Epilogue

 

“Wait a minute,” Bree said. “So, John’s sergeant, the police, everyone, thinks Waite was the one who pushed Jinx’s boyfriend out the window?”

I said, “He wasn’t her boyfriend, and he didn’t get pushed out a window. He fell off the fire escape.”

“Uh-huh,” Vaughn said, reaching over to top up Bree’s coffee cup.

“Not funny,” Andi told him.

Vaughn shrugged. “It’s kind of funny. At the least, it’s ironic.”

I don’t know what most Transformations of the Stag are like.

Mine was—belatedly—spent on Montara Mountain on Halloween night, four months after the actual wedding, talking and drinking cognac-laced coffee with the people I would have once said knew me best. The people who were still willing to give up their Samhain to wait with me beneath a golden-orange moon as big and ripe as a magical pumpkin. The five of us had not been together since my wedding rehearsal. The night Rex had been mown down in a hit-and-run. The night John had learned the truth of who and what I was. The night everything changed forever.

It seemed like a lifetime ago.

In some ways, it was a lifetime ago.

“And Phelon agreed to plead guilty to extortion and attempted murder and all the rest of it?” Bree’s expression in the firelight was dubious, and I understood why.

“Yes.”

“I wouldn’t rely on that promise.” Rex took a long swallow from their Thermos cup.

“No. I don’t.”

I did, however, rely on Phelon’s fear of the Duchess—and of John.

Andi asked softly, “How’s Ambrose doing?”

I lifted a shoulder. “Okay, I suppose. He’s not talking much.” Despite Maman and Bridget’s combined efforts, GramMa had been too powerful to contain. What she had recognized in me was, to her, a threat. I was afraid to contemplate how things might have ended had Phelon not interceded.

“Is he still working at Blue Moon?” Rex asked.

“Yes. He’s working at the store, but he’s taking a break from his training.”

“Ah.”

“That was nice of you and John to have him stay with you till he’s back on his feet. Emotionally.” Andi smiled at me. Despite the smile, I thought I saw sadness in her eyes, and I wondered if she had finally told Trace she couldn’t marry him.

I said, “It was John’s idea.”

“Was it really?” Bree sounded amazed.

“Yes. It really was. He thinks Ambrose is a sharp kid and shows a lot of promise.” I couldn’t help a sigh. “I just hope he doesn’t try to get him to join SFPD.”

The others laughed.

In truth, I would be okay with whatever Ambrose chose for his path. He was struggling over the death of GramMa, feeling he should have tried harder, done more to protect her. Intellectually, he understood that a lifetime of spiritual anguish—the conflict between her innate gifts and her religious indoctrination—had driven her mad. But emotionally, he wanted something to blame, and that blame veered between himself and the Craft.

Vaughn said, “So you’re saying John and Ambrose are at home tonight, handing out Halloween treats?”

“When I left, John was instructing Ambrose in the fine art of carving stencil designs onto pumpkins.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. They had already done a fox, a rabbit, and a tree.”

“What do rabbits, foxes and trees have to do with Halloween?” Bree asked.

“Nothing that I know of.”

John was just being kind. That, of course, did not fit any of their notions about John, but he was really good with Ambrose. Patient. Kind. But then John knew all about difficult family members. Which was why Nola also would be at the Greenwich house that evening, supervising the handing out of said treats.

As though reading my mind, Rex said, “You’ve got John’s sister and Ambrose both staying with you?”

“Just until Maman gets home.”

Which could not be too soon for me. John was way better with Ambrose than he was with Jinx. Jinx was partying with friends that night, to John’s not-much-concealed disapproval—which was where he and I disagreed. I couldn’t see any reason why Jinx shouldn’t spend the night with friends. Or away from Nola.

“Oops. Full house,” Vaughn said. “No more newlywed noogie for you two.”

“It’s nookie,” Bree said.

“No, it’s not.”

“Yes, it is.”

“Cos, is it nookie or noogie?”

Rex said, “It depends on the relationship.”

We grinned at each other.

Rex was thinner and their hair was longer and wilder than ever, but otherwise, you would never know that they had spent the last months in what amounted to suspended animation while their body healed.

Andi pulled the neck fastening of her parka closer, and said, “I can’t get over the fact that your parents are spending this entire week together in Paris.”

“I’m sure Father is just staying at Maman’s for the sake of convenience.”

Rex cleared their throat.

Andi said, “Yes. That must be it.”

“And I’m sure they have a lot to talk about after the—the blowup at le Conseil Savant.”

I had yet to hear the details of what had occurred at the last convening of the Société du Sortilège. I knew—everyone in the Abracadantès knew——that the membership of le Conseil Savant had changed yet again. Madame de Darrieux had reportedly been banished. In the Craft we call it burned. It is the harshest of punishments, at least in modern times.

