Mom thrust another lunch box into a backpack, her jaw set hard as she fought against the words I suspected were in her heart. I’d told her about Sylvia’s proposal for New York. Anyone would think I’d slapped her in the face then, and her mood didn’t seem much improved now, even though today was my birthday. She zipped up the bag, and with an annoyed flick of her wrist, the bag drifted out of the kitchen and into the hall, landing on its proper hook, next to all the other stuffed bags.
In contrast, as I’d half suspected he would, Dad had been delighted. As Mom shooed the last of the kids out of the kitchen screaming “Happy birthday, Cat!” as they had been doing all morning, Dad bounced in and kissed me on the top of my head.
“How’s my birthday girl then?” He wrapped his arms around me and slipped a package covered in pink tissue paper with a silver bow into my hands.
“Thanks, Dad.” I grinned and began unraveling it. I knew he wasn’t going into work today. He’d never missed any of our birthdays and had promised to take me out to lunch. Which meant him, Mom, all the kids, half my friends from the village, and anyone else he could rope into a surprise party would be showing up. Not that I was complaining. The only difficulty was pretending to be surprised when everyone turned up at The Goblin King Diner, our favorite local restaurant.
Inside the paper was a small, oblong box. I opened it, and to my delight I withdrew a silver necklace with a half-moon pendant. A small arrow hung from the top of the moon and swiveled freely.
“It’s a compass,” Dad said. “So, you’ll always be able to find your way home.”
My cheeks burned with pleasure, and I kissed him. “Is it magic?”
Dad shook his head. “Nope. Just a little something pretty.”
“Thank you so much. I love it! Will you help me put it on?” I opened the clasp and offered it to him, thankful as much for the chance to dodge Mom’s gaze. Dad took it gladly and expertly secured it to my neck.
Mom’s scowl faltered for a moment, and a faint smile tweaked the corners of her lips. “I’m glad you like it. How are you feeling today?”
I didn’t need an interpreter to tell me what she referred to. The feelings inside me had been growing stronger every day. I hadn’t breathed a word about it to anyone, yet somehow Mom knew. I guessed she didn’t need any special kind of magic to get inside my head. I didn’t want to lie to her, but I knew the truth would hurt her too. I chose avoidance and misdirection.
“Pretty excited. I’ve always wanted to go to New York, and I’m counting the days.” I left the kitchen in search of a mirror to inspect my new treasure. It was enchanting, and I held the pendant aloft, watching the arrow settle on north.
Yet it wasn’t the north that tugged at my heartstrings. From the window by the mirror, I could see the church, and though the calling was always weakest in the morning, I felt an odd desire to go out now. Yet something was different this morning. I couldn’t exactly put my finger on what it was, but I wanted to be outside.
I knew Mom was watching me, so I pretended to be fascinated by my necklace.
“I think I might go for a walk,” I said. “Get a bit of air.”
“Put on a coat. It’s a little chilly out there this morning.” Mom picked the necklace package up from the table and tossed the wrapping in the trash. She stuffed the velvet-covered black box in a drawer.
“What time’s lunch?”
Dad was pouring himself some coffee, and he slid into a chair at the kitchen table before answering. “Be back by noon.”
“Okay.” I nodded and grabbed my black poncho from a hanger by the front door. “I won’t be long.” I pulled the poncho over my head. It almost completely covered my light-gray sweater and nestled just below the waist of my jeans. I slipped my buds from my pockets and popped them in each ear.
I didn’t have to look back to know Mom was watching me. At twenty-one, I was too old to lock in my room, but I knew she’d put me there if she could. I closed the door softly behind me and braced against the exceptionally cool morning. When I turned around, I found myself staring at clusters of balloons and ribbons and HAPPY 21ST BIRTHDAY banners, which surrounded the house and could be seen for miles around. I chuckled and, looking back, saw Mom and Dad waving from the front window. I shook my head, pretending to be exasperated, but really, I was secretly pleased.
For a little while, I entertained myself with crunching the fallen maple leaves under my feet. I had several friends in the village I could call on, but I was pretty sure I’d be seeing them later. Right now, I wanted to be alone with my thoughts while the Spell Sisters crooned in my ears.
I might have meandered a little, but what the hey, I knew where I was headed. How could I not? It was like my twenty-one years on this earth all led to this day. But what was I going to do tonight? Wander out on my own and dance around an unconsecrated grave? Dance naked in the moonlight and call on the spirits of the undead to rise again? Yeah, right, Mom was definitely going to let that happen. I’d been wondering what I was going to do when the time came for days. And now here I was, and I still had no clue.
The thought occurred to me that Sylvia might be able to help. I had a feeling she’d be home—the word was she liked to work first thing, but I was sure she wouldn’t mind in the circumstances. This was a unique occasion, and it wasn’t as if there was anyone else I could turn to for help. On the other hand, I owed her a lot already. I didn’t want her to think of me as a nuisance.
I’d just picked up the pace to head that way when something caught my attention in the graveyard. Curious, I removed my earbuds and popped them in my pocket.
