CHAPTER SEVEN, LAVENDER AND ORANGES.
☾ ☽
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."
"Can't imagine why," Daisy muttered under her breath. Going from how sharply the door closed once she was inside, she had obviously been heard. She braced herself for a remark of 'don't be snappy,' but received no such thing. So she continued. "You called Sylvia. Asked her to convince me to come to dinner tonight."
"I'm pleased to see she was able to. Especially considering you seem to be rather inconvincible of late." Alice brushed past her without a glance, but with the expectation that Daisy would follow her to the dining room. Daisy didn't. Instead she narrowly eyed her. What was she up to? "The food's starting to get cold. No matter. Sit."
The next ten or so minutes were just as cold as the season promised. Daisy didn't make much of an effort to start a conversation, but neither did Alice. Her mother asked a few simple questions with faux interest, such as how she had been and how the coven was, and Daisy answered them as short as possible with one eye on the clock the entire time, willing it to tick faster so she could leave.
Not one of Alice's questions, however, gave a clue as to why this dinner was happening. It wasn't like her to just invite her over (and call her coven's leader to practically force her to come) and not tell her why almost immediately. Alice was always forward, blunt. If she was acting like this, she wanted something. And Daisy had an idea of what that something was.
"Why did you extend this invitation, Mother?" Daisy finally questioned at some point.
Alice glanced at her from across the table. "I needed to speak with you. I thought it best to do it in a comfortable environment."
"I'm sure." Pompeii in 79 AD was a more comfortable environment than this. "Speak with me about what?"
"Diana Bishop and Matthew Clairmont."
"Right. Of course," Daisy murmured. What else would she want to speak about as of late? No witch she'd spoken to in the past month and a half had wanted to talk about anything but them. Daisy knew nothing more than anyone else did. "I don't know where the Book of Life is, I don't know why or how she was able to call it up, and they should still be in France breaking the Covenant. That's all I know."
"I know more," Alice said, and for once in her life, Daisy wanted her to keep talking. "They aren't in France anymore—at least, not this France—though they are still breaking the Covenant."
"This France?"
"Diana Bishop is a timewalker," Alice stated. There was no lie in her words. Daisy nearly dropped her knife on her lap. Timewalking? With every new thing she learned about the woman, the more Diana became something out of a mythical tale. Honestly, if Daisy couldn't keep up with it all, she wondered how Diana was handling it. "She's taken Matthew Clairmont with her into the past. Unfortunately, there are no clues yet as to when, but timewalking, as you know, isn't a common power among witches. We wouldn't be able to follow them even if we knew. So now, we just wait for them to return. Then the book will be ours."
"How do you know this?"
"Peter Knox."
Daisy leaned back in her chair. "Oh, so you've finally spoken to him then."
"Don't slouch," Alice snapped. Daisy bit back the urge to roll her eyes and straightened her posture. "We had a rather interesting conversation, actually. We spoke about you." And here they go. She expected this, of course, after her own conversation with the man two weeks ago. Still, it didn't make this any easier. "Are you turning your back on the witches?"
"No." So that's what Knox thought she was doing. He thought she was betraying her kind because she didn't want to take orders from him. God, what a dick.
"Then I do not understand your refusal to help," said her mother with a heavy sigh, setting her silverware down with a clink. "All he is asking you to do is keep an eye on Clairmont's lab. He's not asking you to trespass onto vampire territory. After what happened to Gillian Chamberlain—"
"What happened to Gillian is the exact reason why I won't do it."
"Perhaps it should be the reason you do."
Daisy almost scoffed. She was really trying to use a horrific attack on someone she knew—someone that used to be her friend—against her, to put her in the same situation that led to the attack. That said, she wasn't surprised. "If Matthew really is in the past, he won't be held responsible for what he did until he returns. There is no reason for me to risk my life just because Knox is curious about his friends. Matthew is the one they want."
Alice raised a brow. "You see no reason to know about his allies?"
Miriam Shephard's face came to mind. "Not any reason that's relevant to me."
"Really? Not even to save the witches?"
"I haven't seen any evidence that the witches need saving."
"By the time that evidence comes, it will be too late. Wouldn't you prefer to make certain now that we don't die out because of the vampires?"
