Page 37 of The Witches Catalogue of Wanderlust Essentials (Natural Magic #2)

Chapter 21

A Stitch in Time

Z ani stumbled forward, blinking in the harsh sunlight as she burst through a thick green boxwood hedge and out onto a gravel-lined path. The world spun momentarily before settling into vibrant, technicolor focus. In the distance, she could see a gondola. A marble footbridge arched across a broad canal. This wasn’t the garden at Catherine De Medici’s court, nor was she back at the Mudpuddle. She smelled the scent of orange blossoms wafting on the breeze from a nearby orangerie. When she spun around, she saw even more lavishly manicured gardens stretching endlessly into the distance. She wasn’t sure what she’d expected to see when she emerged, but this wasn’t it. Her stomach lurched as realization dawned. She wasn’t home. It wasn’t her time. Will wasn’t with her anymore.

But she recognized this place.

She was alone in the gardens of what could only be Versailles. The enormity of her situation crashed over her like a wave. No Will. No way home. Stranded in what she thought appeared to be the latter part of the 1680s, based on the statuary. Even though she had visited several times and was quite an expert at identifying artifacts and architecture, she would need more information to pinpoint the exact year. Or she could ask someone. She’d risked looking foolish, but this was the least of her problems.

She still had her satchel. At least that was something.

“Mademoiselle? êtes-vous perdue?” A guard approached, eyeing her old-fashioned looking clothing with curious suspicion. The Reversible Rogue’s cloak hadn’t had time to adjust yet. She still appeared to be wearing clothes from Catherine’s court. No doubt her fashionable outfit from more than half a century ago looked hopelessly dated.

Zani’s mind raced. Her French was passable, but her attire was impossible to explain away. So she didn’t even try.

“Oui,” she managed. “Je suis... perdue.”

Lost didn’t begin to cover it. She was going to have to dig deep into her bag of tricks if she was going to survive here.

—

Three days later, Zani managed to secure a position as an assistant to one of the court seamstresses. The position came with a humble cubby of a place to sleep, which was both a blessing and a curse. She was expected to work at all hours, at the beck and call of her superiors. One thing was for sure: Her packing skills had served her well. How would she have survived without this essential kit? Her Polyglot Pearls had proven especially invaluable, allowing her to communicate fluently. The cloak had provided her with the appearance of wearing period-appropriate clothing while she worked to pull a few items together. And her Nimble Needle knew all the elaborate stitches required to find herself a job.

But none of her magical tools could send her home to her time. Without a porter, she was truly trapped. But it was worse than that. Without Will, she was lonely.

“You’re not from here, are you?” a sandy-haired woman whispered discreetly when Zani delivered a set of mended curtains to the library. The speaker was extremely petite with intelligent brown eyes that glinted with the unnatural amber hue of a shifter. “Your magic … I sense it’s different.”

Zani hesitated. “I don’t know what you mean.” She had encountered more than a few magical folk at court, but none had taken such an active interest in her.

“I’m Flora.” The woman smiled, revealing slightly pointed teeth. “And you needn’t pretend with me. There are many of us at court. Those with gifts. We recognize our own.”

In the blink of an eye, and with a sudden lustre in the air, Flora transformed into a tiny, delicate mouse. She danced across a bookshelf and over the pile of mended curtains. Then, with one agile pirouette into the air, she resumed her human form on the other side of the table.

Zani couldn’t help but clap and smile. She’d known many shifters in her time, but few as elegant as Flora. She’d practically made her transformation into a ballet.

Over the following weeks, Flora became Zani’s close friend and lifeline. The mouse shifter worked in the royal library, slipping between the shelves in her rodent form to locate lost books. She gradually introduced Zani to the others at court with magical abilities. There was a wizard chef who could speed-ripen fruit, a witch gardener who whispered to the plants in the elaborate gardens, and a Fae musician whose melodies could induce specific emotions. As difficult as it was to be stranded in a time that was not her own, it was a relief to be amongst other folk like herself. They took her in and made her feel like less of an alien, assuring her that with time, Versailles would grow to feel like home. If only she’d been able to believe them.

