6 October
We have the bitch pinned.
Wish us luck.
7 October
Okay, right.
Got her.
Shoo.
This is how it went down:
We get to the Forest of Dean.
We go to the Realm.
And this might seem like no biggie, but remember:
Ash and I had been incarcerated and witnessed a brutalization the last time we were there, so no fun returning and reliving those memories.
BecBec was with us and she’d renounced being Fae and said she’d never return, (not to mention, the last time she was there, she’d been incarcerated too, and had been sentenced to a fate akin to death for a faerie). But since she’d vowed allegiance to the team, she was at odds, ticked, didn’t want to go home, or see Cystien, but felt she had to, so was generally in a surly mood.
Outside Sar and Trae (obvs), the rest had never been to the Realm so they were acting like we were on a wicked-cool vacation adventure they couldn’t wait to embark on (which made BecBec surlier).
And on the whole, we didn’t have time for this shit because we had a world to save, which made both me and Ash surly (er).
The minute we get down there, we’re taken to the Imperial Order (the three elfin dudes who act in Cystien’s stead).
We’re taken to them because Cystien is nowhere to be found.
They report to us he’s “riding the alternate dimensions.”
That was what they said.
“Riding the alternate dimensions.”
In other words, as far as I could tell, he was off on a wicked-cool vacation adventure.
Like all hell in two realms wasn’t breaking loose!
Now I’m pissed at Cystien.
Ash is certifiably livid (and it was me who could certify that seeing as I felt the need to ask for a leave of absence to go buy a ski suit, he was so pissed he was frosty).
But at least we have an explanation of how Mathielieliel got loose.
Because Cystien wasn’t around to keep tabs on her or the faeries who were guarding her (who, as an aside, she’d bribed so now they were all on the loose—the Evil Queen and half a dozen mercenary minions).
They knew one thing.
She wasn’t in the Realm.
Wait.
Sorry.
They knew two things.
She wasn’t in the Realm and they’d checked the “residue of the mounds” (an aside to explain: pixie dust from faerie wings leaves residue and none of her minions’ residue was anywhere to be found in the portals to other dimensions) so they were deducing from this that she wasn’t “riding the alternate dimensions.”
That meant, unless they were wrong, she was on the surface.
Though my guess was she was going after Cystien.
My guess was wrong.
Because it wasn’t long when their guess was confirmed, seeing as she was wreaking havoc up on the surface.
Enter Complication Part Infinity when the Prime Minister gets wind that shit’s gone seriously south in the supernatural world as pertains to the Fae.
Not surprisingly, he then demands Ash, Marcus and me to show our faces at 10 Downing Street to explain the “spate of sightings” of a “she-devil” who’s seducing young men and then incinerating them in their beds after she’s done with them.
Ahem.
The entire country is in an uproar about this serial killer the media have dubbed The Shadow Widow (I hate that that’s kinda catchy, but I can’t deny that it is).
I don’t have time for this (even though I kinda wanna visit 10 Downing Street).
Ash doesn’t have time for this.
So Marcus goes with Dr. Bennett to try to reassure the PM we’ve got it all in hand.
When we absolutely do not.
Good thing about this, leaving a trail of dead human bodies in her wake makes her a lot easier to track, especially since she doesn’t have wings to leave any residue (something Cystien should have thought about before he’d pissed her off this bad by disfiguring her, though I couldn’t know if she was on a vengeful rampage rather than just continuing to be straight-up looney tunes, I still was blaming all of this on Cystien).
Bad thing about this, she’s leaving a trail of dead human bodies in her wake.
We find her minions PDQ, seeing as they broke ranks and were setting up sex cults.
Sar, Trae and BecBec dealt with them, and back we went to the Forest of Dean to hand them off to some Guardians.
This is not the relief one would think it would be considering the fact that everyone who’s even seen a single action film knows, it isn’t the baddie’s minions who are the problem.
The hero could mow through a thousand of them with a machine gun and she or he would still be up shit’s creek.
You gotta get the Big Bad.
And she was still out there.
We think we’ve got her pegged in Torquay, so we make the only plan we can in the circumstances, considering she might be wingless, but she’s still faerie, and if she can annihilate unsuspecting men, she can reduce all of us to cinders.
Except Trae, Sar and BecBec.
Gabe and Mack actually witness her picking up a dude in a pub.
And it’s on.
We follow her to his place (less witnesses that way).
Su, Anita and I do a quick sister spell that binds our magic so all of it will come through a single wand (mine), just as long as we’re physically touching.
Ash uses what little magic he has to cloak himself in case we fuck this up and someone has to trail her (spoiler alert: we fucked it up and we do it in a way that Ash is distracted and he doesn’t trail her).
Gabe and Mack provide perimeter support (whatever that is, though they knew what it was when Ash told them to do it because they took off and did it).
And we send Sar, Trae and BecBec in.
Now, you’ve seen those scenes in movies and TV shows where the outsiders are looking into a building where the action is happening, and great flashes of light shine out of the windows like the beams of a lighthouse?
Yeah.
That was how it went down.
And (gross alert), in the midst of that, while Su, Anita and I stood outside, wand up, their hands on my wrists, a window explodes because something was thrown out of it.
That something?
The charred remains of the human dude.
Now, at that, I’m not pissed.
I’m incensed.
There I am, feet away from the madness, and I couldn’t keep a human safe?
A human?
Was that the story of the Chosen One?
Hell fucking no.
Yes, you can see where this leads.
It was me who fucked shit up.
I did this by breaking ranks and racing into the dude’s house (a semi-detached) where all this was going down.