How many times had Daisy had this conversation? With Gillian, with Knox, with Alice. Even with other members of the coven, the few times the Book of Life had come up, she was always on the other side of it. At least most of her coven seemed to understand her point of view even if they didn't agree; a fair amount of them were actually more interested in the first spells of the witches than what Knox planned to do with it. That she understood well. She understood the curiosity if the Book really did hold the first spells the witches ever cast and before realizing what Knox's true plans were—what her mother and her friend planned—she had wondered what the spells would be.
But now? Now she wanted the Book to stay wherever the hell it was in the Bodleian for another few centuries. Safe from Knox's hands. And given that the only person who successfully called it up was now apparently somewhere in the past, it still was safe. But that wasn't going to stop the hunt for the book. The second Diana returned, things were going to go up in flames. And what then? A war?
"You won't listen to me. I'm not you, Mother," Daisy said after a moment. Her voice wavered. It was a struggle to be able to keep speaking straight. Part of her felt like she was eight years old again, begging to be heard as the storm raged on. "I don't want any part of what Knox has planned if he gets the Book of Life."
"If Peter has the Book, he has the power to do what needs to be done. You do not," Alice said, that hint of disappointment in that fact just barely noticeable. Every time. Her mother never did fail to remind her of how average she was. "You won't have a direct hand in what's going to happen."
"So just an indirect one? Being an accomplice is just as bad as being the murderer themself."
"You refuse to see reason. I don't know why I'm surprised. I had hoped you would at least stop arguing long enough for me to present the true side of things." Alice reached for her glass of wine—an expensive white wine that Daisy hated, but was only drinking tonight because she knew she wasn't going to be offered anything else. Asking for water instead would not have gone over very well. Then again, there wasn't much that could make this dinner worse.
Alice took a long sip of her wine, eyes closed. This was the look she got when she was trying to calm herself. "All right," she said. "Then you'll do only one thing for me. Stop by Clairmont's lab just once. You don't have to go inside. All you do is stand outside for five minutes and observe what you can. Use a spell if need be. If you truly see nothing of interest, then that's that. However, if even the smallest thing seems off, you are going to tell Peter. You won't be able to lie."
It wasn't necessarily a horrible deal. Just a weak one. Five minutes outside the lab's building—there would be no way she'd see anything that would interest Peter Knox, especially if she chose the right time of day, and her mother had to have known that. The fact Alice was suggesting this, seemingly claiming it would be the end of her being pushed to fully join Knox on his quest...what was the outcome she was hoping for here? Setting her up for failure so that she would come crawling back and begging for approval? Or was this something genuine, and if she did it would it truly be the end and everything would go back to normal?
Whatever the answer, there wasn't an option to say no. Not any real one, anyway. Sylvia would just use her uncanny ability to convince people of things to get her to agree. So Daisy said, albeit reluctantly, "Fine."
Alice smiled. "Good. Then tell me, how was All Hallows' Eve?"
—
Daisy didn't return to the lab for another week. She'd made to head toward All Souls' College the morning after the dinner, just to get it over with, but didn't even make it within fifty feet of the place. Instead, she'd turned around and gone into the nearest bookshop, where she left with a sizable stack of books (including the other book written by Diana Bishop, just because she saw it on the shelf and decided it couldn't hurt). Spent the whole week reading that, and somewhere near the end of the book and in the midst of various internet searches to at least somewhat understand the subject of alchemy, she came to the realization that no matter what she did, every possible outcome was the same: going against her own mind, what she believed. Do this once, even if she sees nothing, and Knox keeps asking until there is something. Don't do it, both him and her mother stay on her ass until she does it.
It got to the point where Daisy asked Sylvia—knowing full well what she'd say—for advice on what to do. Sylvia had been wary, of course, after what happened to Gillian, but said that she would ask Knox herself to leave Daisy out of this, as there was nothing she could do that couldn't be done by anyone else in the coven. Some variety might have even drawn less suspicion from whoever remained at the lab, if anyone did. She even pointed out how odd it was that Knox seemed so insistent on Daisy being the one to do this, how he was even going as far as to contact her mother about it, though she did say this seemed less strange when Daisy informed her that apparently Knox and Alice knew each other before this Book of Life/Bishop-Clairmont mess came about.
But despite all this, Sylvia suggested that it might be better to appease Knox just this once. So, following the advice and orders of her coven leader, Daisy returned to All Souls on a lazy Sunday afternoon, hoping that it was a good time of day to avoid literally anyone who could see her. Five minutes—just five minutes, and that was that. She kept telling herself that as she paced back and forth on the pavement around the corner from the lab, trying to psych herself up to go. It took a while (about twenty minutes), but eventually the lab building was in sight.
