The Silver Rose (8 page)

“I don't know.” Rosa shrugged. “I said the same thing to Alanna. I just feel there's more to why he's here early.”

“She thought his presence would affect our circle.” Alanna's tone was a touch sarcastic. “As if!”

Beth's expression softened, and she leaned over to clasp Rosa's hand, her touch warm and comforting. “We've lived so long in that little lane it kind of feels like it's all ours. But change is good. The fairies tell me Lavender Cottage is happy to have someone caring for it. Their faith in his good nature is enough for me.”

“So why the sudden change of heart?” Alanna stirred her coffee and clanked the spoon on the side of the cup.

“I've not been very upfront with either of you,” Rosa admitted, and at their puzzled expressions, she added, “You'll understand everything soon enough.”

It was as if Beth's fairies hovered in her stomach, their wings missing several beats. She twiddled with her fork, pushing mushrooms from one side of her plate to the other. It was time to reveal everything. She'd had two days to mull her future or lack thereof, and they deserved to know. She owed them an explanation.

“Well?” Both sisters chorused in unison when she paused to gather courage from the Goddess. “What is it?”

How exactly did she begin? “I've … I've been hearing things.”

“What kind of things?” Alanna popped a couple of painkillers into her mouth and knocked them back with a swig of coffee.

“You know … things that sound a lot like bells.”

It didn't sink in straight away. At first there were blank looks on both faces but, slowly, comprehension dawned. Alanna, despite her headache, was the swiftest to cotton on. First came the widening of her eyes, her pupils dilating as she sucked in a breath. “Witches' Warts! With knobs on!”

“Succinct as ever.” Rosa couldn't help the amused sarcasm slipping from her lips.

“Rosa!” Beth slopped coffee on the table and did nothing to mop it up. Tears sprung to her eyes. “How wonderful!”

If only Rosa, possessed Beth's trusting assurance, all would go well.

As for Alanna, the drama queen — well, her reaction was expected. “Bells!” Her sister's face was devoid of color for all of two seconds. She flushed brightly for a few moments, and then the color fled and she was paler than when she'd arrived at the café nursing a headache. Her hands curled into tight fists. Then, uncharacteristically, she uncurled her fingers and reached out to palm a hand over Rosa's raven hair.

Damned if that didn't make Rosa feel worse. Affection from Alanna was such a rare thing.

“Just so we're clear,” Alanna prodded, as if she had to hear the truth aloud to believe it. “You
do
mean the Marylebone Bells?”

“The usual kind for people like us.” Rosa shrugged her shoulders. “You know. Ding-dong. The wicked witch is … well … you know how it goes.”

Alanna threw herself back in her chair and stared at Rosa as if she had suddenly grown antennae. “Maybe you made a mistake. They don't ring for everyone. Only really powerful witches.”

“Your confidence in my lack of abilities is overwhelming.” Sarcasm filtered into her voice. It was always those nearest and dearest who criticized the most. “They were loud and clear. There was no mistaking what they were or what it means.”

“When? When did this happen?”

“Saturday night. Or, more accurately, the wee hours of Sunday morning during my usual contemplation with the Goddess.”

Alanna appeared awed and horrified all at once. She grasped Rosa's arm in a tight grip. “Why didn't you tell us straight away?”

Unable to articulate just how personal the entire experience had been, she simply said, “It's impossible to explain. I don't know if I can.” She really should have chosen a better place than a café to tell them. But she felt safer knowing Alanna was less likely to harass her in public. “I'm so unprepared. I needed time to think it through.”

Beth accepted what Rosa told them immediately. She beamed from ear to ear. “There'll be a marriage within the month. Your wedding tapestry is itching to be made.”

The possibility of Rosa having to yield her magic or become a Black Witch and flame out was, it seemed, furthermost from Beth's mind.

But it was not far from Alanna's. A born meddler, she took a more forthright and negative approach. Cheeks pale, her hazel eyes narrowed, she glared at Beth and then at Rosa. “We must take action.”