Ash dropped his cloak when I did, bellowing, “Mathilda!”
Humans were amassing due to the blinding bright flashes of light coming out the windows, not to mention the dead body being tossed out.
They’ve got phones up, not to call 999, to video this mess.
I ignore all of this and race up the stairs.
I use a spell to break open the door.
Maithieliel sees me and shrieks, “You!”
I shriek in return, “You!”
(Give me a break, the situation was serious, I didn’t have a better comeback at hand.)
She winds up.
I fling my wand out.
And it wasn’t Voldemort and Harry at the end of the battle of Hogwarts with sizzling, dripping magic when our steams blended.
We blew up the house.
Yeah, we blew up the house.
Fortunately, Mack had gotten everyone out of the other side, our faeries were immune to death and I was the Chosen One with a vampire brother, so I just got blown to the street where I landed on my back on Gabe, who’d flown there as a bat and then transformed in order to act as a vampire mattress.
FYI: It still hurt (ouch x1,922).
Gabe said he didn’t feel a thing (I suspected he was lying, but I didn’t push it).
And Maithieliel disappeared.
This caused Ash to lose his ever-lovin’ mind at me (honestly, I didn’t blame him), which necessitated me listening to an hour-long lecture about following the orders of your commanding officer and how I’d just wasted massive amounts of magic that it’d take weeks to recoup when this wasn’t the only problem we were facing and yadda, yadda, yadda.
(Huh.)
(Sucks when your fiancé is right, just sayin’.)
It also necessitated Dr. Bennett and Marcus hightailing it back to 10 Downing Street to explain why the witches and Fae that were on The Shadow Widow’s trail were blowing up houses.
Enter the phase where she laid low for a few days.
And then we got news from some faeries who were taking a break from their sex cult to go grocery shopping in Tintagel.
Yeah, Tintagel.
One of my favorite places on the planet.
Also the site where King Arthur was conceived (theme emerging? hope not, the love of his life cheated on him and he did not exactly find the Holy Grail).
So off we went.
In the meantime, Sar and Trae had sent word to the Realm and we’d beefed up our forces with a dozen Guardians of the Realm.
I was absolutely forbidden (forbidden! by my fiancé!) to use magic unless “all other options are exhausted.”
And Ash (cloaked) did not let her get her hooks in another one.
The minute she sent a come-hither look to a guy in a pub, the Fae descended.
Full-winged.
Needless to say, this freaked the other patrons of pub right the fuck out and they ran, some of them screaming, into the night.
I’m outside and Su, Anita and me have our sister spell activated, but it’s Su’s wand up and at the ready.
And Maithieliel comes tearing out.
Now, this is when I learn that faeries don’t need wings to fly.
In other words, the bitch could move.
She flies through the wee town (on her feet).
Right toward the English Heritage site.
That’s right.
Where the ruins of the castle where Arthur was conceived are.
Gak!
We chase after her, and as I’m vowing to (maybe) start working out because I’ve got a stitch in my side and I’m breathing so heavily, I think my heart’s going to explode, we get to the cliffs.
And there she is.
She’s pinned at the cliffs, and since she doesn’t have any wings, she’s got nowhere to go.
Ash orders a couple of faeries to fly down to the water just in case she jumps.
Su, Anita and I hang back.
Mack is taking Ash’s back.
Gabe is flapping around overhead.
The rest of the Fae surround her, on land and having taken wing.
To the writing of this, I still don’t know what she did that made BecBec shout, “Humans, cover your eyes!” before BecBec flung out her arm and singlehandedly doing the spell Prunella and I did all those months ago, and all the air around us grew darker, like the moon and stars had dulled in wattage.
I was just glad she did because I have time to grab onto Su and Anita, pull them to the ground and then land cross-body over their heads before closing my own eyes and wrapping my arms around my head.
The light is so freaking bright, it still ekes through.
But honest to the Goddess, I’d take being blinded if I never have to hear that shriek she emitted again.
It was the sound she made when Cystien took her wings but ratcheted up way past eleven.
And then there’s a BOOM! that’s like the sound barrier was broken. No joke, it’s actually a physical thing, and a wave of weight made of nothing at all slams into us before a gust of wind rips over us.
After that, Sar says, “It is safe.”
I get up.
I help Anita and Su up.
Su says, “Never lie on my head again!”
I say, “You’re welcome for your continuing eyesight.”
Ash says, “Cut the bickering.”
I rethink making my man our team leader (for the two thousandth time).
We all turn to Maithieliel who is not bound with golden ropes, but ones that look made of steel.
She is, of course, looking at me.
I brace for another annoying back and forth where she blames me for something that is not my fault.
But that doesn’t happen.
She says, “I just wanted him back.”
Seriously?????????????
It’s been three thousand years!
“Yes, well, I wanted those Christian Louboutin heels that had wings on the straps but they sold out like that,” I snapped my fingers, “and I didn’t wipe out entire communities, oppress my people and go on a killing spree in a snit because I didn’t get a pair.”
“The loss of a loved one is not like the loss of a pair of shoes,” she spat.
“What I’m saying is, life is life. It’s full of disappointment and devastation and grief and things we can’t control and things that get out of hand and things we wish we didn’t do or say and things we can’t fix and things we want that we cannot have. It’s the manner of a being, any being as to how we handle that,” I retorted.
“It totally freaks me out when you act all wise,” Su muttered.
I whirled on my sister. “I don’t act wise. I am wise.”
“Whatever,” she kept muttering.
“What’d I say about bickering?” Ash cut in.
