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CHAPTER THIRTEEN

J ust as Rath had promised, my groceries were waiting on the front porch. So was Sebastian for that matter. He mewed inquiringly as I opened the front door.

“I know I took a little longer than I thought,” I told him. “But I met some really interesting people. And one of them happens to be the Orc that chased us yesterday,” I added, not wanting him to be surprised when Rath showed up with the cinnamon.

Sebastian made a hissing sound and arched his back, clearly showing his disapproval.

“I know, I know—but he’s really a nice guy,” I told him. “He was just protecting the house, that’s all. He thought we were intruders.”

Sebastian made a miffed sounding “Mmmroowf,” but followed me into the house anyway.

I put the box of groceries on the kitchen table and started unpacking.

I couldn’t help noticing there were a few items I hadn’t picked out—had Rath added them?

There was a package of the fancy, shiny sanding sugar—the kind I remembered my Grandma sprinkling on her pies and sugar cookies, a nice bottle of red wine, and a package of cat treats for Sebastian.

“Wow, look what our new friend got you—Rath picked these out—not me,” I told him as I fed him a few. He looked a little less disgruntled after that and wandered off to take a nap in a warm patch of sunshine coming through the window in the dining room.

I put away the groceries and made sure to chill the wine, then I looked around for something else to do.

I could start on the pie, I supposed. It was going to take a while to peel, core, and chop all those apples.

But first I needed to get my Grandma’s Grimoire so I could be sure I followed the recipe exactly.

Back upstairs, I noticed that the mysterious extra door that had appeared last night after my bath was now gone. Was it some kind of portal that only made an appearance at a certain time of day?

The thought gave me the shivers and I pushed it aside. Probably I had just imagined the door—or dreamed it and then thought it was a memory. Either way, it didn’t matter now.

I went into my room and put on my baking clothes—a pair of yoga pants and a baggy old t-shirt I didn’t mind getting all floury. I put my long hair up into a high ponytail and slipped on a pair of warm, wooly socks to keep my toes from freezing on the kitchen’s linoleum floor.

Then I went across to the library. I didn’t like to bring the whole Grimoire downstairs—I didn’t want to risk getting it dirty. When I start baking, things get messy.

So instead of taking the whole book, I snapped some pictures of the recipe with my phone.

After a moment’s thought, I took a picture of the Valerian tincture recipe as well.

If it was meant to “loosen the tongue and gladden the heart” maybe it would help to start unbinding my magic—if I actually had any, that was.

It was weird to think that I might have magic—and that I came from a family of witches.

But then again, it was weird that I’d walked through a magic doorway and found myself in my Grandma’s house that I had completely forgotten about for years too.

So I wasn’t going to write off the idea that I might have powers until I at least tried to find them.

And even if I didn’t have powers, if I could find some way to cure myself of my Selective Mutism, wouldn’t that be amazing? Maybe I could live a more normal life and be less of a shut-in if I could actually talk to people when I went out.

I remembered the easy way Rath had spoken to the waitress at the diner and how he’d waved at various people around the town. He was clearly a natural extrovert—I envied that about him. I wanted to be able to talk to people without the words sticking in my throat like a lump of indigestible food.

“Well, maybe this tincture stuff will help me do that,” I muttered to myself.

Going down to the greenhouse room, I went down the list of ingredients, carefully gathering what I needed from the various plants and jars. By the time I was done, I had an armful of things which I brought to the kitchen table to carefully sort out.

I made the tincture first but I didn’t try it right away. The recipe said to let it steep for at least an hour, so I put it on the back of the stove, covered it and left it to steep.

Next, I made my piecrust. I’d put my butter in the freezer the minute I got in the door, so it was nice and cold by now. I had put my flour in the fridge as well—the secret to good piecrust is getting all your ingredients as cold as possible.

Next, I got a big glass of ice water and set it to one side while I started cutting the frozen butter into the cold flour. When I had it to just the right consistency, I began mixing in the ice water, a little at a time.

I didn’t need to follow my Grandma’s recipe to make piecrust—I could make it in my sleep. People don’t realize what a difference homemade crust makes. The store bought stuff has an odd, metallic aftertaste—at least to me. It also has way too many artificial ingredients and it’s never flaky enough.