If she was lucky, there would be no one here. Miriam Shephard would still be on holiday or wherever she was, and Daisy could just stare at her watch as the second hand ticked around until five minutes had passed and she could just turn back around. She had exchanged her morning prayers of clarity for prayers of luck that morning; there's probably no need to tell what her answer was. But another prayer to the Goddess kept echoing through her mind as she waited, tapping her foot. She checked her phone a few times, sent a quick response to an email from one of the professors helping her work for her doctorate.
The moment five minutes passed, she turned—and nearly ran into the blue-clad chest of a man standing behind her. Daisy jumped back, uttering an exclamation of surprise, but the man just gave her a charming smile. "Hello. Did I startle you?" he inquired, nothing but a curious yet strange friendliness in his voice. The chill on her skin when he looked at her confirmed that he was a vampire. Oh, good. As if she hadn't run into enough of them since autumn came. "Sorry about that. Comes with being a vampire. Quiet feet."
Daisy eyed him. He was being oddly polite—not in a purely nice way, but more in the way that he was using it to get what he wanted. Answers as to why she was here, probably, if he was affiliated with Matthew Clairmont. She awkwardly adjusted her stance. "I've never heard that one before."
"That's because I just made it up. Marcus, by the way."
The vampire held out a hand, brows raised at her. It felt like he was challenging her to do something. Yeah, definitely affiliated with Matthew. Pretty ballsy move, though, introducing himself to a witch that for all he knew intended to break into the lab or harm him or something, but then again, he probably knew she wouldn't be able to do anything without him getting a move in first. Not that she would do anything. Right now, she was wishing she'd never come.
Daisy didn't take his hand to shake it. She swallowed and introduced herself, "Daisy."
Marcus let out a light hum, pushing his hand into his pocket. "So, what is a witch doing outside my friend's lab?"
"Nothing. Sorry."
Daisy didn't utter another word as she stepped around him and headed for the exit as quickly as her feet would take her. Right, back to reading all the books she bought. That ought to keep her occupied for the next, oh, three years of her life. That was probably long enough for all this to blow over, wasn't it?
—
"I assume you're aware of the witch stalking your lab."
Miriam didn't glance up from the monitor as Marcus approached. "Blonde hair, smells of lavender and oranges?"
"So you've noticed her." Marcus came to a stop and leaned against the table across from her. It was impossible not to take notice of that particular scent. "She said her name was Daisy. I would have thought you would have already tried to scare her away. You are good at that."
"She was loitering outside the lab a few weeks ago, the same afternoon Diana summoned the witchwind," Miriam informed. She had briefly mentioned the witch's presence to Matthew when the lab had been broken into, but the scent left behind confirmed that this witch—Daisy, Marcus said—hadn't been directly involved. Miriam suspected she might have been casing the place for the real culprit. If she was stupid enough to return even after Matthew had confronted the witch who had actually done it, then that was not the case. "I told her not to return. Clearly she did not heed my warnings."
Marcus nodded. "So why haven't you gone out there to try and scare her away again? She scares easy. Ran away the second I asked her what she was doing here."
"She's harmless." After spending so much time around Diana, studying her DNA and discovering the secrets her blood held, this Daisy was almost a disappointment. The power that flowed through Daisy's veins was nothing in comparison to Diana, or Emily Mather, or even Sarah Bishop. "Surely you sensed as well that her power was average."
"What do you think she was doing out there, anyway?" Marcus said. The same question crossed Miriam's mind when she caught her scent a few minutes ago. Marcus had just gotten to her first. "If she's done it twice now. Should we be worrying about a third?"
"I'm not sure. Peter Knox probably sent her here. He must be looking for evidence of where Matthew and Diana have gone. He won't find anything here. Still, I'll add some new security measures," Miriam said. They had already done so after the break-in, but with Sophie, Nat, and their baby now under their protection, nothing was too much. "I don't think she'll make the same mistake the other witch did, but it wouldn't hurt to be more cautious."
—
The first snowfall of the season came near the end of the month, coating the stone pavements and the barren tree branches white. For Daisy, those first few flakes that fluttered down from the clouds were the most important. She'd read that in the Mercer grimoire once, an old spell from centuries past that would assure that the dark days of winter would bring beginnings instead of endings.