I shot my man a look.
As per usual, it deflected off him and disintegrated into the air.
“Trae, Sar, BecBec, take the Guardians and escort her to the closest mound and then down to the Realm. And I want you to personally pick the guards who look after her before you return to the team,” Ash ordered.
But he wasn’t done.
“And don’t return to the team unless you feel absolutely secure in the guards you choose.”
He got nods from the Fae and then they huddled.
Ash, Gabe (back to human form) and Mack walked to Su, Anita and me.
I wanted to watch my man walk to me, and when he arrived, suggest celebrating this victory in some way (seeing as they seemed few and far between so we should take advantage when we had one).
But his eyes were not on me as he approached us.
They were beyond me.
I turned that way to see we had an audience of humans.
Not sure how I didn’t notice them, since some were keening, others were moaning, these people covering their eyes.
The ones who weren’t were either comforting or drawing away the ones who were or they were staring at us like they’d come to the fateful and distressing conclusion that they’d lost their minds.
“We have a problem,” Ash murmured.
I suspected he was right.
10 October
He was right.
It started the next morning when I woke in an empty bed, hearing a telly going.
I rolled out of bed, stumbled into the living room (unsurprisingly, Le Société had a safe house in Cornwall, it was all beachy and fishermany and Cornish and Shell Seekers, I loved it).
Ash was not lounging on the couch, sipping some java and catching up on the events of the day.
He was standing, staring at the TV with a look on his face I wasn’t a big fan of.
I didn’t ask “What?”
I looked to the TV to see a man in an unkempt suit with a wild head of blond hair blustering at the camera.
“The existence of these creatures has been kept from the citizens of this country by the government for centuries. And now they’ve lost control of these beasts and our youth is being kidnapped and brainwashed or murdered in their beds!”
“Uh-oh,” I said.
Ash looked to me, lifted the remote, pointed it at the TV and pressed a button.
Cue the switch to another station where there was a talking head at a desk with three other talking heads on a graphic panel floating beside him.
One of the talking heads on the panel was saying, “The events of last night quite obviously correlate with events being reported around the globe, most notably the situation at Glastonbury Tor last Halloween and an explosion that rocked an amphitheater in Colorado just last August.”
The next talking head said, “Indeed. And as panic is beginning to take hold, governments everywhere are keeping mum about this when it’s very clear the peoples all over the planet are in grave danger.”
“Uh-oh,” I repeated.
Ash did the remote thing again and it was just a man from a satellite feed, saying, “…for years. And my demands for more transparency fell on deaf ears. It’s clear, they’re developing these…things as weapons. We’ve no idea their scope. Their reach. Their power. Anything about them. And now their machinations have been made public, and it’s obvious they’re no longer under anyone’s control, panic is ensuing, and they cannot be surp—”
Ash switched and there was a report on a run on toilet paper, bottled water and canned goods at a grocery store in Surrey.
He switched again, and there was someone talking over grainy footage of Gabe helping me to my feet, the remains of a house smoldering around us, and my hair looked really bad.
“Um…” I hummed.
The television turned off.
I looked to Ash.
“This has been happening all morning,” he stated.
Great.
“Pack, sweetheart. We’ve been ordered to London. And the Prime Minister is demanding to speak directly to you.”
Fabulous.
Well, one thing about this, I was going to get to see 10 Downing Street.
I just was no longer fired up about that.
Ack.
Headed to Downing Street unprepared, and not only because I didn’t have time to buy a new outfit.
When we arrived, did not get offered a tour.
Instead, Ash and I were immediately shown to a big room with a long table that was filled with a bunch of white guys, a couple Asian guys and a token woman.
We were not offered seats.
We were not offered greetings.
Nope.
None of this.
What happened next was the PM ordered, “Miss Honeycutt, explain.”
“You could use a little diversity in your cabinet,” I remarked.
“This is not an explanation,” he told me something I knew, his face getting red. “It’s our understanding with the strength of your…” he flicked a hand at me repeatedly, “sorcery you had this situation in hand.”
I didn’t like the way he said “sorcery.”
Thus, I replied (okay, and it was in a snotty tone), “I don’t know, sir. I’m looked on by some as their leader. I’m looked on by some as the opposition. There are thousands upon thousands of people who have opinions about me, my actions and my ideals. Many of those opinions are very strong. I mean, I’m not really certain you can relate, seeing as you may have some knowledge of this, but you sought the position you hold, and I did not. But perhaps you can find it somewhere in you to cut me some slack because it may be lame to say I’m doing the best I can, but frankly, that would be all I can do in any situation.”
That wasn’t true.
I could totally slack.
But I was far from doing that.
“I would suggest you have some respect for this table,” another dude didn’t so much suggest as demand.
“You speak of respect when I, nor my fiancé, have been offered a seat, a cup of tea, an introduction to you lot, or a tour. Our presence here was not a request, it was a demand. I am not a citizen of your country—” I began.
“And as such, you can be ejected from our country,” another dude said.
“Please do so,” I shot back. “It will mean Agatha Darling and Jeremy Bligh will take up residence here as the only safe place they can be because if I’m gone, Mr. Wilding will be gone, our elite team will be gone, and as she completes the rituals to make him the single most powerful being on the planet, the Dark Lord will be on your turf and you’ll be on your own while he’s tinkering with his new powers on the road to world domination.”
That shut them up.
Unsurprisingly, when the woman spoke up, she had something useful to say.
“We need to prepare a joint statement.”
“You’re right. We do,” Ash chimed in. “We also need to demonstrate a united front.”
