Give Me (Wyrd and Fae #1)(30)

“I didn’t give her the ring, Cade. But it was through me that it found her.”

“Why, Moo? She doesn’t want it. Why can’t Elyse choose from the hundreds who do?”

“Why, why, why.” She poured the boiled water over the basket of leaves. “All right then. We’ll have a cup of my special tea, and I’ll tell you everything. Let me fix it for you.”

She found the milk and sugar. Moo had taught him to drink tea that way when he was a boy. He never could get with the lemon crowd. She poured out two cups and worried over the perfect blend of sugar and milk. The picture tugged at his heartstrings. He would have loved to have known his mother, of course, but Moo was the best substitute he could have asked for.

“Delicious, as usual.” He drank half the cup in a gulp.

“About five or six weeks ago when I stopped at Glimmer Cottage, I found Elyse sitting on the roof deck, staring into the woods. She wasn’t well. She asked me to make her a cup of tea, so I did. This very blend, in fact. My specialty.”

She refilled his cup, adding more sugar and milk.

“I had been thinking about my sister Beverly—your mother—and the last Handover. Thirty years, it’s been. She was beautiful, a wonderful person. Full of life. I loved her so much. I swore one day I’d get her back.”

“What are you saying, Moo? Mother died.”

“For thirty years I waited for the right moment. It came that day.”

He felt woozy. The lack of sleep was getting to him; he didn’t understand Marion.

“Elyse drank the tea and fell asleep, just as you will soon.”

What?

“I tried and tried to get that damned ring off her hand. It’s death to the wyrding woman to remove her ring. I’ll bet you didn’t know that. But my sister essentially had been dead those thirty years. I only wanted to see her one more time, talk to her before it was really too late.”

“What are you talking about?”

“For thirty years I catered to that witch living in Beverly’s body. I gave her what she was starved for, what she couldn’t get by means of enchantment: real human contact, companionship. I made her believe I was on her side.”

“Marion, you need help.”

“I finally got it off her hand. I meant to throw it into the fire, but Elyse woke up. Not Beverly. I had failed. And at all events, I’d only managed to pull off half the ring. I hadn’t destroyed her wyrding power, but I had damaged it. We made a bargain. She’d call the Handover. I’d help her find another body, and she’ll let me have Beverly back when the ring was made whole. She put a spell on the half I’d taken and told it to find Lily.”

“Lilith…”

“Now don’t blame me for that, Cade. I have no idea how Elyse knew about Lily or Lilith or whoever. But I’m going to see Beverly again, and I’m not going to let anybody ruin it, not even you.”

“Lilith.”

“I’m so sorry. I know you like her. But Lilith is the one.”

“I’ll stop her.” Did he say that or only think it?

“You can’t stop anything.”

He was so tired. He should have slept last night. His eyes crossed. Moo looked at him with a madwoman’s pity. He’d lay his head on the table, just for a few minutes, and get some rest. Then he’d go get Lilith.

Why did Moo look at him so strangely? Why hadn’t she touched her tea?





10

Heart of Lourdes



10th century Dumnos.

Elyse took the pipa up to the roof and sat on the chaise chair to tune the strings. She was adrift and lost, untethered to anything or anyone. The pipa’s music was the only thing that gave her comfort. Since that horrible night when Mother died, she and Lourdes could barely stay in the same room together. Lourdes was still furious about the ring, but it was on Elyse’s hand and nothing would change that.

Elyse hadn’t spoken of the wyrd she’d accidentally cast which rendered Lourdes unable to have children. Not that Lourdes would have believed her.

She plucked the pipa strings in no particular pattern, hypersensitive to the vibrations of the notes. She imagined them as random sound drops dancing in the air, like rain drops on a pond. Blunk, blunk, blunk. The dissonance fit her mood.

Cacophony was the best word to describe her new power, haphazard and nonsensical, random elegant success mixed with regular disaster. So far, she’d cast a few wyrds on purpose: made a shoot of new jasmine sprout into a full vine and compounded a pouch’s worth of glamour dust that produced a vivid image. She was especially proud of the glamour dust.

Some activities enhanced her ability while others confounded it. Music was a confounder. Playing the pipa made her feel better, but it messed up her wyrds. Of course, that’s when Lourdes would ask Elyse for a demonstration of her abilities, right after a session with the instrument.

She dampened the strings and listened. Someone was coming up the stairs. Not Lourdes, from the heavy sound.

“Miss, I’ve brought you a bite, and you must finish it all.”

“Must I, Meduyl?”

Upon her mistress’s death, the housemaid had promoted herself to housekeeper and brought a younger sister from home to do the particularly hard and filthy work. Elyse and Lourdes had been too grief-stricken to care, and now the arrangement had become established by routine.