an hour later, you were checked out with no signs of fever or illness.”
He only remembered being ill and then not being ill any longer. Had he been touched by demon magic then? He wouldn’t have known the difference and even now, could not say for certain. He only knew that the scent of anise - black licorice - was only present in his mother’s craft when she worked dark magic.
“She’s been with a demon this entire time,” Paris continued. “And now she’s back to ask
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