Chapter Three

Scents of brewing herbs hung heavy in the air of the duplex. Lucilla pushed aside a beaded gauze curtain, taking in a deep breath as she entered the industrial-sized kitchen of her Aunt Rebekah’s apartment.

There had always been something old world about Rebekah’s place. Warmth radiated from every crevice. Earth tones, red bricks and natural wood accents gave the space the look of a kitchen in some ancient castle. Plus, her aunt had expanded the room by taking out the living room and den. Now the kitchen and its massive prep area took up most of the duplex’s bottom floor, along with a closet that worked as a drying room for herbs.

“Who’s there?” Her aunt backed out of the drying room with her arms full of crackling stalks.

“It’s Lucilla. I need to talk to you about this invitation I have to the Witches Court.”

Rebekah Wainwright set the dry herbs down on a large butcher block counter in the center of the prep room. She blew a strand of bright red hair out of her face. “What about it?”

“I want to know why every year they insist on sending me the invitation when they know I have no intention of accepting? It’s a waste of parchment and ink.”

Not to mention, it never ceased to point out Lucilla’s shortcomings as a talentless member of one of the most legendary witching families in the history of the craft.

Rebekah hitched a shoulder as if it didn’t matter. “You’re still a member of this family. According to the bylaws, you are more than welcome at the open forum at the annual Court.”

The shade of a headache began in the middle of Lucilla’s forehead then spread down to pierce behind her eyes. “Will you make my excuses to the council?”

Rebekah raised a henna-colored brow, pursing her mouth as if considering a deal. It was an expression Lucilla knew well and she had to resist a shiver. Asking for her aunt’s help was going to cost her big time.

Strong, efficient hands began to untwist the ties on the herbs, working by experience. “There’s a wonderful wizard who recently joined our spell circle. He’s new in town and doesn’t know many people. He needs a date for the Legion Halloween Dance.”

Relief came at once. “Send him to my office. I’d be more than happy to find him a date. He’ll have to fill out a questionnaire first.”

Rebekah stopped her busy hands and looked up, stabbing Lucilla with a meaningful stare. “I didn’t mean for you to match him professionally. I want you to go out with him.”

Lucilla groaned. “I already have a tentative date for the Legion Halloween Dance.” Not one she wanted, but a date nonetheless.

A shocked expression drew Rebekah’s mouth into an “O”. “You have a date for the Legion Dance?”

“Don’t sound so surprised. I’ve been known to go out with the opposite sex on occasion.”

Her aunt waved the comment away like a stink of burnt herbs. “I didn’t mean it like that. You just keep your head buried in work all the time. You never allow yourself time for romance.”

Lucilla smiled. Her aunt might be a tough customer when it came to her craft as a master level brewer, but she was also a hopeless romantic. It probably came from a lifetime spent making love potions and tonics and other magical potions for the Para world.

However, her aunt didn’t understand that being a non-talent had Lucilla straddling the fence of two worlds. If she chose to, she could marry a Norm and have children. However, the possibility did exist that a stray recessive gene would reproduce the magic in her offspring. The idea of explaining that to a Norm husband didn’t seem worth the risk. Dating and marrying a Para meant they would know of her deficiency. As they would know of her triumph with her matchmaking business. It was a respectable job, but there was nothing magical about what she did. Even Norms had a certain level of intuition they could call upon when needed. Besides, countless Para couples had her to thank for their successful marriages.

And yet Lucilla had no one.

“So who is your date?”

“Tentative date,” Lucilla corrected. “You’ll see at the Legion Halloween Dance. Or not. I’m hoping he’ll strike an interest in one of my clients and back out. I really only agreed in order to get him out of my office.”

Rebekah put her hands on her hips in consternation. “Hopeless.” She shook her head, sending her springy curls flying in all directions. “I really wonder if the fairies didn’t switch you at birth with some other child. Somewhere out there in the Norm community is a witch who doesn’t know how to control her powers.”

“Or who uses them to keep her interfering family in check.”

“We only interfere because we love and worry about you.”

“I love you, too. But I don’t need you to matchmake for me. I’m a professional.”

“Who doesn’t use her services to find herself a man.”

That damn telltale blush rose in her cheeks. “That wouldn’t be ethical.”

Her aunt noted Lucilla’s high color with a low, “Ah, ha,” then turned to the cauldron hanging over the fire in the hearth.

Lucilla picked up a lone sprig of lavender that had fallen to the floor. She put the potent beads to her nose, taking in a deep breath. The fragrance sent immediate calm through her body. “Will you call off the Court? I can’t sit through another audience where everyone stares at me, wondering why I’m there.”

“I have an elixir to cure paranoia, you know?” Rebekah spoke over her shoulder as she added some of the crumbled leaves to the boiling water in the cauldron.

“It’s not paranoia when you know they’re staring.” Lucilla let out a long breath. Hopelessness washed over her. She crossed the room to the hearth, placing her hands on Rebekah’s shoulders. “Never mind. I’ll send my regrets along with the offer of free services for the annual benefit auction.” She gave her aunt a quick kiss on the cheek then started for the door.

“Lucilla Morgana Wainwright, do not walk out of this house until we settle up.”

Settle up!

That wasn’t aunt to niece speaking, but witch elder to subordinate. It was Rebekah’s way of pulling rank, using the coven bylaws’ wording to stop Lucilla in her tracks. To settle up meant a bargain had been made and the time had come to make good on the particulars.

Rebekah stalked across the room, stopping only a foot in front of her, way beyond the borders of Lucilla’s personal space. “Let Aramis take you out on a date. He’s a good man. He’s hardworking, respectable and handsome.”

“Aramis?” Lucilla mouthed. How could anyone saddle a beloved child with such an awful name?

It was Rebekah’s turn to blush. “I gave him your phone number. You should expect a call from him soon.”

“Fine. I’ll go to dinner with him, but I promise I won’t enjoy myself.” Lucilla started to leave, but then turned, pointing an imperial finger at her aunt. “Settle up. You have to tell the Court I won’t be there this year.”

Her aunt gave what might be construed as a nod.

Lucilla only hoped it meant the deal was sealed.