Although she was even older than Minerva, Minodaura was much larger. Beside the diminutive former caretaker of the Mudpuddle and its Arcane Archive, Minodaura looked like a giant. And although she moved more slowly, her bearing was still regal. She towered above the other witch, taking up space proudly. Zani wondered now if Minodaura’s ability to ward had somehow held off the ravages of time, for she had not shrunken at all in stature.
Suddenly, Minodaura’s polite smile faded. She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. Here came the challenge Zani had been braced for.
“It wasquitea surprise to hear about your visit and this wonderful news about your appointment from Minerva. I gather you did not find it necessary to inform your only living relatives that you were visiting?”
“I was going to get in touch.” Zani swallowed. “This trip just came up quickly, Aunt Minodaura. I, uh, wanted to see Maida and congratulate her for taking over the Mudpuddle Bookstore and Cafe.”
“Is that so?” Minodaura scanned the room suspiciously, taking in Maida and Will. She did not seem particularly impressed. But then Minodaura had never been impressed with Zani’s Ordinary roommate atthat Ordinary school,as she’d called it, and she had little use for half-Fae porters. Minodaura was staunchly opposed to any sort of magic that stepped beyond the orthodox magical boundaries of time and space.
Wait until she hears about the time slip.Zani felt her shoulders rise toward her ears at the thought of that. Will Porter gave her shoulder another squeeze. He really had his work cut out for him. She rolled her shoulders back and sat up a little straighter.
“Aren’t you going to congratulate Maida, Auntie?” Zani couldn’t stop herself from sparring. “It turns out she isn’t Ordinary after all. Never was. In fact, she is a manifester. It’s one of the rarest and most prized witch talents. We’ve certainly never had a manifester in our bloodline, have we, Auntie?” She twisted the knife and watched as Minodaura’s eyes narrowed.
“No,” Minodaura conceded. “We have not. Congratulations to you, Maida, and to you too, Minerva,” Minodaura glanced back at the other elderly witch. “It must be so wonderful for you to have a great niece who’s come home to carry on your family traditions and make you proud.”
She’d landed a solid burn with that one. Zani felt her cheeks growing hot.
“I’m sure your family traditions and agility with warding spells will come in handy for Zanfira as the new curator of the Arcane Archives.” Minerva beamed. “I cannot think of anyone more qualified. The Society chose well.”
“Hmmm. So they did.” Minodaura turned slowly, continuing to gaze around the room with narrowed eyes. She lifted a finger and wrinkled her nose as if she were about to sneeze, but no sneeze came. Just a series of sniffs as she honed her gaze in on the open chest still sitting on the coffee table. “Speaking of wards, something smells familiar. What have we here?”
She took two labored steps forward, leaned in, and waved the air toward herself like one might do when checking the aroma of a pot of soup. Suddenly, she froze, a look of shock and horror on her face.
“It couldn’t be!” Minodaura placed her hands on either side of the box. She bent her face down nearly all the way to the pillow and inhaled deeply. Almost immediately, her eyes filled with tears. “No. No. It is impossible.” She shook her head vigorously and fanned herself with one hand. “Why do I sense the bloodstone amulet of Catherine de Medici here?”
Here we go again.Zani folded her arms across her chest, bracing herself for another one of her great-aunt’s lectures. Because if there was one constant in Zani’s life, it was that whatever Minodaura could blame on the cursed bloodstone, she would blame on the stone.
Zani had spent her entire childhood being cautioned about all the things she should not, could never do because of that cursed bloodstone amulet. She’d been forced to recite obscure wards from memory on weekends and in all her free time. She’d been enrolled in the most conservative schools of protective magic, and she’d never, not even once, been allowed to swim in the Montauk sound, for fear of “sea creatures.”
This was why, by the time she was eighteen, she’d had enough. She applied for a scholarship, established by the Society for the Protection of Natural Magic, for witches who were willing to attend college at an Ordinary school. The program’s goal was to better understand Ordinary culture and establish relationships within Ordinary communities.
Somehow, she had been placed in a dorm room with Maida Westabrook. Kind, gentle, artistic Maida who’d had no idea how magical she really was. How it had pained Zani not to push her best friend toward enlightenment. How many times had she petitioned the Society to make an exception, allowing her to tell Maida the truth about the world?
But the Director had always shaken her head, saying the same thing: “All in due time, Zani. Everything must happen in due time.”
“Oh, Zani.” Minodaura’s voice choked with horror and despair and Zani felt sick to her stomach. This was the absolute opposite of what she’d wanted to accomplish with this mission. She’d foolishly hoped that returning the bloodstone would dispel the superstition and melodrama. She was sick and tired of everything—from a hangnail to hail to the death of their old cat—being blamed on that old amulet. If there was one thing Zani knew about curses, it was that they could be reversed, putting an end to the object’s power. Zani had intended to be the one to do that deed. Once and for all.
And she’d failed miserably.
Zani took a deep breath and felt Will lay his hand flat against her shoulder blade, as if to steady her. It was oddly comforting, yet she shrugged it off. She didn’t need his sympathy. And she didn’t need to be schooled by her aunt in front of her friends.
“Auntie…” Zani spoke, unsure of what exactly she was going to say or how she was going to explain her intentions. But she needn’t have spoken at all.
“You!” Minodaura pointed an accusatory finger at her niece as she rose back up to her full, imposing height. She glared furiously at Zanfira. “What have you done chasing after that stone? You couldn’t leave well enough alone. You had to seek misfortune and bring it back with you?”
“Not exactly. You’ll be happy to hear I don’t have it anymore. It vanished from the case.” Zani snarled.
“This time you have gone too far.” Minodaura was talking faster now, in a higher-pitched tone. “Thank goodness the director has finally stepped in and put an end to your foolishness! Someone needed to intervene before you brought even more shame and misfortune down upon us. Haven’t we suffered enough?”
“Is that what this is?” Zani waved the letter from the Director angrily. “Anintervention?”
“And now Minerva tells me you have been fraternizing withvampires.” Minodaura ignored the question and continued on with her diatribe. She pursed her lips and chanted “tfoo,tfoo,tfoo,” thrice before spitting into a handkerchief, as if to clear the bitter taste of the vile creature’s name from her lips.
Zani glared at Minerva, but the smaller old lady merely stepped closer to Minodaura and linked arms with her. Minerva patted Minodaura’s arm gently, comforting her. Clearly it was working, as Minodaura sniffled loudly and seemed to have taken a sudden interest in the crown molding.
When she chimed in, Minerva’s words were kinder, but equally unyielding.
“We’re all very concerned about you, Zani. Your aunt and I, and clearly the director as well, feel you might be better off putting your talents to use in the archives. After the recent attempted burglary, we’ve realized that there’s quite a bit of cataloguing that needs to happen down there. You’ll be working directly with the insurers to evaluate our ongoing coverage.”
