Witch Upon a Star (A Midnight Magic Mystery) (5 page)

He returned the gesture.

“Thank you.”

“No,
mo chuisle
… thank
you
.”

And that was how Anna S. Olmstead died, and Anna Asher was reborn.

In love.

age 11
paris, france

“Again!”

I attempted to get
en pointe
, but with the shooting pain from my big toe up to my hip, not to mention the pain I woke with in my stomach and lower back, the act was next to impossible. I groaned in frustration. “I can’t,” I shouted in French. “It hurts!”

“Then you may as well quit now, little one,” my instructor Collette responded with a sneer. “Your form is terrible anyway.”

“It is not,” I spewed back. “Maybe you’re a terrible teacher.”

“Or you’re not practicing enough because you’re a spoilt, lazy, bratty
child
.”

Oh, how I wished to hex her right then, mostly for that last word. I was no child.
Child.
I was a world traveler. I spoke Arabic, Spanish, and French. I was the most advanced pupil my magic tutor had ever encountered, or so she told Asher. I had a season pass to both the opera and the ballet, for goodness sake. How many eleven-year-olds could claim that? How many adults? And how dare she insult me, and on my birthday no less?

“Better a child than a past my prime has-been like you.”

Collette’s pouty mouth dropped open, but no sound escaped. It was an easy jab, too easy but it completed the job. Oh, I loathed that woman. I loathed her gorgeous full lips, her decade on me, her talent, but especially her effortless flirting directed at
my
Asher. Every time I watched her demure smiles and the light touches of his chest whenever they spoke, I cringed. It was a dagger to my heart, especially when he matched her smile for smile, touch for saccharine touch. I could almost tolerate that, almost, but her quick temper, her cruel words whenever I failed, and the chip on her shoulder about my seeming wealth and privileged upbringing gave me a sense she had similar roots to mine. I’d thought of getting her fired, but with Asher’s concerns of letting too many people into our inner circle and her credentials, I knew it’d be an all but impossible sell. The only other option was ceasing the lessons, and I just couldn’t. Ballet was my favorite activity even before fencing and magic lessons. I loved how my body stretched, how I could interpret music into a physical entity with my body, how graceful I felt not only while dancing, but even as I walked.

I just
hated
Mademoiselle Collette. The only blight in my otherwise picture perfect new life. The only threat.

“You …” Her mouth shut and for a moment I believed I’d won the round, that is until a cruel grin formed. “Well, your
Papa
does not think me past my prime or pathetic. He proved as much last night. In my bed.”

“He’s not my—” I caught myself. I was under strict orders not to dispel the misconception Asher was my father. Fewer questions and prying eyes that way. I almost forgot in my anger. “You lie.”

But I knew she hadn’t. It was as plain as the bruise on her neck barely concealed by make-up. After our fencing lesson, Asher claimed he had to call on an old friend, which was odd, because Asher went out of his way to avoid his own kind those early years. It was dangerous for us both. I had to learn vampiric law in those first days in Toronto. While there was no law expressly against children, save for not turning them before age thirteen, I lacked the protection afforded consorts and familiars. The mere fact I even knew about the existence of vampires could result in a death sentence for us both in some territories. I was fair game. So if we ever did run into an old friend at the opera or theater, I’d be introduced as my governess Clifton’s granddaughter. He’d been with us since Cairo when it was decided I needed a daytime guardian. I was expecting Sherlock’s Mrs. Hudson or even an older Jane Eyre, and instead got a portly, dandy, fifty-something Englishman. Asher knew Clifton during his tenure with some vampire Lord, wrote the dandy, and a week later I had a new male governess. Not only did Clifton run the household, he instructed me in Latin and English, did all our shopping, escorted me around town, and taught Asher to cook. Having lived almost eight hundred years, Asher had mastered almost every skill imaginable but never cooking. It took almost a month before he created something edible, but by Paris he’d surpassed his tutor. If not for the dancing and fencing I’d have weighed two hundred pounds. As I stared at the usurper of my Asher’s attention and love, I wondered if he cooked for her as well.