When she was young, she would read the forecast religiously in November waiting for the first mention of snow, and she would go out and scoop up a handful, and she would cast the spell. It never worked. Every winter was the same. No beginnings. No endings. Just the same cold year after year. But it never stopped her. Even now she went out to gather up snow, bring it back inside, and cast the spell in the hope that this year, it would be different. It was the same reason she kept lighting lavender candles in the morning. The hope something would change. That things would be better.
She cast the spell this morning. Only time will tell if she was heard.
—
Daisy spent the afternoon at the Bodleian Library, content in the company of old botany manuscripts and her playlists, and left before the sun began to set. The rest of her night was intended for cozy reading, complete with hot chocolate and soft music. A self-care night, if you will (putting aside the fact that this was how she had been spending all her nights since meeting that other vampire outside the lab—since having dinner with her mother at the beginning of the month, actually—so at this point, practically every night was a self-care night). (Oh, well.)
Before heading home, she stopped at the shop and left with a package of her favorite hot chocolate and a light bounce to her step. Honestly, having not heard from Knox in a month had been fantastic for her mental health. She didn't have to worry about anything but studying so she could finally get her doctorate, which was already enough to deal with. It was just nice being able to ignore anything that didn't directly affect her. It felt like things were finally looking up.
One block down from her flat, Daisy nearly ran into someone coming around the corner the same moment she did. To her surprise, it ended up being William. They didn't often run into each other somewhere that wasn't the pub; they had, of course, but never so close to her flat. She supposed it shouldn't surprise her so much, considering O'Malley's was nearby.
William took out one of his earbuds. "Hey. Fancy running into you here."
"Yeah, I live just down there," Daisy said, gesturing behind him. Just another minute or two and her night could officially begin, but she was willing to give up a few minutes to talk to him. He was her only real friend at this point; so many in her coven had somehow become casual acquaintances since the equinox. Besides, being around a human was refreshing. Must be nice having no idea of what had been happening in her world.
"You're kidding. I'm two blocks that way."
"Seriously?" Daisy turned to look behind her when he gestured that way. She had just passed by those buildings on her way home. They'd known each other for a year, and she'd never realized that. Would be nice to make it an actual friendship that existed outside of drinks, find out more things real friends typically know about each other. That was officially going on her New Years' resolutions, but she could start on it early. Like now. "I don't know why I'm surprised, you work at a pub that's within walking distance of my flat."
William chuckled. "Yeah, I'm just heading home to shower and get the stench of booze off me. I've got a date tonight."
"Oh, good for you. Finally asked one of those customers out, did you?"
"Yeah, figured it could be fun. Been a while since I've been out with someone."
"Well, have fun on your date. And remember, a single glass of wine doesn't hurt."
"I'll keep that in mind. See you around, Oxford."
Daisy bid him goodbye as well, expressing the same sentiments he did, and continued forward to her home just down the street. Her footfalls quickened the closer she got to the building, eager for the rest of her night to start. It had been a long day, and as much as she loved the atmosphere at the Bod, she loved the comfort home gave her—with its brightly colored decorations, the plants scattered about (one on every surface that could fit a pot), and the promise of safety—more so. This was the one place that was truly hers. There was no influence from her mother here, nothing to do with the uni other than the stuff she willingly brought here. She considered this flat the only real home she ever had.
When she got closer to her floor, Daisy reached into her pocket for her keys and had to adjust the bag with her purchases so that nothing fell out. She was still going through her keys, trying to find the right one for her door, when she came 'round the corner and caught sight of what waited for her outside the door. She stopped short in the middle of the corridor. It was as if she, not Diana, had been the one launched back into time when she saw the man raise his hand to knock on her door.
And there went any hope she had for a nice night.
"Don't take this the wrong way," Daisy began warily as she forced herself forward, despite the fact that it was the last thing she wanted to do (but what the hell else was she supposed to do? The man literally stood between her and home), "but haven't you got anything better to do than wait outside my home?"
Knox turned to her. "I prefer in-person meetings to phone calls."
"It would be polite to at least send a text so I know when to expect you, Mr. Knox," she said, though she had no faith he would actually do so. Almost a full month of radio silence and then this. At least he had the courtesy to step out of her way to let her unlock the door.