“No interference!” Rosa held up her palm to interrupt, knowing she was asking a lot. Beth would respect her wishes, and Rosa hoped she would temper Alanna's propensity to go off half-cocked, especially when distressed, excited, and sleep-deprived.

“I understand now.” The confidence in Beth's happy voice was unmistakable.

“You do?” Rosa's heart was in her throat. “Explain so I can understand too?”

“I've been having the weirdest dreams. Now I understand why.” Beth picked up her spoon and finished off the last of her coddled egg.

“Dreams?” Rosa's heart skipped a beat and fear lodged itself in her throat. “What dreams?”

“Everyone is keeping secrets,” Alanna harrumphed, a flash of envy lacing her words. “You with the bells and Beth with the dreams. I've had nothing. Not a thing, except that my damn sculpture isn't happening. My muse has up and left me all alone.”

Rosa repressed the urge to reprimand Alanna for her selfishness, but her focus was on Beth, whose dreams could be an important clue to finding her mate. She was a Spell Weaver. Future events often revealed themselves in dreams prior to her casting them into tapestries.

“The dreams haven't been clear. If you'd told me earlier, I might've made the connection. I would've put two and two together and saved you unnecessary worry.”

Alanna chewed on a piece of toast smeared with a heavy layer of jam, a clear indication to Rosa that her sister was upset. Alanna hated jam. “So, do you think Aden has something to do with it?”

“Maybe. I don't know. I can't see any magic in his aura. Just huge potential. But he did turn up within twenty-four hours of my hearing them.”

“He's definitely not a warlock,” Alanna said. “We'd know if he was.”

“But he has more potential than any other mortal I've ever met,” Beth echoed Rosa. “Oodles of it! He could very well be the one for you.”

Rosa shook her head in denial. She was not going to get her hopes up just yet. “He can't be. He's a drifter. A man of no fixed abode.”

Alanna's derisive snort cut through the room, turning a few heads in their direction. “A very rich, successful drifter. If you don't want him, tell him to drift up to my studio any time.”

“It's not what I want. It's what the bells want, and how am I supposed to know what that is?”

“Well, for a start, you can listen to me,” Beth interrupted.

Rosa leaned forward and gripped Beth's forearm. “Tell me everything.”

Beth smoothed Rosa's hand with her palm. “I've dreamed of a couple having to face the Fates. There will be sacrifice, acceptance, and redemption. The past will drop away, and new paths will be forged.”

“Clear as mud!” Alanna declared, her voice dripping sarcasm as thick as the jam on her toast.

“Acceptance of what?” Equally exasperated, Rosa dug for more information. “What in the name of the Goddess does redemption have to do with my future? I've lived in this small town my entire life. I don't need redeeming or acceptance. The sacrifice part doesn't sound so wonderful, either.”

“I don't try to understand the dreams. I allow the Fates to direct my tapestries. If your fate is met, and I know it will be, the future will be a joyous one. Embrace the bells and let them be your guide. I'll begin your wedding tapestry immediately. With time, the meaning will become clear.”

“I don't have time! I don't want to embrace anything. I want to live a happy, peaceful life with my family.”

Alanna, ever the not-so-tactful sister, went straight to the heart of the matter. “I thought your greatest wish was to become an Ascended Master and serve Marylebone Coven.”

Since her parents had been so cruelly taken to the Otherworld, Rosa's sole focus had been to study hard and develop her full talent as a witch. She should have been prepared to hear the bells. “It was a childhood dream.”

Their heritage was that of Witchery. Marylebone had recognized Rosa's growing power by ringing the bells. If the Fates were not met, being stripped of magic was as good as having her soul wrenched from her body. There would be no realization of her dream.

It had taken years of self-denial and sheer, single-minded determination to achieve every grade of magical status in the World Covens. She was the youngest ever, mortal witch to have done so. Now it looked as if it was make or break time.

“I'm happy with the way things are,” Rosa stated unequivocally, natural fear dampening any previous wishes and dreams.

“Life has changed for you, and that means for us as well,” Alanna stated bluntly. “You were worried about Aden entering our circle? What about having no circle at all? You want to bury your head in the sand and pretend nothing has happened?”