“We’re uncertain the current government feels it judicial to publicly ally with her kind,” another dude said, indicating me at the end of that with a nod of his head. “We’ve yet to come to agreement about that matter.”
Her kind?
My fingers itched to whip out my wand.
Ash put a staying hand on my forearm.
But he didn’t use his other one to cover my mouth.
And so I used it.
“If you leave us swinging, opening us up to prejudice, bigotry, and all the ugly that comes of that, I will divorce myself from the entirety of the United Kingdom and leave you to whatever may befall you, be it the Dark Lord, the Fae out and proud, and whatever else might come along.”
“Parliament has a long-standing policy of separation in matters that pertain to the supernatural,” another dude said.
“This is not true,” Ash retorted. “Although Mathew Hopkins was never officially sanctioned as the Witchfinder General by Parliament, he also wasn’t stopped. And I, and the whole of Le Société, are well aware of the many covert attempts by combined forces, including those of Great Britain, to invade and subdue the vampires at Castle Noapte during the cold war when that stronghold was behind the Iron Curtain and everyone was terrified the communists would ally with the vampires.”
No one said anything.
But…jeez.
They thought Fane and his bros would turn communist?
They really did not know vampires.
Equality among all was so not their gig.
“Get your speechwriters to boot up their laptops,” I said. “But these are the conditions to the statement. The only supernaturals you can discuss are Fae and witches. I’ve not ascertained how the rest feel about being publicly recognized. However, elves and witches being outed to the public will explain the recent occurrences, and make clear we have things in hand—”
I didn’t get to finish.
Someone snapped, “Hardly in hand. She went on a killing spree and you blew up a home.”
“The last time she was on the surface, she wiped out entire settlements,” Ash bit. “Your writers can make that clear. And as such, your writers can share succinctly that she was capable of much more malevolence, but she was tracked and subdued in very little time. And they can capitalize on the escape of Maithieliel as an example of precisely how safe the average citizenry is, considering all Fae have her power and the last time they used it for malevolent purposes, it was again her who did the deed and it was in the goddamned Iron Age.”
Wow.
This was a totally awesome spin.
My man was the greatest.
“Viviana Honeycutt is on our team, but she’s currently in Denver,” Ash continued. “She’ll call in and work with your speechwriters on the statement. It will be reviewed by her, myself and Mathilda before the PM takes his place in front of the microphones to give it.”
“I’m not making a statement about witches and elves,” the PM declared.
“Yes, you are, sir,” Ash said in a steely tone.
“We should call Josie,” I said under my breath to Ash. “She’s good at that kind of thing and she’s English. She’ll know better than Viv what’ll go down well here.”
Without missing a beat, Ash announced, “And we’ll be calling Josephine McShane to assist in preparing the statement.”
“I suppose we have no choice but to do as we’re told or you’ll zap us or something,” some dude muttered.
Okay…
Uh.
No.
“I have not once threatened violence against you, and you don’t know me, you’ve made no attempt to know me, but I haven’t because that simply is not in my nature and I will note, considering the power my people hold and the fact, except on very rare occasions, they have not used it for ill, it isn’t their nature either,” I said quietly. “I have not once threatened anything retaliatory, except to extricate myself from the protection of your peoples, and that is not a threat, that is a choice based on your treatment of myself and my team.”
They all looked kind of uncomfortable at that.
But I didn’t care.
I kept lecturing.
And since this quiet-talking business was working, I kept doing it like that too.
“It will also be noted in this statement that all people have been living among witches since the Goddess bestowed The Craft on her first daughter thousands of years ago. And from us, you’ve received herbal remedies and cures, a better understanding of botanicals, and excellent midwifery which helped to advance the human population. What we’ve received in return is torture, drowning, hangings and being burned alive. Thus, it’s no wonder we hid our magicks from your tyranny. But even so, just yesterday, three of us put our lives on the line to pin down a maverick faerie who was murdering young men.”
I took a step toward the table and finished.
“I would suggest you stop being so bloody obvious. You fear women with resources and an end to your status quo. I further suggest you brace. Because it’s coming. And for once, you have no choice.”
And on that, I flounced out.
And I oh so totally flounced, swinging my hair and my ass and everything.
Ash moved to my side.
“Fancy a shag in a loo at 10 Downing Street?” he asked.
I was taking from that I’d turned him on with my awesomeness.
Or my flouncing.
“Absolutely,” I answered.
We never got a tour.
But we gave each other an orgasm.
So I’m taking that as another win.
At three o’clock that afternoon, with Josie, Aidan, Dr. Bennett, Marcus, and select of his cabinet ministers surrounding him (including, I noted (natch) the female), the PM gave his statement.
It was epic.
Serious kudos to Viv and Josie for that display of “sorcery.”
I’d transcribe it here, but it’s all over the place.
All you’ve gotta do is Google it.
And if you’re one of the three people on the planet who hasn’t seen it yet, I suggest you do just that.
It wasn’t long (in other words, the next day), when other governments, with witches standing at their sides, made their own statements.
It made me throw up a little in my mouth when I saw Agent Elizabeth Perry was one of the people flanking the head of Homeland Security, who the Americans decided to make their statement.
But whatevs.
It was what it was.
And what would be would be.
I had no choice but to Doris Day this shit.
And hope for the best.
Now, as you know, it wasn’t as easy as that.
Panic was the favorite pastime of a lot of people because a) it gave the assholes excuses to behave badly and b) even I feared the unknown (so I could get it).
