‘Yes, dear.’
I stored that piece of information in my memory then groaned as I recalled telling Hilda on more than one occasion that her cooking was magic. She’d always grimaced and I’d thought that she had a problem accepting compliments like many women do; it was far easier to cling to our societally imposed low self-esteem. But no, Hilda was grimacing for a whole different reason.
‘I try and hire witches when I can,’ Mum said primly.
‘Because they’re better than anyone else?’ I asked cynically, prepared for her to wax lyrical about how much better witches were than peds or werewolves or vampires.
‘No, because it is so hard to earn an honest living these days. Centuries of persecution mean that witches instinctively stay hidden. We can’t play to our strengths, not unless we come to one of the supernat havens, like Portlock.’
‘Are there other places like this? In the UK, I mean?’
‘Of course! I’d love to take you to a few of them.’ Her eager smile faded. That wouldn’t be possible because Octavius would seize me for my one hundred years of conclave service if I set foot on UK soil. Officially I might be part of Connor’s group but I had no doubt that Octavius would do anything to get me under his control again.
And after the one hundred years were up? By then my mum would be six feet under. There would be no mummy and daughter daytrips to British supernat havens in our future and we both knew it. ‘We’ll have to enjoy Portlock,’ I said finally.
She nodded. ‘Yes, I’ve heard so much about this town. I’m excited to meet its covens.’
‘Do you belong to a coven?’ I asked curiously.
She gave a brisk nod. ‘I do. Actually, I lead all the covens in the United Kingdom.’
I sputtered. You didn’t get to lead all the witches in the UK without stepping on some toes, so no doubt she’d made some powerful enemies. It was making more and more sense that my being turned was not about me but about her.
I desperately wanted to ask her about it but I couldn’t figure out a way that didn’t sound accusatory, and I didn’t want to make her feel like I thought it was her fault. I put that aside – for now – but, man, the blows kept coming.
‘How did you keep that a secret?’ I demanded.
‘You thought I did a lot of charity work and I do, but it’s all related to my duties as High Priestix.’
That made sense. I’d been hurt by how often she’d been away; for a stay-at-home mum, she was never home. But if she were heading all the UK covens, she’d have to travel a lot. It didn’t alleviate my sense of being unwanted and unloved, but at least it explained some of it. And maybe that was what all her social climbing had been about: a way of covering up her real activities? Maybe she’d really been encouraging me to mix with supernat children?
Before I could ask, my phone rang. I glanced down, expecting it to be Gunnar with another issue, but it was Liv. Why was she calling me? I swiped it open. ‘Liv. How are you?’
‘Peachy,’ she said abruptly. ‘Did your mother make it into town?’
I frowned. ‘Yes, I didn’t know you knew she was coming.’
‘Of course I did. I invited her,’ she said stridently. ‘I didn’t know she was your mom at the time, I only realised when she told me she wouldn’t be staying at the Portlock Hotel with the others. Why did you never mention you had a witch mother? Ashamed?’
It felt like the walls were closing in on me. Liv had invited my mum here. Mum wasn’t here to see me and confess her deepest, darkest secret face to face; she was here to see Liv. I felt such an idiot. Even with my mother’s confessions, I’d somehow hoped that she was here for me, for us to build something. Instead the heat in my gut told me that I was a consolation prize, like always.
‘No,’ I snarled, taking out some of my anger on Liv. ‘I would never have been ashamed of having a witch as mother.’ If I’d known. I looked at my mother and met her eyes. ‘You invited her to Portlock?’ I repeated, letting my hurt show on my face.
Mum flinched.
‘Yes,’ Liv said impatiently. ‘I told you I’d called the four most powerful elemental witches in the world to come help with the barrier gems.’
‘Yes, you did. Here she is.’ I handed over my phone.
‘Elizabeth…’ Mum said, her tone pleading.
I turned and left the room. I was fresh out of fucks to give.
Chapter 7
I stroked Fluffy whilst he whined softly in concern. His warmth and visible love helped soothe the dull ache in my heart. Shadow darted in, jumped into my lap and purred loudly as if my pain called to him, as if his acceptance of me could somehow eradicate it. Maybe it could.
I stroked his fur, burying my hands in the softest blanket known to man. I wanted to fall apart; indeed, I was poised to do so and it took everything in me not to. That’s what Mum would expect of me. Bunny the mess. Bunny the fuck up.