"I'll remember that." Knox made to follow her into the flat, and Daisy reluctantly let him. He was here for a reason, and the sooner that reason was known, the sooner he would leave. "I spoke with your mother, as I'm sure you already know. She told me of the deal you made with her. That you would stop by Matthew Clairmont's lab just once and observe, and report back to me. Then further deals could be made based on your observations. I thought Alice's negotiations were rather weak, if I'm honest. But she told me you agreed. So, have you done it?"
"You've come all the way to Oxford for something that could be done over a phone?" Daisy questioned, one brow raised. She didn't remind him that it had been weeks since she made that deal; she'd have thought he'd interrogate her about this sooner. All he did was stare at her, an unsettling gaze that after a moment prompted her to answer truthfully, "Yes."
"And? What did you see?"
"Nothing. There's nothing to see, which I've told you," Daisy said. Well, yes, she had met that vampire called Marcus, but she had no idea what he had to do with Matthew or Dr. Shephard—for all she knew he could be just entirely irrelevant to the situation, and that's what she was going with because she didn't want to know anything else—so it really was nothing. Not really a lie, was it? "If Diana Bishop truly is a timewalker like everyone believes, there won't be anything for you at that lab or the Bod or anywhere until she returns from whenever she's gone. And I'm sure you know that." That's when it occurred to her—he was awfully persistent on this particular matter, and he was awfully persistent it be her that played the role of spy for him. There was something he wasn't telling her. "So why are you so interested?"
Knox had a simple answer, one that wasn't necessarily a lie, but the fact he kept persevering let her know this wasn't the full truth. "Matthew Clairmont was studying witch DNA before he went with Diana to the past. He attacked your friend because she discovered this. In case you'd forgotten what happened to Gillian."
"He attacked Gillian because she trespassed on vampire territory. Not because she found out." No, she couldn't know Matthew's intentions, and she would never absolve him of blame for what he did, but she could read between the lines. Gillian was the one who made the decision to trespass on vampire territory, knowing the consequences if she were to be found out yet believing that because she left nothing behind that could link her to it, she was safe. She broke into his lab, which happened to be a crime in both the creature world and the human world. Besides, Gillian wasn't the only one Matthew confronted about the break-in. "She sent the photographs she took to me. He didn't attack me when he took them back."
"You were lucky. Aren't you curious to know why he's studying our DNA?"
"Honestly? Not really. Not anymore. I've told you, I've told my mother—I don't want any part of this. The only reason I would ever care about what Matthew Clairmont is up to is if he's being punished for nearly murdering a witch. I won't risk my life because you can't be bothered to start doing things for yourself instead of relying on others to do your dirty work. That's what got Gillian attacked—you ordering our coven to find out what Matthew was doing in Oxford. That's why she broke into the lab. Her attack is on you."
There was a flicker of fury in his eyes. "Mind your words."
She scoffed. The words came out with no thought to them until after she'd said it. "You won't listen to me anyways. Leave me alone. Stop going to my mother about me, stop showing up on my doorstep, and fuck off. Get out of my house." But she still didn't regret it. All she wanted was to be left to her own devices and for all this to end. She wanted things back the way they were. The first step to doing that was to get him to disappear from her life.
Knox eyed her. He spoke calmly, far calmer than she had, though if she looked closer, if she listened closer, she'd still see that flicker in his gaze and hear that ire in his voice. "You have your mother's anger. It'd be wise of you to consider what I've said further instead of writing it off as coming from someone who, in your words, can't be bothered to do things for myself. You have no idea what I am doing myself." He stepped closer to her. His voice lowered. "You do not want to make an enemy of me, Marguerite."
The spine she'd grown when she told him to get out vanished. She swallowed and said, hardly louder than a murmur, "Seems I already have."
"Such a surprising show of courage for one who doesn't even know her full truth. Perhaps you're more like your father than I believed."
Knox didn't say another word, only let her see a light smirk on his face when she faltered at the mention of her father. He left without any goodbye, the sound of the closing door snapping her out of the daze she had fallen in. She had already assumed he knew her father once if he'd known her mother, but the way he said it...what the hell did that mean?
—
"Twice in one month," Alice said, one hand on her door as she stared at the man on her doorstep. Really, Peter ought to learn how to use a phone if he intended to continue showing up. Or at the very least compose an email to warn her of his impending arrival. "This is more than I've seen you in thirty years."
