Page 52 of Alpha's Magic

It was all conjecture, but Asher thought Rozamond had put something horrible and unexpected in the potion my mother made for my father that night. If he’d taken it and turned into a beast, then Rozamond could have killed him and said it was self-defense. She may not have done anything to me that night—she would have bided her time a bit.

Only I got in the way and took the potion myself and that’s when everything went so terribly wrong. My mother had been shocked and horrified at what she’d done to her child and when my father couldn’t change me back and attacked her in his grief and rage, Rozamond had felt perfectly justified in killing him.

With her husband stabbed to death in front of her and her child turned into a monster, her mind had collapsed. Later, Rozamond and the servants participated in a cover-up that accused my father of killing himself and his family. She had more than likely paid the servants well to back up her story. By this point, Rozamond must have realized my mother had totally lost it and she wasn’t coming back from any of this. It was she who arranged for her to be hidden away, first in the attic, and then at Amalinia’s home.

As for me, I ran away, and Rozamond made sure no one looked for me very hard. She probably thought I’d die of exposure or shock in a short time, and if it hadn’t been for Grimora, she would have been right. She must have been totally surprised when she came to Igella for her brother Chandler’s engagement to Brandon and learned that Brandon had spent time in a cave with a “monster” named Banshira, who had strangely shown up and been taken in by the wizard Grimora just ten years earlier. It wasn’t long after she found out until she sent her men to investigate and then raze the nearby village and blame it on the monster Banshira, hoping the populace of Igella or Lex himself would blame the monster and take care of her problem once and for all.

Asher and I stayed up late that night talking about it and trying to make sense of it all, until I was so tired I could no longer keep my eyes open. Outside the storm had finally hit and it was raging. We’d made ourselves a bed by the fireplace in my father’s study, and I snuggled into his arms, numb but happy that we were safe and dry. He held me as I fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

It was the muttering that woke me up a few hours later. A low, resonant sound, a little like the distant rumble of thunder. I raised my head to see an old woman squatting by a fire, wearing a tattered white nightdress. For one horrible moment I thought it was the ghost, but then I realized I was looking at a solid figure.

She was scattering some powders over the flames that hissed when they hit. An evil smelling smoke was slowly spreading over the room. It was her voice as she chanted that I’d heard, along with the powders sizzling as they hit the fire. I could barely make out the woman’s hunched figure through the gray pall of smoke that hung heavy in the air in the darkened room. I gasped and reached for Asher, but he lay on his back, his eyes open but rolled back in his head. He looked like he was dead.

It scared me so much that I cried out and she turned to look at me.

“Ludwig? Is that you? Hush now, or you’ll wake him.”

I shook Asher hard, and he moaned a little, so at least I knew he was still alive. I sobbed with relief and turned back to her. The rain outside was still beating down on the roof, and the wind was howling. My face must have looked wild, too, because she blanched and drew back.

“What have you done to him?” I raised my hand menacingly over my head, intending to do whatever it took to make her comply. “Undo it now!”

“But I have to kill him, dear, don’t you see? He means to take this house away from us. I can’t let that happen. Rozamond said…”

“Rozamond is dead!”

She turned to look at me and I got a good look at her in the firelight. She wasn’t as old as I’d first thought. Her hair was gray and thin, but her eyes though pale blue, were bright and shiny. They also were blank. Her face was burned in places, as were her hands. It was lined beyond her years and she looked tired and sick. Her gown was soaked through, and she was shivering.

“No, Ludwig, you must be mistaken. I saw Rozamond just the other day.”

“I’m not Ludwig, and Rozamond is dead and in her tomb. She was a vile human being. She killed my father.”

“I don’t understand what you mean.” She reached behind her for a goblet full of red liquid and tried to hand it to me. “Drink this. It will calm you.”

I dashed it from her hands, and she drew back, looking confused. “Why are you so angry? Be quiet or you’ll wake up Leo. He’s sleeping in his room.”

“Mother, I am Leo. Please try to focus on what I’m saying.”

“First let me finish what I started,” she said, and drew back her hand. I could feel the magic in her then, swirling around inside her, restless and tumultuous. The magic called to me in a dark, seductive voice, inviting me to join in with her and finish this thing once and for all. For one awful fraction of a moment, it seemed so reasonable.

Then I shook myself and pushed the horrible thought away from me as hard as I could. I saw her fall backward too and then stagger to her feet. She drew back her hand again, her fingertips sparkling with unholy fire, and I knew she was seconds away from hurling it at him as he lay helpless on the floor.

“No!” I screamed, and I gave her a push with my magic, intending only to make her step away and leave him alone. She fell backward on the floor instead, her mouth falling open in surprise.

Beside me, Asher was struggling to sit up, and I turned first to him, helping him to rise. “Asher!” I shouted. “It’s Rowena—she’s here to kill you. We have to get out of here.”

I heard a noise behind me as the door was wrenched open, and Rowena ran out past us. She seemed to be gasping for air as she ran out into the hallway. After a moment I heard the front door slam behind her.

My attention was all on Asher. I got him to his feet and led him, staggering, from the smoky room. Whatever she’d put on the fire was thick and oily on my skin and clogged my nostrils. I knew we had to get out of that room.

I don’t know how I managed to lead him from there, but somehow, I did. We went down the hallway to the main entryway, where the door was still hanging open, but at least the cold wind was blowing into the house, clearing out some of the noxious smoke. I stood in the doorway with my arm around Asher until he recovered enough to move on his own. Then we made our way back to the barn, where Asher’s horse was still stabled. At least we were away from the oppressive atmosphere in that house.

I took us back to our stall and made a fire to warm us. Asher wrapped his arms around me, when I sat down beside him, but it was a long time before I managed to calm down.

In the morning, after a long night, Asher went back into the house for his packs and the few books I’d wanted to take with me. He said there was no sign of anyone inside and coaxed me into going back in with him to find some food for our breakfast. He also talked me into taking a nap by the parlor fireplace, and when I awoke, I felt much better, though still drained of energy.

Around mid-morning, John Trask showed up and told Asher he needed to speak to him outside. When Asher returned, he looked solemn. He took my hand and told me that a woman—Trask had called her Amalinia’s lodger—had been found early that morning on the road. She had run out into the rain in her nightdress and been overcome by the cold and the storm and had died during the night.

“The poor woman wasn’t right in the head,” Trask said. “Still, it’s a terrible shame.”

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