We knew we weren’t going to just say, “Hey, we’re here, we’re real, we’re good people, relax. It’s all cool,” and everyone would reply, “Groovy. Giving peace a chance.”
But we’d taken the first step.
And you know, weird as it is, things happen for a reason.
I would never in a million years sacrifice young men through Somerset, Devon and Cornwall so a team of witches and elves could swoop in, save the day and show we had the humans’ backs.
But, well…
There was no arguing it worked out that way.
So now we’re back in Ash’s London flat and I’m back to trying to track magickal relics.
Which was a load more boring.
But it was a bigger load less scary and/or annoying.
And these days, I was taking what I could get.
12 October
Status report:
I still cannot astral project.
I have a huge bruise on my hip because I actually got more than four feet off the ground on my broomstick before I fell off it.
Have set Aidan, Dr. Bennett, et. al. to try to figure out if I can harness the power of the Pegasus feather because if that’s the most powerful thing on the planet, and I can wield it, that might come in handy.
PS on this: Apparently, all tomes pertaining to the Pegasus feather were also locked away in Area 666, so this was a long shot. Still, they were trying.
And Ash had to shove the telly in the closet because I was spending too much time watching shows like The View with people sitting around debating how they feel about the existence of supernaturals.
Or fake witches or elves coming forward for interviews, spouting shit about witches and elves that was wholly untrue, and they were annoying the crap out of me.
Or real witches or elves coming forward for interviews and the interviewers asking them stupid, narrow-minded questions that made me want to astral project myself or get back on my broomstick and show them precisely what a wand could do.
And yes, you can read from that, that’s why I’ve been practicing astral projection and broomstick riding and again why the telly is in the closet.
And last, had what I thought was the awesome idea:
Instead of tracking the relics Bligh and Darling had, going to Area 666 and getting our own to create a Mutually Assured Destruction Scenario.
Ash nixed this idea, by the by, saying, “They’re locked up for a reason, Mathilda. Even people with the purest of hearts and best of intentions can and do get corrupted by that kind of power. We know that because they have and that’s why those things are crated and forbidden…for all.”
Thus ensued one of the coolest conversations I’ve had in my life.
“Does the Ark of the Covenant really melt people?” (Me)
“Yes.” (Ash)
“Oh my Goddess! Seriously?” (Me)
“Yes. It does that, amongst other things.” (Ash)
“What other things?” (Me)
“What a man sows, he will also reap.” (Ash)
“Say what?” (Me, clearly not having been to Vacation Bible School)
“The Ark of the Covenant holds the Commandments. The Commandments are God’s will. If opened, His will is done. In other words, if you’re close to the Ark when it’s opened, and you’ve broken even a single commandment, you will reap what you sow in biblical proportions.” (Ash)
“Holy shit.” (Me)
“Yes.” (Ash, laughing)
“Do we have the Holy Grail?” (Me)
“Yes.” (Ash)
“Holy shit!” (Me)
Ash just laughed again, until he said, “And just to say, darling, there’s a reason Mona Lisa is smiling like she is.”
And then he told me all about Mona Lisa’s smile.
But I’m not sharing.
Because even if the reason is awesome, if everyone knew, it wouldn’t be as cool of a painting.
As an aside, he also told me who killed Kennedy.
And I’m not sharing that either.
Because it’s not as exciting as you think.
There’s something to be said for mystery.
Just sayin’.
18 October
Right.
Just had two very emotional days.
So emotional, I needed to recover by eating Junior Poons crispy aromatic duck, and although Ash didn’t drive us all the way from London to Clevedon so I could have it (seeing as we were getting nowhere near The Gables due to my earlier vision, this one of the few things Ash and I didn’t fight about), he hired a driver to go and get it for me.
Seriously.
He hired a driver!
To make a four-hour delivery!
We had to heat it up in the microwave.
It was still fabulous.
So, this all started two days ago when I was at the flat by myself, reading some book Aidan had couriered to me that might help me do some spellwork to track the relics and Ash was with Mack at some Le Société thing (I didn’t ask, they were being cagey, but I had a feeling Mack was into my sister, and as such, if something came of that, would be eligible to become a member).
So I was a little shocked, when Ash wasn’t there, that Marcus showed.
He was carrying a humongous gold box.
Seeing as I liked Marcus and I liked humongous gold boxes whatever they might contain, not to mention, he was my soon-to-be father-in-law, I let him in.
After I did, I kinda wished I hadn’t but not for the reasons you’d think.
He seemed awkward and didn’t want to catch my eyes which made me feel weird.
He then put the box on Ash’s coffee table and announced, “I would be honored if you’d wear that. And I know Bella would be honored if you would. As her mother was honored that my Bella had worn it.”
He said nothing more, just kissed my cheek (awkwardly) and vamoosed (quickly).
I stared at the box, from his words, now knowing what was in it.
And it scared the bejeezus out of me because I reckoned Ash’s mom got married in the 80s which meant the wedding gown in that box would probably be a poofy-sleeved monstrosity with requisite beaded headband with floof of netting veil at the back (the 80s were not the decade for wedding gowns, even (arguably) Princess Diana mucked it up with that silk that wrinkled so easily).
But since Ash’s mom’s mom was honored Isabella had worn it, and witches lived long lives, that meant it could be from any decade at all for the last maybe fifteen of them.
And let’s face it, English folks weren’t known for their fashion.
Alexander McQueen notwithstanding.
As well as Stella McCartney and Vivienne Westwood.
And even with the Wrinkled Silk Debate, it went without saying that Diana rocked style.
All right, so the stereotype was that English folks weren’t known for their fashion.
