Page 16 of The Witches Catalogue of Wanderlust Essentials (Natural Magic #2)

Chapter 8

Better Safe Than Sorry

“O h good. That will be Minodaura now. Right on time!” Minerva stood up so quickly at the sound of the shop bells that Zani almost forgot Maida’s great-aunt was one hundred and eight years old.

Minerva was verging on elderly, even for a witch, yet Minerva, like Zani’s aunt Minodaura, showed no signs of slowing down. When faced with retirement as the caretaker/curator of the Arcane Archives and proprietress of the Mudpuddle Bookshop and Cafe, Minerva did not for one moment consider taking to a rocking chair with her knitting. Instead, she opened “The Squeaky Wheel Fromagerie.” The same cheese shop and commissary that Will had tried to convince her was the “avant garde” talk of Primrose Court.

There wasn’t enough Roquefort in the south of France to convince Zani to stay in Primrose Court to babysit some relics in locked cases. She wasn’t even being given as much responsibility as the old woman had. It was a lame and pointless desk job. All paperwork and filing. What was she supposed to do with herself? Surely she would lose her mind. This was exactly the sort of safe and respectable job her relatives had dreamed of for her. It’s what Minodaura had pushed for from the moment she declared her interest in legendary artifacts.

And now her Aunt Minodaura was here? Had she come to gloat?

“Why is my aunt here?” Zani looked around the room. She had the vague feeling of being in trouble, and the awful sense of everyone else knowing something she did not. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Minerva and Zephyr exchange a wary glance.

“I think she was just eager to see you, dear.” Minerva patted her arm. “How long has it been since you’ve visited? I don’t think I’ve seen you on this continent once in the last decade. I’ll show her in.”

Zani flushed. “I came home for Solstice a few years ago. I spent the night,” she mumbled to nobody in particular.

“One whole night?” Zephyr raised an eyebrow and took a sip of his tea.

“I was in the middle of a raid.” Zani defended herself. “We’d gotten word about an Ordinary art gallery in London that was working with a shifter crime syndicate to transport stolen texts disguised as modern art.”

The texts, which included instructions on the manufacture of werewolves, were just one in a series of special ops she’d been proud to lend her expertise to.

“That was you? I recall reading about that gallery.” Will placed a hand on hers, staring at her with open admiration. “Thank goodness you stopped them. I’m sure it prevented a catastrophe.”

The mission had not ended ideally, however. Although they’d shut the ring down, there had been a cost. Too many Ordinary deaths and too many witnesses. She’d certainly put her Forgettable Fan to the test there. She grimaced at the memory. And then fought to suppress a yawn. Eventually, she was going to need some sleep. Everything was taking on a surreal quality. This felt like the longest day ever.

She could hear her Aunt Minodaura and Minerva out in the hallway, speaking in hushed, concerned tones.

“You know what?” Zephyr stood up. “I’m not doing much good here. How’s about the doctor and I make ourselves useful and go mind the shop?” He pulled a reluctant Dr. Dvita to his feet. “Come along, Tarquin and Will. We should let these ladies catch up.”

“I’d better head back to the cafe, too. Zing me if you need anything.” Rosie tapped her watch.

“Another hot coffee would be lovely,” Zani rolled her neck, trying to unkink it and summon what remnants of energy she had left. She glanced at Maida, exchanging a quick and reassuring look of solidarity. Maida shrugged. Whatever was going on here, she hadn’t been a part of it. It wasn’t a complete ambush.

Much to Zani’s surprise, Will made no motions to go.

“You know, I think I’d like to rest here with Zani a little longer.” Will leaned back against the broad chaise lounge. “We’ve both had a shock.” He patted the space beside him. “Sit here. I’m superb at neck rubs.”

Zani rolled her eyes.

“He actually is.” Maida grimaced. “It’s magical. You may as well take him up on it.”

“No, not magic Mayday,” Will argued. “I swear, ever since you’ve become enlightened about magic, you think it’s everywhere and responsible for everything. It’s because I pay attention to people. I can read where they’re holding tension. Maybe it’s from carrying so many folks through the void. But giving great massages? That’s an Ordinary type of talent.”

Self consciously, Zani moved to the chaise. She sat down stiffly beside Will. Once again, and only for an instant, her thoughts strayed to Cosimo. Where was he now? And did he have her stone?

Her stone. She chided herself for even thinking that. The amulet had only been in her possession for a few brief hours and she’d already thought of it as her own? Perhaps that was part of the bloodstone’s pull? It created inappropriate, unhealthy attachments.

Despite this awareness, she wanted nothing more than to bolt from the room, return to the continent, and resume her search. Her desire felt almost like a feverish need, one that even she could recognize as unhealthy. Wasn’t this exactly what Cosimo meant when he’d cautioned her about handling the stone too closely? Perhaps she shouldn’t have brushed off his warnings. Even her wards had limits. As evidenced by the empty case on the side table.

