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The question was, how much could I ask without making her suspicious?
49
“Aunt Dellie,” I said as we drove home, “Why didn’t my mom ever tell me about any of this? For that matter, why didn’t you before you brought me here? I was kind of lost at first, finding out that witches and vampires and were dragons and fairies really exist. I mean, it was super disorienting until I got used to the idea.”
“Oh dear, I’m really sorry about that, Meggie,” she said, casting a glance at me as she navigated the dusty road through the orange grove. “It’s just that I knew you’d been raised outside the magical world and with no knowledge of it—that was the way your mother wanted it and she made me promise not to tell you anything. So…” She shrugged. “I kind of had to throw you into the deep end. I’m sorry.”
“What? Why wouldn’t my mom want me to know about Nocturne Academy and everything else?” I asked, confused.
“Well…” Aunt Dellie looked troubled. “It’s kind of a long story. Maybe I should tell you over supper—I made a homemade vegetable and barley stew. It’s been simmering on the stove all day.”
“Sounds delicious,” I said and meant it. After eating the food served to the Norms all week, I was ready for some home cooking. Not that Avery’s roasted meals weren’t wonderful, but I was craving something that wasn’t cooked on a spit for a change.
We got home to Aunt Dellie’s big, ramshackle house which was, nonetheless, surrounded by a riot of flowers and a big vegetable garden—my aunt might be a Null but she had a green thumb for sure. Since I had nothing to unpack and was really hungry, (lunch had been another weird casserole made of broccoli and pinto beans and shredded barbeque chicken with the ubiquitous orange-crayon cheese melted on top) we settled right down to dinner.
“Now, here you go,” Aunt Dellie said, placing a large blue bowl filled to the brim with a hearty vegetable stew and a plate with a thick slice of homemade cornbread in front of me. “Eat up and we’ll talk while you do.”
My stomach was rumbling so I dug in, savoring the many fresh vegetables my aunt had no doubt picked from her own garden swimming in a thick tomato broth. The cornbread was delicious too—crumbly and moist and slightly sweet—it made a perfect accompaniment to the spicy stew. Aunt Dellie had also poured me a tall glass of cool, handmade lemonade which was very refreshing.
“Mmm, this is delicious. So much better than what they feed the Norms at the Academy,” I remarked between bites.
“Oh—did they have the nerve to class you as a Norm?” Aunt Dellie exclaimed, bristling. “You’re a Latimer, Meggie! I’ll go right back to that Academy and I’ll give them a piece of my mind. They’d better not—”
“It’s okay, Aunt Dellie,” I said quickly, cutting her off. “I’m not a Norm—I’m technically classed as a Null. Though…” I added carefully. “I don’t know if I am or not.” I wasn’t sure how much I wanted to tell her about my magic and how I had managed to access it—if Blood magic was so completely forbidden, she might get really upset if she learned what I had been doing.
“Oh, have you Manifested yet, Meggie? Have you Flamed up?” she asked me anxiously.
“Well, sort of,” I said and told her about shame-marking Sanchez after he’d been cruel to Kaitlyn though I didn’t tell her how I had managed it exactly.
“Oh my—that’s very strong magic!” Aunt Dellie’s gray-green eyes widened. “I knew you had it in you, Meggie—you’re just like your mother was at your age.”
“So…Mom had magic too?” I asked. “She wasn’t a Null like—” I stopped abruptly.
“Like me?” Aunt Dellie said briskly. “It’s all right, my dear—you can say it. I got over not having magic of my own a long time ago. It doesn’t really matter. Your mother, though—she had enough magic for both of us. She was more powerful than any other witch in our age group. Why, she was more powerful than many of our teachers at the Academy. It was the Latimer blood, shining through, you know.”
I shook my head, confused.
“But if she was so powerful, why didn’t she ever teach me about magic—why didn’t she tell me about our heritage?”
“Because she forgot it—all of it,” Aunt Dellie said seriously. “And before you ask me how anyone could forget something as incredible as magic and Nocturne Academy, she did it on purpose.”
“On purpose?” I said blankly. “How? How can you just make yourself forget?”
“She worked a spell,” Aunt Dellie said sadly. “A clouding spell on her memories and a binding spell on me, to keep me from telling you what you really are or reminding her of the truth. She knew, you see, that she would have a daughter—that she would have you, Meggie. But she didn’t want you to have anything to do with magic—anything at all.”