Ahem.
Still, Ash’s mom (and grandma) could be from anywhere, and whatever was in that box could be something I did not want to wear to my wedding.
But now I’d have to.
Because Ash’s mom was lost to him and Marcus had put me in a sitch I couldn’t easily extricate myself from.
And I was me.
Mathilda.
Glamour Girl.
So if you think I didn’t have very concrete plans of precisely what my wedding gown would look like, you’re crazy.
Now, with that big gold box on Ash’s coffee table, I had no choice.
I was in the position, whatever it was, I had to wear it.
Gah!
Deciding to get it over with quickly, I flipped off the top of the box like I was flicking a spider out a window.
And I didn’t get the chance to even look at the dress, because a delicate piece of lavender colored paper wafted up and then floated down at my feet.
I bent, retrieved it and read:
Mathilda,
If Marcus has given this to you, the joyous time has come.
I’m so very excited for you both.
From what I’ve seen in readings, I really cannot find the words to express how very happy I am that my Sebastian has you in his life.
Even as a young boy, he was so very serious. So studious. So earnest.
He stopped playing with toys at around age four and spent most of his time looking at picture books (until he could read himself, which was at age five) or sitting beside his father and watching the news like he knew what they were reporting.
He then dove into his studies and activities in a manner that anything less than receiving the very top marks or being the very best at whatever he was doing would be the end of the world.
And I do believe that in some small part of him, the part of him that’s me, the part of him where I gave him magic, he knew he was right.
That he had to be the best at everything he endeavored, or it would be the end of the world.
Or worse, the end of you.
But in my readings, I saw you made him angry.
Frequently.
And made him laugh.
More frequently.
And just made him feel.
All the time.
And brought the ridiculous and the sublime into his world and forced him to see just how lovely both are. How important it is for us to embrace them. For there is not enough that is ridiculous or sublime in life, so we must hold close those times we can be silly, or we can be inspired.
And you give that to him.
I know many debated if it would be my Sebastian, or the other man who earned your trust, your heart, your love, your hand and the future destined for the both of you.
But I always knew it would be my boy.
For he always did his best at everything he did. So I knew without doubt he’d win you.
But also, readings never lie (even if they can be frustratingly unclear, as I’m sure you know by now).
And I told him it would be him.
I told him one day, he’d meet this amazing young woman who would open his world and bring such goodness into his life, he at first maybe wouldn’t know what to do with it.
And then she would guide him to learn that there was one thing in this world he did not have to be responsible for. One thing in this world he would not have to look after. One thing in this world he would not have to protect.
One thing in this world he would simply be given, free and clear of any burden.
One thing in this world he could count on for the rest of his days.
Your love.
Thank you for giving that to my son.
As I’m sure Marcus has told you, I would be honored if you’d wear my gown at your wedding. A gown I was honored to wear as it was also my mother’s.
But I know you have your own style, my lovely Mathilda, so please know I will not be offended if it isn’t to your liking.
The whole point of you is that you are you.
And I would never do anything to change that.
I wish you love and happiness beyond your wildest imaginings.
Take care of my boy.
Yours in gratitude and fondness,
Bella
So, uh…yeah.
I obviously lost my nut and dissolved into tears.
And by the way, I knew I was totally wearing that gown to my wedding, I didn’t care what it looked like.
(Good news: it wasn’t a monstrosity. It was all Audrey Hepburn meets Grace Kelly silk with lace over the bodice, sheer at the shoulders where the lace skimmed over the points, sleeveless (not strapless), V-necked with lace dripping into the graceful folds of a tulle skirt and a thin ribbon belt with a tidy bow at the front—not my vision, but I could so totally work with that.)
I was still sobbing (and I’ll admit, some of it was due to relief the gown was rad, but not a lot of it) when Ash got home and freaked out (in an Ash way) that I was sitting on the floor with my head on my arm on the coffee table and bawling.
So about two point-oh-two seconds after he walked through the door, I was in his lap and he was cradling me, stroking my back and whispering, “Darling, what on earth’s the matter?”
I didn’t know if it was right, if Bella would want it, but if I was Ash and I’d lost my mom, I’d want to see that lavender colored paper.
And what she’d written on it.
Not to mention, I was still incapable of speech.
So I handed it to him.
You know, I’ve no idea if I’ll ever again see what I saw when I watched the love of my life read that note.
I just learned the cure for my tears.
Seeing them fill Ash’s eyes.
So I quit being the one stroked, and I held my guy after he finished that note, shoved his face in my neck and absently attempted to squeeze the breath out of my body.
He did some deep breathing and got it under control because he was Ash.
I kinda wished he hadn’t (not only because I liked that he displayed he was human with a human’s emotions, but that he trusted that to me).
But he did get it under control.
“Okay, so more evidence outside the fact she made you that she was totally awesome,” I whispered when he pulled his face out of my neck.
“Yes,” he agreed gruffly.
“Love you, baby.” I kept whispering.
“And I you, sweetheart.” He was also whispering at the same time running his thumb over the wet still on my cheeks.
“We’re totally gooey,” I told him.
“Name one gooey thing that isn’t good,” he demanded of me.
I couldn’t think of even half of one.
See?
My man was all around the greatest.
“Did you really read when you were five?” I asked.
“Yes,” he answered.
“Well, I’m kinda a prodigy like that too. Mom could never find me when she took me to a bookstore because I was always in the magazine section, flipping through a Vogue when I was five. And four. And three.”
He grinned at me.
I grinned at him.
Then he kissed me.
