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It seemed that I was next in line to join the Order of Caledonia, should I choose to do so, as it appeared my great-granhadonce been an active member of the Order.
“Wow, that’s a nice perk, isn’t it then? How are you doing? Are you enjoying it? I’m so proud of you, you know.” My dad’s eyes crinkled at their corners as he smiled at me, and I opened my mouth to speak and closed it again, unsure how to proceed. I realized now why Sophie had withheld information from me. When you put the truth into words, it sounded…well, it sounded crazy. Was I really supposed to tell my dad that I might be a Kitchen Witch, and the people of the castle needed me to join a magickal Order to protect the holy grail? The words died on my lips as I just stared at him.
“What’s wrong, honey? You’ve got thatdeer in headlightslook when you don’t know what to do. Do you need to come home? I’m sure your mom and I can scrape together some airfare if needed.” Worry crossed his face, and I shook my head to stop his flow of words.
“Dad, can you tell me more about Gran? I think I’m just kind of caught up in everything here at the moment. It’s so…historical. Everything has so much more backstory and history than in the States. It’s making me think about my roots, I guess. And our family.”
“That’s my girl. Don’t let your mother hear it, but you should be proud of your Scottish roots. Best people on earth.” Dad said the last part in a whisper, and I laughed, knowing my mother must be in the kitchen. He’d taken the call from the Adirondack chairs on the front porch. How I missed sitting next to him. “Listen, Lia. I did some digging on your great-gran, and I’ve found some more information. Turns out, she also was involved at MacAlpine Castle, just like I’d thought. Look.” Dad reached into his shirt pocket and took a moment unfolding a piece of printer paper. “I printed this off at work. Doesn’t she look just like you?”
I waited while he fumbled with turning the phone camera around and then gasped at the black and white image on the paper. A short, rounded woman, with curly hair barely contained in a bun, stood in front of the stove in the castle’s kitchen. She had the same cheekbones and deep-set eyes as I did, but it wasn’t the likeness, nor the fact that she was standing in the same kitchen that I now worked in that had me reacting in such a manner.
It was the book on the table in front of her.
The same book that now sat next to me on the couch.
The broonie hadn’t been trying to be difficult, though the throwing of the batter was likely unnecessary. He’d been trying to give me a gift from my very heritage. Inside me, I felt a shift, almost a visceral click, as I understood in that moment, in a way that I never otherwise could have until I came to this place, that I was home. Which meant I’d have to protect it, just like generations before me had. Broonies, ghost coos, Kelpies, and all.
“That’s pretty incredible. I can totally see how we look alike. And she was a chef as well,” I said, screenshotting the image so that I could look at it in more detail later before the camera was flipped back around.
“Aye, a Kitchen Witch, I’m told.” My dad’s forehead creased. “At first, I thought it was just a funny turn of phrase, but it really sounds like she was, well, at least at that time, considered a witch. That being said, there’s a long history of witches in Scotland, and well, a lot of places, of course. Maybe they didn’t mean actual magick, you know.”
“Based on what I’ve seen here, they probably did,” I admitted, and my father’s eyebrows shot up in surprise.
“Is that right?”
I decided to tell him about Clyde, and by the end of it, my father was wiping tears from his eyes because he was laughing so hard.
“Who would’ve thought? A ghost coo who likes to banter. Aye, that’s just the kind of thing I miss about my homeland. Did I ever tell you about the time I swore I heard a banshee crying across the loch when I was meant to be home for dinner? Och, it sent me scurrying home fast as can be,” Dad said.
“I do remember you telling me about that now,” I said, smiling at him. “I’d always thought it was just a story, but now I’m beginning to understand that Scotland has a few tricks up her sleeve.”
“She’s a wily one, she is. But she’s a country I love with all my heart. You’re lucky to be there, Pumpkin. Call me when you can. I’m hoping, if all goes well this year, that we’ll be able to swing a ticket to come visit you.”
