Page 92 of With All My Haunted Heart

“Say ‘thank you,’ Xan. I’ve made up my mind.”

I can hear the grin in his voice when he echoes my words and bids me goodbye.

When I get back to my apartment, I scoop up Cocoa and snuggle into her fur. “Now, what do I wear to face my family?”

Chapter

Twenty-Nine

The local NACOW offices are an hour in the opposite direction of Oak Spires on a good day. I managed to get an appointment with Director Erikson for Wednesday, but last night, we got walloped with the first big snowstorm of the season, making my drive today slow and plodding.

Thankfully, my anxiety over seeing my sister had me out the door forty minutes early, so I still make it to the offices on time.

I park in the visitor section, my boots crunching over the snow as I pass the designated parking spot that used to be mine, when this was my office. Before Nanette decided I was a waste of space for more reasons than my lack of healing magic.

Yet despite the physical reminder, my mother’s voice doesn’t assault my memory.

A swell of pride washes through me. I’m not the same person I was the day my mother threw me out of the family. I’ve built a life for myself, with friends who care about me. Who like the version of me that feels authentic and true. Xander. Deanna. Even Teagan.

And though our relationship is over, I believe Elle saw me, too. That, outside the moment of her deepest grief, she cared about me more than my magic.

Despite my growing confidence, I’m glad to know I won’t run into my mother today. According to the NACOW website, Nanette is all the way across the country, presenting at some fancy conference in California.

Warm air blasts me from all sides as I step through the sliding doors into the NACOW building. The decor hasn’t changed at all in the half decade that I’ve been gone, and the familiarity of it settles some of the anxiety swirling beneath my skin. I may not fit in this place, but I understand how it works. I dressed accordingly, in one of my old suits, paired with boots that can withstand the snow and still look boardroom appropriate.

The receptionist directs me to the elevators with instructions to head to the seventh floor, where Director Erikson’s executive assistant will be waiting for me.

Fuck, it’s weird to think of my baby sister having an executive assistant. The last time I saw Flora she was a college junior. Now, at twenty-five, she’s the youngest director in NACOW’s history.

When the elevator spits me out, I’m greeted by her overeager assistant. He offers me a glass of water that I decline and directs me to the waiting area. I perch on the edge of a chair and trace calming sigils along the edge of my thigh.

This is Flora, I remind myself, not Nanette. This is the same sister who healed my cuts and bruises when we were kids. We haven’t spoken since Nanette threw me out, but that doesn’t mean that girl is gone completely.

I hope.

The moment the clock strikes the top of the hour, the office door swings open and I officially see my sister for the first time in five years. She’s grown so much since then. The unruly black hair we shared all our childhood is now cut into a sleek, straightened bob that curls against her jaw. Her suit looks tailor-made to fit her exact measurements, and the three-inch heels are definitely new.

Flora levels her dark gaze at me, the same deep brown as my own, and clasps her hands behind her back. “Ms. Ainsley. Come in.”

Her cold formality settles over my shoulders like frost, but I push myself to my feet and follow her into the large office.

The door closes behind us on its own, a bit of untraditional magic that I’m surprised NACOW allowed. Flora gestures at the chair in front of her massive desk. “Have a seat, Ms. Ainsley.”

“As you wish, Florentia.” It’s petulant to echo her formality with the use of her proper first name, but the distance between us now that we’re sitting face-to-face grates on every hurt that I’ve weathered and hidden for so long.

Flora sits rigid in her chair, something akin to pain flashing in her eyes. “What is it you expect from me? I assume this visit is about the upcoming audit in Oak Spires. You’re here for professional reasons, not personal ones. So, I’m being professional.”

“Right. And let me guess, you were doing your job when you denied the application that had my name on it?” I scoff and lean back in the chair, all pretense of professionalism gone. “Tell me you wouldn’t have given the application a stamp of approval if any other witch’s name had been on that form.”

“You don’t know the first thing about how this department works.” Flora glares at me, leaning her forearms on the massive desk. “You’ve been flouting the council’s rules this entire time. How many magical innovations have you failed to register this year? How many have you created since you founded your business?”

Shock melts some of the anger from my body. “You…you know about my business?”

“Of course I do, Pippa.” The tightness in her posture deflates. Her tone softens until she sounds like the girl I used to know. “Do you remember the woman who came to you for help with a jealous ex? It would have been about three years back.”

Confusion and an emotion I can’t name tighten my throat. “If by ‘jealous ex’ you mean one step shy of stalker, then yes.”

Flora smiles. “She was a friend of my college roommate. I’m the one who sent her your way.”