Her voice was casual, and Dayna was grateful she was trying to defuse the tension. She didn’t like how Bronagh kept glancing warily at the door, and the worried looks Brenna was shooting her tarot deck were almost as bad. The tension in the room was starting to make the air feel thick, harder to draw in and out of her lungs.
One breath in, long and shaky. Back out. Two, three, four.
Stop that.
Yemi sat back in her chair, cheeks still rosy from running about the kitchen. She fanned herself with one hand, shaking her head reprovingly. “Quit your sass and drink your tea.”
“That’s part of our charm, though. I’m the sass and you’re the tea. Besides, I’ve had five cups and I’m ready to burst.”
Yemi opened her mouth, and Reagan visibly braced herself for the lecture that was coming, a look of amused contrition on her face.
A sharp rap cut the conversation off and made Dayna jump. The knocking came a second time and then a third, and Bronagh sighed, dusting crumbs off the front of her shawl.
“They’re here.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
MEINER
The woman who welcomed them in filled the doorway, her colorful dress a cheerful contrast to the dark and drizzly weather. “Hello, hello!” She peered past them at the gray sky, waving them in. “It’s wetter than a damp cat out there. Hurry in, the lot of you!”
Meiner forced a smile. “You must be Yemi. I’m Meiner and this is Cora.” She took a breath, forcing herself to keep her hands at her sides instead of reaching into her pocket. She’d taken a pill that morning; she was fine. “This is my grandmother, Elizabeth King. You spoke on the phone.”
“Pleased to meet you, Elizabeth…” Yemi faltered, focusing on Grandma King’s face. Meiner cringed. The drive over had not gone well. Grandma King had unraveled bit by bit as they drew closer to the coven house. Now she was staring around the place—a vestibule with racks of boots on either side—with a confused and irritated look.
“Where the devil have you taken me, Stephanie?”
Meiner flinched. This was not the first time Gran had mistaken her for her mother, but it hurt every time the name came out of the old woman’s mouth. She didn’t remember Stephanie King, but it didn’t mean she wanted to be reminded of her.
Yemi smiled, covering her surprise gracefully. “Why don’t you all come in? I’ve the kettle on for some nice hot tea and we’ll do introductions all round.”
Meiner nodded, grateful, and they followed her into the kitchen. Even Gran went without protest, seemingly soothed by the promise of tea. They passed through a short hallway, the walls of which were covered in a variety of pictures. There were family photos, Yemi and a girl who was obviously her daughter, posing for their portraits, and several pictures of a group of Black girls in football jerseys on the field, arms around one another as they grinned at the photographer.
But the picture that really caught her eye was of a group of women sitting on a checkered blanket spread under an apple tree, faces turned up to the camera. Just behind them, clear in the photo, was a makeshift altar under the nearest apple tree, incense burning in the center.
Was that their coven? She tried to imagine a world where her coven picnicked on sunny days in apple orchards or took family portraits together, and completely failed. It was a ridiculous image.
They moved into the kitchen, and Cora stopped abruptly. Meiner, who had been glancing back at Grandma King to make sure the old woman didn’t wander off outside, nearly walked into her. When she looked up her mouth dropped open. It was not the cluttered but homey kitchen or the giant, faded tapestry on the wall that caught her attention…
It was her.
Meiner couldn’t look away. The wide blue eyes, the silver nose ring, the dusting of freckles across her pale cheeks…
The girl from Sage Widow sat at the kitchen table, blinking at Meiner in surprise. She seemed frozen, a teacup halfway to her lips, staring with wide eyes. Meiner opened her mouth and then shut it, unsure what to say.
Finally Cora said it. Loudly enough for them all to hear. “Whoa, it’s Tea Girl. That’s weird.”
Tea Girl, for her part, blushed bright red and shifted in her chair. “Dayna,” she said. “And you’re Meiner, right?”
Yemi was already beaming at them. “Oh, you’ve met before?”
Dayna looked flustered. “Uh, at Sage Widow earlier today.”
Oh no, she wasn’t about to get away with it that easily. “Yeah, that’s right, she practically stole the last satchel of tea out of my hand.”
Dayna sputtered. “What? You know I had it first.”
Meiner smirked, sinking down onto the seat across from Dayna. She couldn’t seem to help herself. The other girl was so indignant, it made her want to keep going. “Aye, that’s your official story, isn’t it?”
Dayna flushed even darker. She looked fairly ready to burst, and then the girl beside her cleared her throat, flicking blue locs over one shoulder. “Not all of us know one another. Should we do introductions?”
The red-haired woman across the table clanked her teacup down. “Yes, let’s get to know one another.”
Meiner looked around the table. The teacup-smashing woman was pale, thin, and waspish. Her narrow glasses and tight bun at the top of her head gave her an angry librarian vibe. The woman sitting next to her looked related, though, judging by her warm smile, she was a good deal more cheerful. She also had an assortment of black feathers and silver beads in her hair, and parts of it were braided, apparently at random. An older sister or mother of the angry librarian, maybe. The woman on the other side had to be as old as Grandma King. She wore a blue knitted shawl with a clunky costume brooch pinned to the front. She was busy peering into her teacup, as if it were far more interesting than the other coven.
Then there was Yemi, their hostess. Judging by the warning look the older woman gave her, the Black girl with the blue hair and the stack of books was her daughter.
So, this was the other coven it was so vital they meet. She wasn’t sure what to think.
Introductions began and ended, and Meiner tried to keep her eyes in the right places and not stare at Dayna, who she was very aware was still scowling at her.
“You’ve quite a bit of luggage with you, King.” The old woman, Bronagh, placed a wrinkled hand on the table, spreading her fingers over the cloth. “Exactly how long are you planning on staying?”
Meiner’s brows shot up, and she swiveled in her chair. If Gran was offended by the sharpness of the question, her face revealed nothing. For a moment, the old woman simply stared, and Meiner sighed, about to explain they might not get any sense out of her, that today had been one of her bad days.
Grandma King leaned forward, taking her teacup. Her hands were suddenly steady. “As long as it takes, Bronagh. We’re going to need to pool our power. You don’t have enough on your own, and there’s nothing but hedge witches for miles.”
Meiner blinked, feeling a bit of whiplash at how fast this version of her grandmother had returned. On top of that, it seemed she and Dayna weren’t the only ones butting heads. No surprise that Grandma King had bad history with her old coven.
Grandma King leveled a pointed look at the other woman. “I think you know why we’re here.”