Oliver had gone into hiding—again—but I did not know if he had been officially sanctioned. For that matter, I was not really clear what his role in the attempted coup had been. That he was rabidly anti-mortal was now clear. I was sure, though I had no proof, he had been working with Phelon. Yet he was ostensibly friends with Ralph and, as far as I could tell, had been aiding and abetting SPMMR.

I did know, after meeting Ralph for drinks that week, that the Society for Prevention of Magic in the Mortal Realm was satisfied with the outcome. Which right there was enough to make me uneasy.

Bree said, “I think it’s kind of romantic that your father kept those letters all those years in case the Duchess ever needed them.”

Vaughn turned to give her a look of disbelief. “You think it’s romantic that Cosmo’s father kept letters to be used as blackmail if necessary?”

“Well, yes. Sort of.”

“This is why I text,” he said.

Andi and Rex laughed.

We threw more wood on our little fire, drank more coffee, then dispensed with the coffee and just drank cognac. The moon drifted slowly across the sky.

Vaughn and Bree eventually zipped their sleeping bags together and curled up for the night.

“And we always said it wouldn’t last,” I remarked soulfully.

“Shut up, Cosmo,” Bree’s muffled voice returned, and then she squealed and started giggling. I heard Vaughn’s deeper laugh join hers.

Andi and I smiled at each other. Rex topped off our cups and shook the last drops out of the thermos.

The three of us chatted a while longer, and then Andi sighed, said wistfully, “That’s it, then. Life is back to normal.”

Her eyes met mine, and I felt a pang.

Yes, she had told him, and her heart was breaking. Trace’s too, I didn’t doubt.

“It seems so,” I said.

 

 

After Andi had rolled herself into a neat little jellyroll of sleeping bag, Rex and I talked about what had happened the night Phelon had tried to kill Rex.

“Did you know there was a plan to remove Maman and make Madame de Darrieux heiress to the trône de sorcière?”

Rex made a pained sound. “No. I knew Phelon was working with SPMMR and had been for some time. I thought—wrongly—that the plan was to either frame you for murder or kill you outright. I didn’t realize it was une affaire de malice domestique.”

I let out a long sigh. “Yes. So it seems.”

Rex poked the fire absently.

I said slowly, “Phelon was being helped by members of SPMMR. I don’t care what Ralph says.”

“Ralph may not know,” Rex pointed out. “SPMMR is a growing organization. Just as there are factions within the Craft, factions within the Abracadantès, factions within your own family, so there are factions within SPMMR.”

“True.”

I studied them for a moment, smiled. “This reminds me of the night we spent in the Schwarzwald.”

Rex smiled in return. “Yes. Those were good times.”

I nodded. “We never did make it to Aokigahara Forest.”

“No.”

For a time the only sound was the pop and snap of firewood.

Rex said in a low voice, “Are you happy, Cosmo?”

I didn’t have to think about it. “Oh yes. Very.”

Soulmates is not a thing within the Craft, but I did believe that in John, I had found my soulmate.

Rex regarded me in their steady way, and seemed satisfied. “I’m glad.”

A thought occurred to me. “Is your case closed?”

“No.” Rex amended, “One angle of investigation has closed.”

“Does your ongoing investigation concern me?”

Rex shook their head. “No.”

That was a relief.

By then it was very late and the moon had slid behind the tawny hillside. The only light was our fire. The shadow flames seemed to link hands and dance through the trees…

Rex yawned abruptly and rose. “I’ll say good night, then.”

I gazed up at them. “Good night. Thank you for being here.”

“I wouldn’t have missed it.”

Our eyes met, our mouths curved, knowing how nearly they had.

Rex unzipped their bag, climbed inside, zipped it up. They said, “You have to keep the fire burning.”

“I know.”

Rex settled their head on their bundled jacket, and closed their eyes.

 

 

It became a struggle not to fall asleep.

The night grew colder, darker, eerie, but each time I thought of John waiting at home for me, I felt warm and happy and calm. The old doubts were gone. I didn’t know what the future held, but I knew we would face it together, and that was the only promise I needed.

More time passed.

Somewhere to the east, an owl hooted. I listened and wondered. Witch’s lost Familiar, or a wild creature?

I whispered, “We must each find our place in the world.”

The fire continued to crackle and sing. Embers drifted into the sky.

“For each of us there is a place in this world.”

The air changed.

I gazed into the heart of the fire. As I watched the flames jump higher and higher, I saw it begin to take form, saw a stag with hooves of fire and horns of flame, saw the stag grow in long licking leaps of yellow and red tongues.

I rose and spoke the final words. “Show me my place within this world.”

My heart pounded in time with the swirling, molten heart of the stag.

I was afraid, and I was full of joy.

So mote it be.

I opened my arms.