“I’m also quite handy at charming elderly aunts,” Will whispered in her ear as he rolled out a knot in her shoulder. “Don’t worry, Zani. I’ve got your back.”

Zani glanced over her shoulder at Will but didn’t have a chance to respond before her great-aunt Minodaura stomped into the room, beaming.

“Zanfira Marinescu! Is what I hear true? It’s about time you came home and settled down!” Minodaura’s stentorian voice projected through the room, like someone giving a speech from the center of an amphitheater.

Although she was even older than Minerva, Minodaura was much larger. Beside the diminutive former caretaker of the Mudpuddle and its Arcane Archive, Minodaura looked like a giant. And although she moved more slowly, her bearing was still regal. She towered above the other witch, taking up space proudly. Zani wondered now if Minodaura’s ability to ward had somehow held off the ravages of time, for she had not shrunken at all in stature.

Suddenly, Minodaura’s polite smile faded. She tilted her head and narrowed her eyes. Here came the challenge Zani had been braced for.

“It was quite a surprise to hear about your visit and this wonderful news about your appointment from Minerva. I gather you did not find it necessary to inform your only living relatives that you were visiting?”

“I was going to get in touch.” Zani swallowed. “This trip just came up quickly, Aunt Minodaura. I, uh, wanted to see Maida and congratulate her for taking over the Mudpuddle Bookstore and Cafe.”

“Is that so?” Minodaura scanned the room suspiciously, taking in Maida and Will. She did not seem particularly impressed. But then Minodaura had never been impressed with Zani’s Ordinary roommate at that Ordinary school, as she’d called it, and she had little use for half-Fae porters. Minodaura was staunchly opposed to any sort of magic that stepped beyond the orthodox magical boundaries of time and space.

Wait until she hears about the time slip. Zani felt her shoulders rise toward her ears at the thought of that. Will Porter gave her shoulder another squeeze. He really had his work cut out for him. She rolled her shoulders back and sat up a little straighter.

“Aren’t you going to congratulate Maida, Auntie?” Zani couldn’t stop herself from sparring. “It turns out she isn’t Ordinary after all. Never was. In fact, she is a manifester. It’s one of the rarest and most prized witch talents. We’ve certainly never had a manifester in our bloodline, have we, Auntie?” She twisted the knife and watched as Minodaura’s eyes narrowed.

“No,” Minodaura conceded. “We have not. Congratulations to you, Maida, and to you too, Minerva,” Minodaura glanced back at the other elderly witch. “It must be so wonderful for you to have a great niece who’s come home to carry on your family traditions and make you proud.”

She’d landed a solid burn with that one. Zani felt her cheeks growing hot.

“I’m sure your family traditions and agility with warding spells will come in handy for Zanfira as the new curator of the Arcane Archives.” Minerva beamed. “I cannot think of anyone more qualified. The Society chose well.”

“Hmmm. So they did.” Minodaura turned slowly, continuing to gaze around the room with narrowed eyes. She lifted a finger and wrinkled her nose as if she were about to sneeze, but no sneeze came. Just a series of sniffs as she honed her gaze in on the open chest still sitting on the coffee table. “Speaking of wards, something smells familiar. What have we here?”

She took two labored steps forward, leaned in, and waved the air toward herself like one might do when checking the aroma of a pot of soup. Suddenly, she froze, a look of shock and horror on her face.

“It couldn’t be!” Minodaura placed her hands on either side of the box. She bent her face down nearly all the way to the pillow and inhaled deeply. Almost immediately, her eyes filled with tears. “No. No. It is impossible.” She shook her head vigorously and fanned herself with one hand. “Why do I sense the bloodstone amulet of Catherine de Medici here?”

Here we go again. Zani folded her arms across her chest, bracing herself for another one of her great-aunt’s lectures. Because if there was one constant in Zani’s life, it was that whatever Minodaura could blame on the cursed bloodstone, she would blame on the stone.

Zani had spent her entire childhood being cautioned about all the things she should not, could never do because of that cursed bloodstone amulet. She’d been forced to recite obscure wards from memory on weekends and in all her free time. She’d been enrolled in the most conservative schools of protective magic, and she’d never, not even once, been allowed to swim in the Montauk sound, for fear of “sea creatures.”

This was why, by the time she was eighteen, she’d had enough. She applied for a scholarship, established by the Society for the Protection of Natural Magic, for witches who were willing to attend college at an Ordinary school. The program’s goal was to better understand Ordinary culture and establish relationships within Ordinary communities.

Somehow, she had been placed in a dorm room with Maida Westabrook. Kind, gentle, artistic Maida who’d had no idea how magical she really was. How it had pained Zani not to push her best friend toward enlightenment. How many times had she petitioned the Society to make an exception, allowing her to tell Maida the truth about the world?

But the Director had always shaken her head, saying the same thing: “All in due time, Zani. Everything must happen in due time.”

