“We don’t normally have a big celebration, it’s true, but this year Hannah O’Neil is pulling out all the stops to welcome you back home. And to give us all a chance to say good-bye to Em.”
“But Matthew—Fernando.” Sarah dropped her voice. “The covenant.”
Vivian shouted with laughter. “Diana’s pregnant. It’s a little late to worry about breaking the rules. Besides, the coven knows all about Matthew. Fernando, too.”
“They do?” Sarah said, startled.
“They do,” Diana said firmly. “Smitty has bonded with Matthew over hand tools, and you know what a gossip he can be.” The indulgent smile she gave Matthew took some of the sting out of her words.
“We’re known as a progressive coven. If we’re lucky, maybe Diana will trust us with whatever is wrapped up inside her disguising spell. See you Sunday.” With a smile at Matthew and a wave to Fernando, Vivian got into her car and pulled away.
“Vivian Harrison is a bulldozer,” Sarah grumbled.
“Observant, too,” Matthew said thoughtfully.
“She is.” Sarah studied Diana. “Vivian’s right. You are wearing a disguising spell—a good one. Who cast it for you?”
“Nobody. I—” Unable to lie, and still unwilling to tell her aunt the truth, Diana snapped her mouth shut. Matthew scowled.
“Fine. Don’t tell me.” Sarah stomped back to the keeping room. “And I’m not going to that potluck. The whole coven is on some vegetarian kick. There will be nothing to eat but zucchini and Hannah’s famously inedible Key lime pudding pie.”
“The widow is feeling more herself,” Fernando whispered, giving Diana a thumbs-up as he followed Sarah into the house. “Returning to Madison was a good idea.”
“You promised you’d tell Sarah you’re a weaver once we were settled here at the Bishop house,” Matthew said when he and Diana were alone. “Why haven’t you?”
“I’m not the only one keeping secrets. And I’m not just talking about the blood-vow business or even the fact that vampires kill other vampires with blood rage. You should have told me that Hugh and Fernando were a couple. And you definitely should have told me that Philippe had been using your illness as a weapon all these years.”
“Does Sarah know that Corra is your familiar, not a souvenir? And what about meeting your father in London?” Matthew crossed his arms.
“It wasn’t the right moment,” Diana said with a sniff.
“Ah, yes, the elusive right moment.” Matthew snorted. “It never comes, Diana. Sometimes we just have to throw caution to the wind and trust the people we love.”
“I do trust Sarah.” Diana bit her lip. She didn’t have to finish. Matthew knew that the real problem was she didn’t trust herself or her magic. Not completely.
“Take a walk with me,” he said, holding out his hand. “We can talk about this later.”
“It’s too hot,” Diana protested, though she still put her hand in his.
“I’ll cool you off,” he promised with a smile.
Diana looked at him with interest. Matthew’s smile broadened.
His wife—his heart, his mate, his life—stepped down off the porch and into his arms. Diana’s eyes were the blue and gold of a summer sky, and Matthew wanted nothing more than to fall headlong into their bright depths, not to lose himself but to be found.
No wonder we don’t celebrate Lughnasadh,” Sarah muttered, pushing open the front door. “All those awful songs about the end of summer and the coming of winter—not to mention Mary Bassett’s tambourine accompaniment.”
“The music wasn’t that bad,” I protested. Matthew’s grimace indicated that Sarah had a right to complain.
“Do you have more of that temperamental wine, Fernando?” Sarah flicked on the hall lights. “I need a drink. My head is pounding.”
“Tempranillo.” Fernando tossed the picnic blankets on the hall bench. “Tempranillo. Remember: It’s Spanish.”
“French, Spanish, whatever—I need some,” she said, sounding desperate.
I stood aside so Abby and Caleb could get in the door. John was conked out in Caleb’s arms, but Grace was wide awake. She squirmed to get down.
“Let her go, Abby. She can’t hurt anything,” Sarah said, heading for the kitchen.
Abby put Grace down, and the child toddled straight toward the stairs. Matthew laughed.
“She has the most amazing instincts when it comes to trouble. No stairs, Grace.” Abby swooped in and swung Grace up in the air before depositing her back on the floor and pointing her in the direction of the family room.
“Why don’t you put John in the keeping room?” I suggested. John had abandoned his Spider-Man mask and was wearing a T-shirt with the superhero on it instead.
“Thanks, Diana.” Caleb whistled. “I see what you mean about the tree, Matthew. So it just sprang up out of the hearth?”
“We think some fire and a bit of blood might have been involved,” Matthew explained, shaking out one of the blankets and following Caleb. The two had been chatting all evening about everything from academic politics to Matthew’s hospital work at the John Radcliffe to the fate of the polar bears. Matthew arranged a blanket on the floor for John, while Caleb ran his fingers over the bark on the Blasted Tree.
This is what Matthew needs, I realized. Home. Family. Pack. Without other people to take care of, he retreated to that dark place where his past deeds haunted him. And he was especially prone to brooding now, given Benjamin’s recent reappearance.
I needed this, too. Living in the sixteenth century, in households rather than simply in houses, I had grown accustomed to being surrounded by other people. My fear of being discovered had receded, and in its place had grown a wish to belong.
As a result I’d found the coven potluck surprisingly enjoyable. The Madison witches had occupied an intimidating place in my imagination, but tonight the assembled witches were pleasant and, except for my high-school nemeses Cassie and Lydia, welcoming. They were also surprisingly powerless when compared to the witches I’d known in London. One or two of them had some elemental magic at their disposal, but none were as formidable as the firewitches or waterwitches of the past. And the Madison witches who could work the craft couldn’t hold a candle to Sarah.
“Wine, Abby?” Fernando offered her a glass.
“Sure.” Abby giggled. “I’m surprised you made it out of the potluck alive, Fernando. I was positive that someone was going to work a bit of love magic on you.”