And if only they’d been willing to believe her.

No one at Versailles had heard of porters. And certainly none of the magic folk here believed in time travel. It was almost beyond their conception.

“The past and future are fixed,” insisted an Ordinary fortune-teller who was known for reading palms with mixed results. “Perhaps one can influence the future, as we often see manifested by changes in one’s life and heart lines, but the past is fixed. There is no way but forward.”

“Perhaps you’ve been suffering from waking visions that are not unlike nightmares,” a visiting dream reader suggested. “The mind can create elaborate fantasies when under strain.”

Even Flora, kindly as she was, seemed to take Zani’s stories with a grain of salt.

After the first two weeks, Zani ran a check on her wards to see how they were holding up. Since they seemed to be intact, she concluded she was right to be where she was. If she could not change the past, and she was here in the past and interacting with people at the court, then she was always here.

So she would need to create a link between herself here at Versailles and her dear friends in the future if she had any hope of getting home. She wasn’t sure what would work to get their attention, but she diligently tried to do something every day. She felt certain that if Will knew where she was, he would come for her. Wouldn’t he?

At first, Zani did simple things, like embroidering her initials into the hems of all the curtains she stitched. Then she grew bolder. She left handwritten notes to Will in all the books about ley lines she could find buried deep in the library.

She spent all of her free time in the gardens, placing herself in sight of any artist who sketched or painted there, hoping to be recognized centuries later.

And finally, she inquired about an introduction to the king’s mysterious alchemical advisor, who simply went by the initial “R.” Surely a learned and well-traveled magician would know more about such matters than the assortment of folk amongst the household staff. He’d been away from the court for some time, but was due back soon. She prayed he could help her.

As one month turned to two, Zani did her best not to despair. She spent her evenings stitching small items in a corner of the library, because that was where the light was best, and the candles brightest. She wasn’t naturally the fastest or the most skilled at embroidery, but she was blessed to have magic on her side. At night, while she slept, her Nimble Needle finished all of her work and still found time to work on adding essentials to her own wardrobe. She now had three dresses and a full set of undergarments to choose from.

Two months was a long time. Longer than she’d spent at Primrose Court. Yet she still hadn’t come to think of this place, this time, as home. When she closed her eyes and tried to picture home, she didn’t picture her favorite cafes in Europe or even her ancestral lighthouse. All she thought of was the Mudpuddle, and more importantly, Will and Maida. Home to her, she was coming to understand, was much more about the “who” and “when” than the “what” and “where.”

Now that she realized this, she couldn’t wait to get back to them. She worried about what she might be missing. How would she make up the lost time?

But she couldn’t think of it as losing time. Because it wasn’t. Time was no longer a linear construct for her. It didn’t start in one spot and carry on in a straight line. It fanned out and folded back in on itself. Sometimes it even seemed to overlap.

She could almost feel her teenage self present when she walked into the gardens. Zani knew she would be there, hundreds of years from now, on a class trip. She’d been, or would be, giddy with her sudden independence from her overbearing aunt. It was and would be the spark of a journey that ignited her lifelong wanderlust. How Zani had wished she could experience Versailles in its heyday on that short trip. The irony of this was not lost on her now. The universe had granted this wish.

Lost in thought, she pricked her finger.

“Ouch!” she cried out, her mind brought back to her body again. She hadn’t been minding her stitches in the darkening library.

“What happened?” Flora appeared concerned.

“Nothing, I just managed to get stuck,” Zani said, thinking this was true in more ways than one. She bandaged her finger with a spare scrap of linen. “I was thinking about home again.”

“Oh, dear.” Flora sat in the chair beside her. “I’m sorry. But for what it’s worth, my friend, I am very glad you are here.” She passed Zani a misshapen bit of pastry. “I got some scraps from the chef. They weren’t perfectly square, so they did not fill them. But still delicious, no?”