Just so you know, the dress fit like a glove.
Magic.
So, the next day, I get a Facetime demand from my mom.
I accept it.
And she’s lost her mind.
But as was becoming familiar, she’d thought I’d lost mine.
I knew this when she shrieked, “Mathilda Honeycutt, have you lost your mind?”
To which, my obvious reply was, “No.”
Just so you know, she was calling because I’d told Su about the gown, Su told Viv, Viv told Mom.
Enter Facetiming with my mom shrieking at me.
Then she says.
Get this.
“Has it occurred to you that I might want you to get married in my gown?”
Now, there were two (scary) parts to this declaration.
Part I: Since learning of my father’s existence, I’d seen their wedding pictures. And my mother was an Earth Mother. And this didn’t happen when she became a mother. As far as I knew, she’d been born an Earth Mother.
In other words, her gown was crocheted from top to bottom.
With hemp yarn.
ACK!
Part II: I was not liking where this was going because no way I was going to be one of those brides whose mother hijacked their wedding.
“Mom, you got married in crocheted hemp,” I explained, thinking that was a pretty thorough explanation since she’d known me since before I was born.
“And?”
And?
“Uh…”
“Now, you know I’m sensitive to Sebastian’s loss, but—”
“Mom, you do know that Hell will freeze over before I wear crocheted hemp to my wedding.”
Complete and utter silence.
And okay, that was harsh.
But I was not going to have a Momzilla taking over my wedding.
I quickly filled the silence.
“No offense. The pictures are sweet. As usual, you worked it. It’s just not me and you know that.”
“You do know, Mathilda…”
Oh man.
She rarely called me by my full name.
She only did it on certain occasions.
So I settled in mentally because I knew I was in for it.
“…this is not what’s considered a traditional ceremony.” She went on. “It’s traditional, for certain. But not for witches. What’s traditional for us is a handfasting ceremony.”
Confession Time:
I know I’m supposed to be saving the world.
I know I’m supposed to be tracking magickal relics and girding my loins for the battle of my life.
And when I was not, I should be practicing on my broomstick, learning our history, perfecting my craft, and generally making up for thirty years of life where I was not at my studies when other good young witches were testing spells, getting their broomstick permits, learning to rhyme and so-mote-it-being all over the place.
But I told myself I was learning our ways by boning up on the handfasting ceremony. How the elements are brought in. How the Goddess is served. How the congregation is involved.
Etcetera, etcetera.
So I knew how Ash and my ceremony would go.
Down to the second.
“Mom—” I tried to cut in.
“Your officiant will be a stand-in for the Goddess,” she declared.
“Mom—”
“And you must prepare, for you must bring the rain, the wind, the earth and the fire, and I doubt very seriously Sebastian’s mother’s gown is fire retardant.”
Like hemp was.
“Mom—”
“And the weaving, and who will do it.”
“Okay, Mom, but listen—”
“Now, your father and I decided we would let slide Sebastian doing something so un-wiccan-conventional as giving you an engagement ring, but only because he wears your own token which is unconventional for humans. And, of course, we both know how much you like diamonds.”
“Mom, would you—?”
“But really, I must step in at this juncture and—”
Oh my Goddess!
Enough!
“Mom, Gran’s going to be the officiant. You, Dad, Gabe, Su, Viv and Marcus are going to do the weaving. And I’m going to conjure spells to keep us dry when the rain comes, safe when the fire comes, and steady when the earth moves.”
And protected when the winds came, but I wasn’t going to mention that because Mom wouldn’t think we needed protection from that, but nothing was going to mess up my hair on the Big Day.
I had not passed all this by Ash, but I didn’t think he’d have an issue with it.
I wasn’t sure if Mom had issue with it because all I was getting was more silence from her while she stared at me over the phone.
“I have it covered,” I assured her. “Except I didn’t want to share all of that through Facetiming. I wanted to ask you all to be a part of our Big Day at an engagement celebration when the world wasn’t in danger and then I’d give you each your thread. And also, I’m wearing flowers in my hair so I need you to get on that and design what you think you want to do so I can approve it before you make my laurel for the day.”
No silence then.
I watched my mom’s face crumble and heard a muffled sob.
“Mom,” I said softly.
“You’re very far away,” she sniffled.
“Okay, I’ll stop planning until all this business is done and we’ll pick it up when we’re back together.”
“You’re in England, Matty.”
I was confused at this information being parlayed when I was the one in England, so I already knew that.
I still said, “Yeah.”
“And your vision…”
Oh.
Right.
She knew about that.
“Mom, I’m okay.” I was back to assuring.
“Sebastian said you weren’t going there,” she replied.
“Well, we had a homicidal elf to sort out,” I noted.
“And you did that. So I don’t understand why you’re still there.”
“I’m not close to The Gables.”
“You’re far closer to The Gables there than you are in Denver.”
I couldn’t argue that.
“Mom—”
“I’m a mother. I worry.”
It was time for me to give her silence.
“I’m your mother, Matty. And I’m worried.”
Crap.
“I know, I’m sorry—” I began.
“I don’t have good feelings.”
Crap.
“And I’m not getting good visions or readings,” she went on.
Goddess dang it.
“It’s gonna be okay.”
Yep, more assuring.
And maybe lying.
But time would tell.
“You know, I never wanted it to be you,” she blurted.
Whoa!
Really?
I totes did not know that.
“Your father and I talked about it,” she shared. “We even fought about it. He said we were honored the fates bestowed on us the Prophesied One. I thought that was bunk. Who wants their daughter to save the world?”