“Oh, Dad.” My heart clenched. I’d love to see my family here, but not until I figured out this whole Kitchen Witch thing. “I’d love to have you. Let me get my feet wet, and I’ll keep you posted on how things go. Oh, anything else about Gran you can think of?”
“I’m just told she was a miracle in the kitchen. People went to her with ailments…and not just physical ones either. Matters of the heart and whatnot. Who is to say if she helped or not?” Dad glanced over his shoulder. “I gotta run, I love you.”
“Love you too.” I clicked off the call and then pulled the image of my grandmother up, zooming in to study her unwavering gaze.Did her magick run in my blood?What would that mean for me then? Cooking had always been something that I did because I loved it, but I’d also been determined to make a living from it. Was the hum I felt in my soul when I created a perfect dish actually magick? I’d always just thought it was the satisfaction from doing a good job. Or adrenaline, even. On particularly busy nights, we’d be slammed until last orders. It was those times that I would hit a rhythm, moving seamlessly from order to order, hyper-focused on performing my best. The thought that magick might have a play in my success was as fascinating as it was irksome.
Grabbing the spells book, I tucked it under my arm and left my apartment. We’d taken a break from discussions as Hilda had wanted to recruit Agnes to go through the book with me, and since I wasn’t quite ready to chance the broonie in the kitchen again, I headed downstairs, thinking maybe I would go for a walk.
“So…about that turret?”
Heat flooded me, and I couldn’t help the images that flashed to my mind. Me, gasping for breath, while Munroe buried his head between my legs, bringing me to the sharp precipice of pleasure. Ohgirl. There had to be something in the water here that had me all hot and bothered. And no, I couldn’t blame it on the whisky, as I’d refused the offers of it earlier that day.
I stopped and looked over my shoulder at where this gilded glorious hunk of a man strode to me down the hallway, his steps easy, his posture confident, and my mouth went dry. I really needed to nip this in the bud. Whatever had happened between us,twice now,my ladyparts joyfully reminded me, needed to stop. I’d thought I’d need to keep my head clear to focus on getting the restaurant up and running, but now the stakes were even higher.
“Lia! What’s this I hear you found a book?” Agnes broke the spell, popping her head around the corner. She held her hands out and waggled her fingers in glee, the same way a child would for candy. Ignoring Munroe’s turret comment, I broke eye contact and turned to hand Agnes the book.
As soon as it left my hands, I felt bereft, as though someone was taking an integral piece of me away.What an odd thing to feel. I made a note of that emotion and filed it away for further examination at another time, though at the rate I was going with new experiences and emotions, I doubted I’d have time to examine things more deeply.
Frankly, since the moment I’d arrived in Scotland, I’d done nothing butfeel. Perhaps that was strange. Had I been operating my life on autopilot, and all of a sudden, the plane was crashing, and I needed to react? Everything felt bigger, more important, more intense here. My eyes strayed to where Munroe stood by the fire, consulting with Archie over a fly he was making for his fishing. I’d gone from a routine that I’d grown comfortable with to…whatever this was. Constant surprises, new revelations, and discovering that magick was real.
I’d always prided myself on being resilient. It was in my nature to land on my feet when life, or one of my brothers, knocked me down. I couldn’t accept that, collectively, the entire town of Loren Brae was running some sort of scam to punk me, Lia Blackwood, and have a laugh at my expense. Which meant that these otherwise seemingly sensible people believed, wholeheartedly, that magick and myths were real. And I’d seen evidence with my own eyes, hadn’t I? It was time for me to accept that while I might not have all the answers in the world, I needed to trust myself to handle whatever came my way.
Broonies included.
Maybe I could befriend the little guy. Absentmindedly, I wondered if he’d drunk the cream that Munroe had left out for him. Was he hungry? I should research what they ate.Nobodyleft my kitchen hungry. It was a fact that I prided myself on. On the rare occasions that I did have any time off, I’d often cook for friends or my family. It was one of my greatest pleasures about being a chef—the ability to create my own community of people I cared about while serving them food made with love. I didn’t have a lot to give in this world, so feeding people was my love language.
