“Marcus?”
“Helen,” he said warmly. “Have you visited your neighborhood? Have you made it right?”
She swallowed. “I found it, and the presence has been vanquished. But Marcus, those kids did it themselves. They… they took all my knowledge and, you know, fixed it. Fixed the world. I….” Her voice broke. “I owe such a debt. I should find them and—”
“No,” Marcus said softly. “They’ve started on their own path and apparently taught themselves. Do they have your library? Your familiars?”
She smiled sadly, thinking of her nine furry companions. “Yes. The nine are gone, and the library….” She looked toward the destroyed house and could spot nary a page. “I think they took the library with them.” She let out a sad laugh. It had taken thirty years to build that library, rare book by rare book, estate sale by lucky find. “They earned it if they could free this area from the presence that took it over.”
“Yes,” Marcus agreed. “They did. But we need you back here, honey. You’ll make amends. Maybe not with those people specifically, but I think there will be ways you can pay the universe back.” His voice took on a sad, thready quality she could never remember it having, not after thirty years of friendship, some of those years more than friendly. “Spinner’s Drift needs you, Helen. We need you back here. I feel it. All your karma… you can pay it back here.”
“Of course,” she said softly. Marcus had taken her in two years ago, listened to her barely coherent tale of the witch’s cottage that had begun to dominate her life. Of the presence that had sucked all her animation away, all her personality, all the energy she’d once offered the world.
He’d listened, and he’d kissed her, and he’d healed her. She’d left to see if she was needed and to sell the property outright and clear up some of her finances so she could start again.
“Are you sure I shouldn’t…?” Those kids. All of them right out of college, starting their lives. They’d been so fresh-faced and optimistic. So ready to find their places in the world. What a terrible burden she’d placed on their shoulders.
“Your paths will cross again,” he said softly. “I feel it, Helen. It’s written in the starlight. But Spinner’s Drift needs you.” His voice lowered humbly, as it wouldn’t have done thirty years ago when she’d left the first time. “I need you.”
And that decided her. It was true that hedge witches and wizards tended to live astoundingly long lives, but sixty was sixty, and she was too old to take another minute for granted.
“Let me clear up my finances,” she promised. “I should be back in two weeks or so.”
“What are you going to do?” he asked.
She thought about it, about her personal library, now out in the world to do what she sensed had been so much good. “I’m going to buy a bookstore,” she said, “that also sells coffee and pastries. And has cats.” The thought of it gave her a pleasant magical buzz. Oh yes. The karma gods liked this idea.
“What will you call it?” he asked.
“I don’t know yet.” She smiled, that buzz pulsing along her skin, making her graying ponytail lift from the back of her neck with static. “But it’s going to be extraordinary.”
The Wide World
ALISTAIR QUINTERO’Svoice thundered in Scout’s ears. There was a terrific whooshing wind, a clap of thunder and white light, andshazam!
Scout was exiled from the only home he’d ever known and alone in the woods that surrounded the wizard compound, the family home he’d grown up in and had never managed to escape, even to see the surrounding area.
Until now, when he wasn’t allowed back in.
Holy Goddess, Alistair was a dick.
He suppressed a whine—he was twenty-four, godsdammit, and whining wasnotattractive—and looked around, trying to discern east from west to figure out in which direction the road was. They’d been allowed to look at maps; he wasn’tcompletelyin the dark about modern geography. But the compound was really several buildings surrounding the family mansion, with acres of land, developed and wilderness, inside the perimeter. He didn’t know any of the landmarks outside the compound, and his head ached fiercely from the portal his father had banished him out of as well.
Scout tried not to fume. He understood that most of the time, portals made a person tired anyway, but thatAlistair’sportals tended to be a lot louder and more violent than the usual.
Again. Holy Goddess, what a dick.
He took a deep breath and fought off another childish impulse—this one to cry. As he did so, he felt a thump against his ribs, coming from a pocket in his ceremonial robes, and he stiffened.
His brother, Josue, had dropped the robes off by his quarters and helped him dress, giving him emergency instructions as he did so. Scout had been too nervous to pay attention—Josue was a mother hen most days, telling the younger boys (men now!) to remember fennel in their spells to deceive deceivers or oak for strength. Telling them to remember their blue shirts to show fealty to Alistair or their red socks to show care for their mothers. But this time he’d been practically whispering, muttering things that, Scout now realized, had been instructions and warnings.
“He’s going to banish you no matter what, Scout. Be ready for it. I’ve put things in your robes that will help. Don’t forget to check the pockets. Remember—I love you, your brother Macklin loves you, and you’re not the only one to get out of this hellhole and thrive.”
Scout reached into the robes, which he realized were Josue’s. He must have given Scout his so he’d have time to put things in the pockets. In one pocket Scout found a wallet with a forged driver’s license with Scout’s picture on it and his official name: Scotland Damaris Quintero. Oh heavens, Josue had known. He’d said it.He’s going to banish you no matter what.He must have had this ready for months. There were two cards, both of them with bank account numbers and passwords taped to them, and Scout had to swallow against tears, moved by love and gratitude as he hadn’t been by fear and anger.
Five thousand dollars each. Josue, who held a job out of the compound to manage the compound’s investments, had squirreled away ten thousand dollars for Scout because he’d known. He’d known Scout wasn’t going to make it. He’d known Alistair would banish him. He’d known, and he’d silently prepared for it, and….
Scout wiped under his eyes with his palm and felt the thing in his other robe pocket buzz. He reached inside and found a cell phone, a thing he knew from books that most children knew how to use at ten but that the kids in the compound were not given. Computers they could use for their studies, but the use was closely monitored. Phones? Not necessary. Books were to be read in paper format so any adult could read it. Allowance could only be spent on approved books or magic supplies.