"Through no fault of my own," Peter brazenly reminded her. Alice allowed him into her house, but cut her eyes at him all the same. Indeed, it had been her who cut off contact with him the moment her divorce was final and her ex-husband believed their daughter to be dead. She had said it would be easier for no one to find out what they did if they didn't speak to one another. Recent events meant otherwise. "Your daughter will not be cooperating with me. She used some rather colorful language to tell me so."
Alice couldn't say she was surprised to hear so. Marguerite hadn't wanted to do the right thing in the first place; it had taken so much arguing and eventually a basic agreement that she would just observe for five minutes to get her to do one simple thing. She had hoped it would finally bring her around, but she supposed that if even her friend being attacked by Clairmont couldn't do it, hardly anything would. "Did she at least uphold our deal?"
"Yes. She claims she saw nothing out of the ordinary. I believe her. However, she is still not with us." Peter faced her, that familiar look of steel and cunning written on him. "I told you to bring her back to our side. You failed."
A beat. "You won't tell her about Malcolm."
When they had spoken at the beginning of the month, he threatened that if she was unable to convince Marguerite to work with them, Marguerite would find out the truth about her father. At the time, Alice didn't think Peter would actually take that risk knowing that he, for his role in what happened, would likely lose his seat on the Congregation and all the power that came with it. She wasn't entirely certain of that now.
As if trying to worsen her nerves, Peter said nothing in response for a very long moment, only looked at her with guile. Though he did always look like that. Finally he said, "I have far too much to worry about without adding your ex-husband to it," and she could breathe again. "I still believe Marguerite could be a valuable resource. But in order for her to be, she needs to stop denying the truth. You're her mother. I hoped you would have some advice."
Advice. How wonderful. Alice knew very little of her daughter as a person—the only thing she could truly say with confidence was that Marguerite liked flowers and plants and herbs, but what witch didn't?—and raising the girl had been its own kind of hell, but she had very quickly determined the best way to get Marguerite to behave and listen.
"Marguerite has always been a simple child. Stubborn at times, of course, but when that happens, you need to wear her down. Keep pushing. Don't let her colorful language dissuade you. Eventually, she'll realize what she's done is wrong and she'll come running back for forgiveness. You'll give it to her. Then she'll do what you ask."
It was tried-and-true. Alice had used this particular strategy on Marguerite many times over the years and though it usually took months before there was any progress, it all paid off eventually. Unfortunately, it got more difficult once she left for university, took more persistence on her part, but it still worked if she waited long enough. In fact, ever since the autumnal equinox, she had been pursuing it again to get answers and convince her to work with Peter and the witches. Just a little bit longer and Marguerite would, as she just said, come running back for forgiveness.
Peter nodded. "Perhaps we should both use this strategy of yours. You as her mother, myself as a Congregation representative."
Alice didn't bother pointing out that she'd already started. "Pushing her from both fronts. It's not the worst idea you've had."
"Thank you for the advice, Alice. I'll be in touch."
When she turned, her gaze caught the urn on the shelf.
There were some witch families that were well-known in their communities. Stories of old power that disappeared with each passing generation, but sometimes, it would show itself in just one person in the bloodline. The Mercers in England were one of them. Her grandmother had the power. The McNivens in Scotland were another. Her ex-husband's great-grandmother had that power. The Bishops in the United States, she was less familiar with (aside from the fact they were descended from a witch who died in Salem), but she did remember meeting one peculiarly powerful witch with that name.
She hadn't realized immediately who the witch that called up the Book of Life some months ago was. It had taken her even longer to realize the connection between Diana, the Bishop witch she'd met more than three decades ago, and the man now heading for the door to leave the house. It hadn't even occurred to her until she'd actually seen him in front of her a month ago.
"I remember the witch's mother," Alice said, drawing him back in as she tore her gaze from the urn. She wasn't going to let him leave without answering this question. She had wondered this for a month. She wouldn't wonder any longer. "You introduced me to Rebecca Bishop, just once. She was powerful. As is her daughter. And yet you missed it when you tested Diana."
Peter raised a brow. "What is your point?"
"Could Marguerite have power? When you tested her, could you have missed a great power in her veins?"
"Diana was spellbound," Peter said. Alice blinked. Only witches who had hurt people, gone mad with power, were spellbound. "Her own parents did it, to hide how powerful she was. That is why I did not realize it at the time. Marguerite is not spellbound. She's weak."
All hope vanished from within her. "She's practically human."
"Yes. But she is still a witch."