I never thought about it, but yeah.
Electrocution. Kidnapping. Magic-stripping ceremonies. Kill spells.
Totally yeah.
That’d probably suck.
“You know, when I do it, it’s gonna be pretty cool. I might get a national holiday. Maybe an international one.”
And if I did, I was petitioning for it to include everyone having to wear glitter.
Patrick got green.
I get glitter.
“That’s you,” she muttered. “That’s my Matty. You always looked on the bright side. You might have to climb into your princess fortress for a spell to find the bright side, but when you climbed out of it, you’d found it.”
Mom knew about my princess fortress?
“You know about my princess fortress?”
“My dearest, sweetest girl,” she said in a voice I’d never heard. And seriously, it was the dearest, sweetest voice in the whole world. “You’ll learn. Mothers know everything.”
Crap, crap, crap!
I started crying again.
“I am honored, you know,” she said through my tears. “That you’re mine. But I’d be that even if you didn’t save the world.”
Yup.
Cried harder.
“There’s Sebastian,” she said just as Ash stalked in, glaring at the phone in my hand like he was going to annihilate whoever was on the other end, upsetting me. “I’ll let you go and don’t listen to a mother’s worried prattling. I have every faith in you. I might not have understood all the things in your life that you wanted, but I admired how you found a way to get them. And you always did, Matty. I may be worried, as is a mother’s wont. But I don’t doubt. That won’t end now, my precious girl. Hello and goodbye, Sebastian,” she said to Ash who was now hovering, scowling over my shoulder at Mom.
“Hanna,” he grunted.
She smiled a small smile and disappeared from my screen.
I dropped my hand and looked up at my man.
“Do I need to lock your phone in the closet with the television?” he asked.
How was I going to stay on top of my @WorldCookeryDomination Instagram account (yes, that was what I named Lucy and my Insta) without my phone?
“No,” I answered.
“We’ll see,” he muttered, bent, touched his mouth to mine and prowled right back out.
So, yeah.
Two emotional days.
Upside: I have my wedding gown and it ticks so many boxes (most especially the one that would make our wedding even more special for my man), it wasn’t funny.
Downside: If Mom was worried, then everyone I loved was worried.
It isn’t like I didn’t know that, on some level. I just didn’t think about it.
Now I was thinking about it.
So the writing was on the wall.
Or the face was on Facetime.
I had to pull my finger out.
Take care of Darling and Bligh.
And get on with the good parts of life.
So everyone I loved could do the same.
23 October
You know, this Prophesy business is weird.
But shizzle was finally becoming clear.
Because we were reaching critical mass with all this malarkey about the supernatural world and the normal one and there had been a few (but thankfully only a few, elves couldn’t be messed with, witches either, really) ugly reports of some clashes that weren’t all that great.
But it couldn’t be denied that there was some hysteria building and Prunella (and I had to admit, Agent Perry) and their ilk were speaking out and they were good spokespeople.
Normal-looking.
Articulate.
But even so.
Even if they were sharing genuine information to combat the misinformation.
Even if the FWA and the BWC (and their ilk across the globe) had put up websites, created Facebook pages (etc.), started public chat rooms and were organizing speaking tours that debunked (or would debunk) some of the shit that was being spread, and instead shared the real story.
It wasn’t getting through as hysteria was a pretty tough barrier to break.
As for me, I was neck deep in my hunting down the baddies business and I was at a crucial juncture where I was thinking I might have another lock (this time, on the grimoire! If we got that, it’d be huge!) and I didn’t have time to be the Material Girl Next Door Spokeswoman for All Witches.
Then Josie came forward.
And it wasn’t until her interview, when she intelligently, knowledgeably and succinctly explained her time with witches. How she was a target of unknown forces, and how a witch had protected her, brought her into the family, took care of her and her son.
How she’d gained sisters, and he aunties.
And how she did not know where she’d be without us.
What she did know was that she very well might be dead.
It was emotional, but not too emotional.
She was sincere and conveyed that.
Really, she was just believable. Trustworthy. And made sense.
Her interview aired here, prime time, BBC.
But within a couple of days, it was—in whole or parts—released on networks everywhere.
Not to mention the internet.
It wasn’t like everything calmed down immediately.
But there was a definite positive reaction that if this normal, everyday chick trusted “them” with herself and her son, maybe “they” weren’t all that bad.
And then, more Spellbound came forward and shared their stories.
Not thousands of them, but Josie broke the seal.
They wouldn’t seem weird or crazy that they’d trusted a witch with their woes.
And that seemed to be getting through to people.
Not to mention, as we sprang into action and took care of Maithieliel like we had, it was coming clear, in large and small ways, we’d been taking care of humans for centuries.
So yeah, I could see it happening from here.
This springboarding Josie to what she was meant to be.
A leader for the future.
Where all of us lived together, if not in harmony, or understanding, at least, well…
Not in hiding.
And that was something.
26 October
Lucy’s in town and she brought Daphne!
Yay!
She’s working with a photographer to take pictures of our stuff for our cookbook!
Yay!
We’ve met with the BBC and I shared I was a witch (not that they didn’t know, they’d seen the video footage) and they were all excited and wanted to use that in marketing and with the program as a way to spread tolerance and understanding of witches!
Yay!
Now all I had to do was save the world.
Boo.
31 October
It is of note that the following passage was not written with Mathilda Guinevere Honeycutt’s own magic.
But instead, her residual magic.
As communicated to this Book of Shadows during the happenings on Hallowe’en in London and at the residence of Mavis Honeycutt…
The Gables.