Zani bit into the airy puff. It was scrumptious, not unlike a croissant. The dough was buttery and sweet, with impossibly thin flaky layers that melted on her tongue.

“Thank you.” Zani savored Flora’s kindness as much as the imperfect biscuit. Possibly more.

“Listen, whatever brought you here to us,” Flora said, “you’re safe now. You may as well make the most of your time!”

* * *

It was during a formal garden moonlight reception for the king that Zani finally spotted the alchemist. The rumors that he’d finally returned from his travels abroad were true! It was still a secret exactly where he’d gone. Nobody seemed to know the truth. Some claimed he had visited the West Indies. Others insisted he was in Egypt. The prospects of what he might bring back excited everyone. She’d heard certain ladies whispering about potent love potions. In the kitchen and the library, she overheard talk of prophecies and curses, and further advances in the alchemical pursuit of gold.

The anticipation of R.’s return to court was the buzz of the evening event, second only to the gossip about the king’s striking appearance and attire.

Zani wasn’t sure what she was expecting this mage to look like. She knew nothing about the man. There was nothing recorded about him and his activities at this court that she had come across in any of her studies. In fact, she’d been surprised to learn that any alchemist was welcome at the Sun King’s court. It was a dangerous time for anyone, Ordinary or otherwise, to espouse the practice of magic in the open.

She waited in the shadows, hoping to get a glimpse of the alchemist en route to the reception. Soon, her efforts were rewarded. She saw a tall, elegantly dressed man crossing the garden. Her breath caught in her throat and her eyes grew wide as she recognized his familiar gait. As he passed by a lit torch, his face was illuminated, confirming her suspicions. Her heart jumped and skipped like a stone skimming a pod. She would know this man anywhere. Even though he was wearing a wig.

Cosimo .

He was older now and resembled the man she knew in her own time. In fact, he looked exactly like the Cosimo of her modern era. Only his clothing was different. It was odd to see him dressed in such finely embroidered vestments and heels. His powdered wig glowed in the moonlight, as if a spotlight shone upon him.

Zani followed him through the crowd for the better part of the evening, careful to keep her distance and remain inconspicuous while she watched him. When he finally stood alone for a moment beside a marble fountain, Zani seized the opportunity to approach cautiously.

“You won’t remember me,” she said quietly, “but I know you. Or rather, I will know you in the future.” She hitched up her satchel on her shoulder, wishing she’d brought something with her that could serve as proof of her statement. Alas, she had nothing.

Cosimo turned, his expression guarded. Then his eyes widened almost imperceptibly. He leaned closer, inhaling deeply.

“The bloodstone,” he whispered. “I can almost smell its residue on you. How is this possible? Tell me when and where you are from.”

Zani’s pulse quickened, and her eyes widened. She had not expected him to accept her story so quickly. “You believe me?”

“Come.” She allowed him to pull her toward a secluded alcove in the garden. Once they were alone, his demeanor changed entirely. “It was you in the laboratory that day with Nostradamus, wasn’t it? How did you get here? And how are you here now? When will we meet?” His eyes studied her with a cold, hard intensity as he interrogated her. The hand that rested on her arm sat there lightly. But she could feel its cold, hard presence pressing into her flesh.

“We will meet in the future,” Zani explained. “You will help me steal back the bloodstone amulet.” She didn’t mention her suspicions about what would transpire later on the train.

Cosimo’s eyes narrowed. “That’s impossible. I threw the bloodstone amulet into the ocean years ago. I have finally freed myself from the burden of keeping watch over that cursed stone.”

“It won’t stay there.” Zani held his gaze. “Someone else will find it. Perhaps they already have. You helped me take it, but?—”

“But what?” Cosimo’s eyes flashed dangerously as he leaned back to study her. “Has its dark magic already infected you? Are you here to threaten me and try to do me harm?” He bared sharp fangs. “Do you really think you can?”