“We’ve been lovers for a week now,” she said with a triumphant smirk. Asher was in love with
her
? This? He deserved better. So much better. I was so angered my stomach and lower back ached harder. “Once we made love in this very room. He took me against the
barre
you touch now.” My hand involuntarily jerked from the abomination. “And we have no intention of stopping.” The bitch took a step toward me. The agony in my back ratcheted up another notch. “And wouldn’t it be wonderful if I became your new Mama? Of course we’d require some time alone to truly get to know one another. Years perhaps. A Catholic boarding school might be just what you need. They’d whip the brat right out of you. God how I wished to do it myself, but—”

My pain momentarily vanished as I sucked the magic into me, releasing it into the air like shrapnel. A gust of gale force wind knocked my tutor flat on her nonexistent derri
é
re. She skidded on the hardwood floor for five feet until thwacking into the far wall hard enough to leave a dent. I watched all this, mouth agape, afraid to move or even blink in case it happened again. I knew I’d done it but didn’t know how. I hadn’t meant to. Truly. I always had to focus on the magic, the words, what I hoped to accomplish while casting. Control. I had control. But with Collette …

We stared across the room at one another with equally wide eyes, both sets growing with shock and fear. Neither of us moved or spoke for several seconds with the only sound coming from our panting. “What—ow!” she shrieked as she gripped her right wrist. The knot in my stomach tightened with her every howl of pain.

“What is going on?” Clifton asked before he opened the door.

“W … we don’t know. She … she just fell,” I managed to get out as he walked in.

“My wrist. I think it’s broken,” Collette sobbed.

“I’ll take you to hospital,” Clifton said as he helped her rise. “Anna, collect her things.”

As I gathered her coat and purse, Clifton escorted her through our
pied-à-terre.
Asher purchased the whole building eons before my grandmother’s grandmother was born and rented out the flats save for the one we inhabited, which on occasion a vampire friend might arrange to use. I discovered this was a standard arrangement in almost every major city worldwide. A port in every storm. So far I’d spent three months in his Cairo flat, nine in a Gaudi building he purchased in Barcelona before we laid down roots in France. The Paris flat was by far my favorite, with bay windows that overlooked the
Champs de Lyses,
antique furniture upholstered in real French silk, and a library of books no longer in print. The dance studio was the newest addition, something he built just before we moved in. The man fulfilled my wishes even before I knew I had them.

“I … I don’t know what happened,” Collette whimpered as Clifton helped her with her coat. “There was this gust of wind and … and …”

“Ghosts,” I blurted out. “Maybe it was a ghost. This place is really old.”

Clifton’s small brown eyes narrowed at me, but Collette nodded. “Maybe.”

“Let’s go,” Clifton barked. He all but pushed Collette out the door, kicking it closed behind them. I jerked when it slammed. He knew. He knew it was my fault, which meant when Asher rose, he would as well. I’d broken the cardinal rule: never use magic around non-supernaturals. It wouldn’t matter if the act was intentional or not. If word got out, the infraction could be punishable by death. Potentially both our deaths. Not that this fact scared me that much. No, I was petrified I’d be cast out for maiming his lover. That he’d hate me forever. That he’d finally realize I wasn’t worth his effort. That I
was
damaged goods and no amount of love or guidance would ever change that. The anger, the melancholy, the anxiety that had been gnawing almost literally inside me for two days reached its climax.

I burst into tears, which shocked me further. I never cried, especially not these hard, wracking sobs I feared would never stop. I had to leave. I could not breathe in the flat. Still dressed in my pink leotard and ballet shoes, I simply threw on my pea coat and scarf before fleeing onto the streets of Paris. Away froom my crime.

The bitter cold wind sliced over my skin like razor blades as I ran down the
Champs
. I worried my tears would freeze to my cheeks. I had no plan, but after five minutes, I knew I had to get inside somewhere before hypothermia set in. With the one Franc in my pocket, I purchased a ticket to a double feature of
Harold & Maude
and
The Owl and The Pussycat
. Not that I could concentrate on the screen. My intestines still felt as if someone were twisting them in their fists, and ever-increasing anxiety kept me wound up like a clock. Or a time bomb.