“Oh, Zani.” Minodaura’s voice choked with horror and despair and Zani felt sick to her stomach. This was the absolute opposite of what she’d wanted to accomplish with this mission. She’d foolishly hoped that returning the bloodstone would dispel the superstition and melodrama. She was sick and tired of everything—from a hangnail to hail to the death of their old cat—being blamed on that old amulet. If there was one thing Zani knew about curses, it was that they could be reversed, putting an end to the object’s power. Zani had intended to be the one to do that deed. Once and for all.

And she’d failed miserably.

Zani took a deep breath and felt Will lay his hand flat against her shoulder blade, as if to steady her. It was oddly comforting, yet she shrugged it off. She didn’t need his sympathy. And she didn’t need to be schooled by her aunt in front of her friends.

“Auntie…” Zani spoke, unsure of what exactly she was going to say or how she was going to explain her intentions. But she needn’t have spoken at all.

“You!” Minodaura pointed an accusatory finger at her niece as she rose back up to her full, imposing height. She glared furiously at Zanfira. “What have you done chasing after that stone? You couldn’t leave well enough alone. You had to seek misfortune and bring it back with you?”

“Not exactly. You’ll be happy to hear I don’t have it anymore. It vanished from the case.” Zani snarled.

“This time you have gone too far.” Minodaura was talking faster now, in a higher-pitched tone. “Thank goodness the director has finally stepped in and put an end to your foolishness! Someone needed to intervene before you brought even more shame and misfortune down upon us. Haven’t we suffered enough?”

“Is that what this is?” Zani waved the letter from the Director angrily. “An intervention ?”

“And now Minerva tells me you have been fraternizing with vampires .” Minodaura ignored the question and continued on with her diatribe. She pursed her lips and chanted “ tfoo , tfoo , tfoo ,” thrice before spitting into a handkerchief, as if to clear the bitter taste of the vile creature’s name from her lips.

Zani glared at Minerva, but the smaller old lady merely stepped closer to Minodaura and linked arms with her. Minerva patted Minodaura’s arm gently, comforting her. Clearly it was working, as Minodaura sniffled loudly and seemed to have taken a sudden interest in the crown molding.

When she chimed in, Minerva’s words were kinder, but equally unyielding.

“We’re all very concerned about you, Zani. Your aunt and I, and clearly the director as well, feel you might be better off putting your talents to use in the archives. After the recent attempted burglary, we’ve realized that there’s quite a bit of cataloguing that needs to happen down there. You’ll be working directly with the insurers to evaluate our ongoing coverage.”

So they wanted her to do both magical and clerical work?

“Is this some kind of punishment?” Zani looked at the old witches and scanned the letter again. “Will I even be permitted to travel?”

“I honestly don’t think that you’ll have the time for a while,” Minerva said. “Between cataloguing the entire collection and coordinating with your aunt to renew all the wards, you will be very busy. The insurance company wants a complete inventory within three months.”

“Well, after that, then?” Zani felt like a child, seeking to bargain with authority.

“We’ll see.” Minerva smiled patiently. “But curating the archives is a full-time job. There are always items arriving and being checked out. I barely could travel to the continent once a year. And that was before the burglary. I’m not sure who’d be able to cover for you.”

“How about you ?” Zani asked. “Couldn’t you mind the archives for a bit? You’re certainly familiar enough with it.”

“I have a cheese shop to oversee now.” Minerva blinked innocently and waved her hands limply, as if they were tied. “I’m afraid my talents are needed there. There’s nobody else with the skills to manage the mites on the rind of the mimolette.”

“Mimolette, you say?” Minodaura’s ears perked up, and she turned to look down at Minerva. “You wouldn’t have any Romanian cheeses?”

“In fact, we just got in some lovely Cascaval.” Minerva nodded with a small smile. “It’s always been one of my favorites.”

“Mine as well.” Minodaura beamed. “Perhaps I can be of help setting up the wards for your display cases and refrigerators? It would be my pleasure.”

“Oh, that is so generous of you, Minodaura! That would be most appreciated.” Minerva clapped her hands together.

“Good. I think we’re done here for now, then.” Minodaura clunked her wooden-heeled clogged heels together, like she was banging a gavel to close out a hearing. “Perhaps you’ll come down to see us at the lighthouse once you’ve settled into your new routine?”

Minodaura reached forward and aimed her crooked ironwood wand at the train case. As she flicked it, the lid flew shut again, and it locked itself.

“Even though the stone’s not in there anymore, I can still smell it.” Minodaura’s nose wrinkled and her lip twitched into a sneer. “I don’t like it. Not one bit. It’s toxic! You know what I always say. Better safe than–”

“Sorry.” Zani finished the sentence for her. She wanted to shout. Yeah, yeah, yeah Auntie M. We get it, already !

The obvious irony was that although she was safer than she had been in ages, she was also presently far, far sorrier. If only she could convince Will to use his newfound talents to take her back to the train to prevent the theft.