“No.” Zani edged away, wishing she had her stakes, or at the very least, some of the stupefying potion. “I was going to say someone else stole it from me.”

“I’m so sorry!” Cosimo placed his hands on top of his head and turned his back to her. He took a few steps away, growling slightly. When he spun back around, his entire demeanor was changed. His regret for threatening her was obvious. “I didn’t mean to frighten you. You just startled me, and the scent of that stone! It clings to you. It muddles my mind.” Cosimo paced the small space, still clearly agitated. “Why are you even seeking it? What could compel you to chase such danger?”

“At first, I just wanted to get it as a sort of trophy,” Zani said. “But if I’m being honest, I think I really wanted it to see if I could reverse its curse.” She swallowed. “I thought if I could just get a hold of the bloodstone and perform a few spells, I could free myself from the shadow it’s cast over my life.”

He studied her for a long moment. And then he laughed, a little bitterly. “Do you really think it’s that simple? The stone is not what you believe it to be.”

“What is it, then?” Zani folded her arms across her chest. Ancient vampire or no, she didn’t like the way he was speaking to her. “I know it started out as something else. I saw the blue stone you were holding in your laboratory. That was a Celestial Sapphire, wasn’t it?”

“So you aren’t entirely ignorant?” Cosimo studied her once more, reconsidering. “What you saw in Catherine’s time was an ancient wisdom stone. Rare and precious. It granted crystal clear vision and some luck to its bearer. It certainly helped me rise in the ranks of her court. But the stone you seek now is not the same. It is that gem’s corrupt twin. The bloodstone offers power, yes, but at a terrible cost. There are no spells to undo the curse it leaves behind. I can still smell it upon you, even though you no longer possess it. It has already marked you.”

“You knew this when you helped me steal it,” Zani pointed out, fuming. “And you still went through with it.”

“Then I am a fool in your time and mine.” Cosimo sighed heavily. “I threw it into the sea, hoping to end its influence, but I fear I’ve only shifted its course. The Merfolk have been at war with the sirens ever since I unburdened myself. The oceans rage with their battles.”

“I actually think it’s you who stole it from me,” Zani said bluntly. “Or who will steal it back from me.”

Cosimo looked genuinely surprised. “Why would I reclaim something I tried so desperately to discard?”

“I don’t know. All you told me was that you wanted to borrow it for some kind of ritual during the upcoming eclipse. I was supposed to keep the stone in a lead-lined case and meet you on Catalina Island with it, just before the eclipse happened.”

“Eclipse?” Cosimo’s eyes widened with interest, then narrowed with suspicion. “But where is this Catalina Island? I do not know of any such place.”

Zani realized she had misspoken. The island off the coast of modern day California wouldn’t be known to this man.

“It’s a small island off the west coast of the New World,” Zani corrected herself. “But none of this matters now.” She felt the weight of her situation anew. “I can’t travel back to my time without a porter. And neither one of us has the stone. Maybe this is my curse. I’m trapped here. With you.”

Try as she might, she couldn’t bring herself to recall what had been so attractive about Cosimo in the future. The man standing beside her had none of the wisdom and compassion. He was hard and cold. She wished only for Will and his warm embrace. She longed for his steady and reliable protection. Will would never have encouraged her to steal a stone that would curse her for life like this.

She hated this Cosimo, and were it not for his fangs and his obvious command of magic of his own, she would have been tempted to hex him. Perhaps she still would find a way. If the wards allowed it.

“This is one thing I can do for you, witch.” Cosimo shook his head sadly, staring at her as if she were a lost cause, and this was the least he could do. “And that is to tell you the story of how that cursed stone came to be. Perhaps then you will understand the depths of my depravity, as well as my despair—for it was I who brought that cursed stone to life. It holds the last of my lifeblood. It is my curse as well.”