He wouldn’t really send me to an orphanage. After that first night the threat was never made again. Boarding school, on the other hand, was a real possibility. Clifton suggested it once or twice in passing when Asher expressed concern about my lack of friends. The finest education, being surrounded by girls my own age, making connections to the who’s who of European society. Perhaps someday I could become a Duchess or even a Princess just like Grace Kelly. Wouldn’t I like that? I just glared at my governess. But the idea was planted, and because of my one slip, there was a true threat of it sprouting. The thought of being shipped off brought fresh tears. Some birthday. Asher planned to prepare my favorite meal, chicken carbonara, then we’d go see the ballet
Sleeping Beauty
. Instead, I was alone in a smoky movie theater falling apart over an accident and terrified to go home.

Then I began to die.

Between films, I went to the lavatory. When I noticed the blood in my panties I almost fainted. I was bleeding internally. The three fold rule had struck with a vengance. I’d broken Collette’s wrist and as punishment my internal organs burst. There was only a little spot in my underwear, so maybe it wasn’t that bad. Except for the aching in my back and I assumed intestines, I felt fine. Asher. He’d know what to do. He always knew what to do. Really I just wanted him to hold me and hug the fear away. I just wanted
him.

The moment I stepped back into our flat, both he and Clifton pounced. “Where have you been?” Asher snapped. “We have been out of our minds with worry. You know to leave a note.”

“I know. I didn’t think. I’m sorry,” I said, head bowed.

“You should be,” Clifton said. “Not just for that. Your teacher has two broken bones.”

“I’m sorry,” I said again. “It was an accident.”

“You do not accidently send a person flying across a room with enough force to break bones,” Asher said.

“Well, I did!” I shouted back. “Okay? I didn’t mean to, but I did. She was saying horrible things about marrying you and sending me away then the wind blew her across the room! I didn’t mean to, okay? I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

I couldn’t take those disappointed blue eyes of his a moment longer. I rammed past the men and ran to my room, slamming the door shut and falling face first onto my bed. I couldn’t stop the tears then. I sobbed into my pillow like the pathetic little girl I felt like. That perhaps I was. I heard Sven’s voice in my head. “Stop your sniveling, you little brat. You’re descended from Vikings, act like it.”

What was the matter with me?

He knocked before entering, but I couldn’t look up. I was too ashamed and embarrassed. I’d never cried in front of him before. Never had cause to. Judging from the way he asked, “Are you alright?” he was as unnerved by my actions as I was.

“No,” I cried into my pillow. The bed shifted as Asher sat beside me. “You … you’re going to send me away because I used magic, and I hurt your girlfriend. I didn’t mean to. I really truly didn’t, I swear.”

“I believe you,” he said, gently petting my hair. I loved when he did that. It was so soothing, like warm waves lapping against my bare feet. “And I am not sending you away.”

I sat up to check for subterfuge, instead finding compassion and
even a smile. Like an addict, that one fix made everything a little better. “Really?” I sniffled. “But wh … what?”

“Truly. It would be like banishing my soul from my body, leaving naught but an empty shell. I existed like that for decades before I met you, I could not bear it again,
mo chuisle.
Never.”

“Wh … what if I died?”

His eyes narrowed. “What sort of question is that for one so young?” He studied my pitiful face as his nose twitched twice. A second later a tender smile crossed his face. “You are bleeding. Is it coming from between your legs?” I nodded and his smile grew. He pulled me into his arms as he chuckled. “Oh, Anna. You are not dying. Quite the opposite. You have blossomed.”

“I’ve what?”

“You have become a woman. I believe the modern parlance is you have gotten your period. Surely your mother or someone must have told you …” I shook my head no against his chest. “It means you can now bear children and every month you do not, you shall bleed as you are now. It is the most natural occurrence there is.” He began petting my hair again. “There are some unfortunate side effects, which is why you have been out of sorts the past few days. And it also explains what happened with Collette today. You are now a High Priestess. You commanded the wind to push her. I suppose she was lucky there was not a fire nearby. You might have burnt her to death.”

“I didn’t mean to. I just … she was being so cruel. It just happened.”

“We shall begin working on gaining control right away.”

“Okay. And the other stuff, the bleeding, can I get control of that too? Can I stop it?”