“I'm not doing anything so childish!”

“Well, what would you call it, then?”

“Fear,” said Beth softly. “If she doesn't find her mate within the month, then she will never wield magic again. You will not give up your magic, Rosa.” The reality had apparently hit Beth, and her voice shook when she stated, “I don't know how I know, but you will not give up your magic.”

Distress twisted Alanna's features into a fierce determination. “There must be a way.”

Silence descended around the table. Rosa fiddled with her cup. Alanna ate more toast with jam. Beth played with her cold eggshell.

“I will not fail,” Rosa insisted. She banged her fist on the table and her sisters jumped. “It's taken a long time to recover from Mom and Dad crossing over.” Alanna had been fourteen and difficult. Beth, twelve, lost and heartbroken. All three, grief-stricken. The responsibility had fallen on Rosa's young shoulders to hold her family together. She did not want to leave them behind to cope with her early passing as their parents had done.

Beth cupped Rosa's bunched fists in both her hands. “Don't go there. The only thing you need to do is work out which man to marry.”

“Without any available men, I'm not sure how.”

“We'll find you one.” A light sparked in Alanna's eyes, and she rubbed her palms together. “There's no warlock in Raven's Creek, but I can think of one or two suitable candidates with potential. You could scry for one.”

Rosa blanched. She felt violently ill at the thought. She had told them about the bells — she might as well reveal the rest. “I dropped my scrying bowl. It's broken beyond repair.” Tears welled in her eyes.

The silence was deafening. For the first time, Beth looked uncertain and her hands shook. “Broken! How?”

“I'm almost too embarrassed to say.” But tell them she did.

“And you got absolutely nothing when you scried Aden?”

“Nothing.”

“And the same for yourself?”

Rosa nodded. “Absolutely nothing. And now the bowl is gone.” She didn't need to explain. They understood exactly how deeply the loss would affect her life. There was nothing left except the memory. She would have to start afresh. Building the power in a new bowl to its previous level would take years.

“We'll help,” Alanna insisted.

Rosa stared at her sister in confusion. “What? How? There's nothing you can do.”

“We will find you a man.”

Rosa almost laughed. “Don't you think I've been looking? There's no one in Raven's Creek who's my equal.”

“Not in the township, I know. There must be one in the surrounding districts. Real men are what we need. Wimpy, ineffectual sops need not apply.”

“No,” Rosa protested, seeing the path her sister's mind was wandering down. “No!”

“Yes!” Alanna countered emphatically. Her eyes narrowed and she pursed her lips. “Beth's right. Don't discount Aden as a possibility. I know you didn't get anything from the scrying bowl, but he oozes potential! You know it.”

Guilty warmth stole into her cheeks. Alanna was right. Aden evoked in her a feeling of change, and she feared what that change might be. “This is my Bell, and it's tolling for me. So don't interfere. Got it?”

“There are other ways to generate interest.” Alanna ignored Rosa and slathered a thick layer of butter onto another piece of toast. She bit into it viciously and waved the rest of it at her. “I'm not going to sit around and do absolutely nothing while the Fates steal you away from us. We will apply to Marylebone Coven with a petition requesting they send us a warlock. While we're at it, we can get them to send a couple extras for two extremely attractive, almost as talented sisters.”

A bubble of mirth erupted from Beth. “We can't contact the Marylebone. No one contacts them; they contact us.”

“Why not?” Alanna stated. “It's an emergency! We can petition through Kowhai Coven.”

“No!” Rosa insisted. “This is the Bells of Marylebone we're talking about. Not even Kowhai can do anything to help me. Besides, this happens all the time to witches and warlocks alike.”

“Kowhai isn't high enough. It's a lowly sub-coven,” Beth reminded Alanna.

“Well, then, Marylebone is our best option.” Alanna was all fire and brimstone and no common sense. Rosa needed to extract a promise from her before she left the café, otherwise there was every possibility Alanna would concoct something truly diabolical.

“If you contact the coven, I'll turn you into a garden gnome for all eternity and place you in the pond next to your precious Gregori. I'm sure you and your dragon will be very happy together.”