For Death ▸ A Discovery of Witches

seven ─ lavender and oranges.

CHAPTER SEVEN, LAVENDER AND ORANGES.

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            THE FIRST DAYS OF NOVEMBER were rather uneventful. For the first week or so, Daisy did little else but rest in her spare time after celebrating All Hallows' Eve with her coven. She read (finished Diana Bishop's book, in fact), she cleaned (rearranged her furniture a little), she asked for clarity (and received the same answer as every time before; she was almost tempted to stop asking)—a few days to recuperate and take care of herself after all that had happened since the autumnal equinox was what she needed.

            There had been no word on Diana Bishop or Matthew Clairmont in weeks. No one had seen or spoken to them that she knew of, and according to the witches who were still staking out the Bodleian Library for the Book of Life, neither of them had been seen. It was as if they had completely vanished. And they weren't the only ones, for Daisy hadn't even heard anything from Peter Knox in any regard; he hadn't messaged her once since he implied there was a spot on the Congregation for her. On one hand, she was grateful to not get any messages from him at all. On the other hand, what did his sudden radio silence mean? Did it mean Diana and Matthew were now in the hands of the Congregation or had they escaped again and he just didn't want to admit yet another failure of his? Or maybe, and this was her favorite theory of all, he had finally decided to leave her alone.

            Unfortunately, the same could not be said of her mother. Alice messaged her three days into the month to ask if Daisy would come 'round for dinner that night, which was an absolutely horrible offer and Daisy responded with a claim of being busy (not necessarily a lie, because she spent that night reorganizing her closet so that her winter clothes were easier to access). So Alice messaged her again the next day, and the next day, and then texts turned to phone calls and insistence that she come over and have dinner with her mother.

            Then Sylvia got involved, thanks to Alice Mercer and the emotional manipulation she was so good at, and that brought Daisy to now, standing outside her childhood home at seven o'clock. This was the last place she wanted to be on a good day. Being convinced to have dinner with her mother by her coven's leader made this a bad day. But she liked Sylvia a hell of a lot more than she liked her mother, and one night wouldn't kill her. Probably.

            Daisy knocked thrice on the door and waited. Half a minute passed. Then the warm amber lighting inside the house spilled out onto the street, and Daisy greeted plainly, "Mother."

            "Marguerite. Please, come in," Alice said in return, plastering on a sweet smile. There it was again, that dreaded first name that she absolutely hated. There was a reason she, at only five years of age, told everyone she knew she wanted to be called Daisy instead. The way her mother said her birth name, like someone who wanted something but would do nothing for her in return, was a big part of that. Only two people still called her Marguerite: Alice and Peter Knox. "I'd begun to think you were ignoring my invitation."