Having lived in this village my entire life, I knew all the names on the headstones by heart. On the far side of the church, just after old Mrs. Truckett’s stone, was a blackberry bush. I often relieved it of its fruit this time of year, but it looked like for once, someone was there ahead of me.
A young man, maybe six feet tall, or perhaps a little taller, was harvesting berries into a half-full, oversize ceramic colander. He wore a brown tweed jacket, jeans, and I noticed a pentacle tattooed on the backs of each wrist. A hawthorn wand was casually sticking out of his back pocket. He didn’t appear to notice me at all.
“Ahem.”
He looked round at the sound of my cough.
“Oh, hello.” He smiled and turned back to the bush to continue picking berries. He had a nice, if unremarkable face, and I had this strange feeling I’d seen him before, though right now I couldn’t place him. “I’m guessing you’re Catherine. Sylvia said you’d be popping by. Be a sweetheart and help me pick these berries.”
“Excuse me?”
“I’ve eaten most of what I’ve picked, and she really wants to bake a pie.”
Growing on church property, this bush belonged to the church, so he was technically stealing. Not that that had stopped my family picking berries here for years. It irritated me somewhat that he should be brazenly stealing the berries that I usually stole each season.
I felt a little stupid, just standing there, so I did as he suggested and started to help him pick. Not that that made me feel any better.
“You know my name, but who are you?”
“Oh.” The young man shoved the colander under one arm and offered me his right hand. “Henry. Henry Tilney. Nice to meet you.”
His hand was stained purple with berry juice, but I shook it anyway.
So, there I was, picking berries in a graveyard with a complete stranger who knew my name. I wondered if the day could get any weirder.
“Do I know you?” I dumped a handful of berries into his colander.
“No, we haven’t met exactly, but I saw you when I asked your brother for directions the other day.”
The penny dropped. He was the driver of the black Ford truck I’d seen. “How did you know Jimmy was my brother?”
“Sylvia’s orbuculum. I was helping her unpack it when I saw a vision of you and your brother in it. I asked her who it was, since I’d just run into him, and she told me who you were and that I might as well get to know you since we’d be spending a lot of time together soon enough.”
I stopped picking berries. This guy really liked to talk. I wondered if he always talked too fast and too quickly when he was nervous. I knew I sometimes did. And what was with the orbuculum? “You were spying on me in her crystal ball?”
“No, of course not. Your image popped up when I handled it. It wasn’t like I’d asked it to.”
“Really?”
“Sure. You’re going to New York, aren’t you? It probably made the connection.”
Yes, but what had that to do with him? “She only just invited me.”
“Well then.” Henry carried on picking berries as if this were all perfectly natural. Yet I couldn’t have been more confused.
“When did you say you saw us?”
“The day she arrived.”
“But she didn’t invite me to New York until after that. It just sort of came to her—it wasn’t planned.”
Henry shrugged. “Divination is a wonderful gift. I wish I had it. Not many do.” He looked inside the colander and gave it a little shake. “Well, I think that’s enough, don’t you?”
“Sure, if you want to make ten pies.”
He chuckled. “If you say so. I’ve never baked a pie in my life. I guess we should get going then. You were heading over to the house, right?”
Confused, I nodded. I wasn’t sure I liked this divination thing. It put me at a clear disadvantage. “Yes, yes, I was.”
He grinned, popped a berry into his mouth for good measure and began walking around the church. I fell into step beside him.
“What else do you know about me?” I asked.
“Not a lot. That’s pretty much it, really. I suspect I’ll soon know a lot more, seeing as I’m going to be your mentor.”
“My what?”
“Your mentor. I think that’s why she sent me out here to run into you. So we could get to know each other, informally like. It’s going to be my job to show you the ropes in New York, as much as I can. At least when she’s back here. Plus, we’ll be taking care of her shop.”
My head was popping with a flurry of emotions, but like a kid on her first day of school, I couldn’t think of a single thing to say.
“This is all assuming we get along, of course,” he added. “If you don’t like me, I’m sure she’ll find you someone else.”
I didn’t answer him. We’d just scaled the cemetery wall and were passing my ancestor’s grave. I felt the familiar tug in my belly button and paused.
Henry was a few steps ahead before he turned to see what I was about. “Is that the grave?”
I nodded. “You sure know a hell of a lot about me.”
“You’ll be fine as long as you don’t touch the headstone.”
My attention went to the somewhat innocuous-looking stone with its simple inscription. I closed my eyes, and my mind went back fourteen years, to my seventh birthday. For the first time in forever, I remembered kneeling before the stone and running my fingers across the chiseled words. A moment later, the ground pulsed beneath me, and afraid, I stumbled back a few feet, wondering what on earth I had done. I watched in bewildered awe as the apparition rose from the ground. I remembered not being afraid—just spellbound. I’d forgotten about touching the stone that day.
“Really, is that all?”
“Sure. You’re the boss of the dead after all, not the other way around.”
“I don’t understand,” I said.
Henry tilted his head to one side as he studied me. “Hasn’t anybody told you?”
“Told me what?”
A grin teased the corners of his mouth. “Why, that you’re a necromancer of course.”
If I’d been holding those berries, I’d have dropped them everywhere.