I finished the crust, divided it into two and wrapped both halves tightly.

Then I put them in the fridge to rest while I got to work on the apples.

When I finished peeling, coring, and cutting them—it took a long time—I squeezed some lemon juice over them and mixed in the sugar and all the spices but the cinnamon, which I was still waiting for.

I put them in the refrigerator next to the wine and the crust and started looking through the cabinets for the biggest pie plate I could find.

Luckily, Grandma had a really big one—like twice the size of a regular pie dish. I figured that this one must be “Creature-sized.” She’d probably kept it on hand just to make pies for Rath, who seemed to have been a little bit like her honorary Grandson there at the end.

That would also explain the big, heavy chair at the dining room table that had puzzled me so much yesterday. None of the other chairs would hold the Orc’s muscular weight, I was sure. Grandma must have gone out of her way to get some furniture Rath could sit on while he was visiting her.

I was glad that she’d had company near the end of her life—I just wished I had been there too. I still didn’t understand why my mother had taken me away—or why she felt it was necessary to bind me and bind my magic. (Again, assuming I had any magic.)

It seemed like a cruel thing to do but my Mom hadn’t been cruel.

She’d been loving and kind and patient with me.

I remembered how she had gone to the school and fought for me, refusing to let the teachers punish me for my inability to speak in class.

And she had cried with me too, and held me when I came home upset because I’d been bullied for being mute.

Surely she wouldn’t have caused my mutism herself—would she?

I had too many questions and not enough answers, I decided as I put the oversized pie plate on the kitchen table along with a rolling pin I had found in the upper cabinet. Thank goodness I’d made a double batch of pie crust!

Somehow the day had slipped away and the next thing I knew, I heard a knocking on the front door.

“Coming!” I called, suddenly wishing I was wearing something more flattering than yoga pants and a t-shirt. But I could change once I got the pie in the oven, I told myself.

I went to get the door and Sebastian came with me. He hissed and arched his back when I opened the front door and Rath was standing there.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Sebastian is still upset about yesterday, I think,” I said, feeling embarrassed.

“It’s okay—I don’t blame your familiar for being upset,” Rath said.

To my surprise, he went down on one knee right there in the doorway, clearly trying to get more on Sebastian’s level.

“Hey, Sebastian,” he rumbled softly, holding out a hand for my cat.

“I’m really sorry about yesterday—I thought you and Sarah were trespassing.

Now I know the two of you belong here and I promise, I would never hurt either one of you.

In fact, I’ll protect you along with the house if you’ll let me. ”

Sebastian stopped hissing and seemed to consider the big Orc carefully for a long moment. Then he stretched his neck forward and sniffed delicately at Rath’s fingers.

I waited silently, watching with great interest. I had always treated Sebastian like a sentient and self-aware person because…

well, because he was . He was smarter than any animal I had ever seen and he definitely understood me when I talked, even though he couldn’t speak back to me.

But I had never had anyone else—besides my mom—treat my cat the way I did—like he was an intelligent person worthy of respect rather than just a dumb animal.

After sniffing Rath’s hand, Sebastian looked up at him and gave him a slow blink—the cat sign of approval. Then he butted his head against Rath’s fingers.

“There we go…now we’re on the same page,” Rath rumbled and gently stroked Sebastian from head to tail. “Thank you for accepting my apology.”

Sebastian purred loudly, accepting a few more pets, before turning and pacing back into the house with his tail held high.

“Wow—that was impressive,” I remarked as Rath straightened up to his full height. He rose smoothly—he was graceful despite his size, I thought.

“Thanks. I know the way to a witch’s heart is through her familiar.” He grinned at me. “If you can’t win over the cat—or whatever companion animal she has—you can just forget it.”

Was he saying he was trying to win my heart? My pulse sped up but I tried to cover my confusion.

“I’m not a witch—I don’t even know if I really have magic yet—remember?” I said lightly.

“Oh, you’ve got magic,” he said confidently. “Your Grandmother was sure of it and she was never wrong about that kind of thing. You just need to find it.”

“We’ll see, I guess.” I shrugged. “Come on in—did you bring the cinnamon? I’m just about ready to put the pie in the oven.”