Page 2 of Bonds of Blood
My mom and my familiar, two concepts that couldn’t have existed in the same space, and shouldn’t have. That alone should have blown my mind. For years I thought Mom was dead, and I didn’t even know that Satchel existed. And to have them both, and my friends, and my guardians, and my boyfriend, and so much more?
I was the luckiest guy in the Wispwood. I was the luckiest guy in the world.
Satchel shoved another bit of cake into his gullet, the corners of his mouth smeared with frosting. Sputtering and laughing, he leaned into my mother’s ear, whispering another stupid secret. She snorted, laughed, and cut him another perfect cube of cake, another cracker for the traitorous little parrot.
And I watched, smiling, as my family continued to grow.
Over by the lattices where the vines of the gardens climbed and thrived, I caught a glimmer of something flashing among the foliage. It wasn’t unusual to see all sorts of shiny objects throughout the grounds at the Wispwood, especially in the botanical gardens. A tiny compass dangling from a gardening imp’s backpack, maybe, or the polished bell hanging from the collar of someone’s cat familiar.
But the glint had come from a pair of glasses, a particular set that had stared down upon me over my many years at the academy and beyond. It was Dr. Euclidea Fang, my mentor and former professor, arms crossed as she leaned against one of the intricately carved wooden beams at the farthest end of the verandah.
I could tell that she wasn’t looking at me specifically, despite the glimmer of sunlight on the lenses of her glasses. There was a faint, almost distant smile on her lips as she watched the festivities. It was clear enough that she was happy for me. But it didn’t feel right, leaving her out of the fun.
I excused myself from the table and went over to invite her. I nearly laughed when Dr. Fang’s posture immediately straightened, her features rearranging as she discarded her smile, as if she didn’t want me seeing anything resembling a happy expression on her face.
Cold and calculating were only two of the words I used to lovingly describe my summoning mentor. She was cruel sometimes, too, but often just to prove a point in the classroom. I’d known her long enough to remember that there was a good heart waiting under that sadistic and super-intelligent woman’s hard, glassy exterior.
“Dr. Fang, would you care to join us? There’s plenty to eat and drink.” I scratched the back of my head, gazing sheepishly over my shoulder at the party. “To be honest, I think we ordered too much.”
The smile returned easily to her face as she adjusted her glasses. “Oh, that’s very kind of you, Lochlann. But this appears to be an occasion for your friends and family. I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
She flinched when I reached for her arm and encircled my fingers around her wrist. “Nonsense. You’re as good as family to me. Don’t laugh. It’s true. Come on.”
“Well,” she barked. “If you insist.” All pretense melted away. She smiled gratefully, no longer protesting as I pulled her back toward the tea party.
Still, there was a sort of bitter sweetness to Dr. Fang’s arrival. It meant that she was killing time, milling around the castle while waiting for the meeting that the headmasters had arranged. It was supposed to include both me and my mother. So many questions yet unanswered about the Wispwell, about why Marina Wilde had been sleeping in its waters for so long.
“We can talk about all that other stuff later,” I told Euclidea. She nodded in understanding, as if she was privy to all my thoughts.
“Later,” she said. “There will be time for all that later.”
I smiled as I handed her a clean cup and gestured at the many, many steaming pots of tea she could sample. As Euclidea heaped little sandwiches onto her plate, chuckled and chatted with the others, I quietly hoped that no one would say anything about unicorns.
2
I glancedaround at the glowing faces of the headmasters, their skin tinted in the light of enchanted lumps of amber, of bioluminescent plants. We sat around a great oak table, carved from the stump of an ancient tree, perhaps one of the original sentinels of the Wispwood.
This was the same chamber where we had that first meeting about my mother, not long after she emerged from the Wispwell. With their faces bathed in eldritch light, the headmasters looked more severe and more powerful than ever. And meanwhile, I shifted from one butt cheek to the other, unable to think of anything apart from a desperate need to pee.
I turned to my right, inspecting my mother’s face. How was she doing this? She must have downed what amounted to four buckets of water over afternoon tea — drinks and soups and desserts of all sorts. Maybe it was part of her undine constitution. All that liquid was certainly ending up somewhere. How come it wasn’t working the same for me?
Just another question to ask, in addition to all the others that the headmasters had in store for her.
Dr. Fang looked around the chamber. “I guess we’re all here,” she announced.
It was just the six of us: me, Euclidea, Marina, and the headmasters. Sylvain had politely declined to nag me about being excluded, knowing that this was primarily a conversation about my mother.
“Thank you for meeting with us today,” said Headmaster Cornelius Butterworth, the oldest of the three leaders of the Wispwood. And also the warmest, at least going by appearance. Cornelius was considered the most approachable of the headmasters, but he brought little of that warmth to the chamber. This must have been more serious than I thought.
“Yes, indeed. Thank you for coming to meet us.”
The second voice belonged to Headmaster Belladonna Praxis, sharp and severe, like the thorns of a rose, or the barbs of an iron gate. Belladonna was cold where Cornelius was hot, but none could be colder than the third headmaster. Not in terms of their temperament, in fact, but the very temperature and consistency of their body.
Headmaster Shivers couldn’t help it. They were, after all, a gaseous clump in humanoid form.
Clouds of indistinct vapor twisted within the empty cowl of their hooded robe, hands clasped before them as they sat in silence. They were covered in clothing from head to toe, invisible fingers kept safe inside a pair of embroidered silk gloves, unseen feet stepping solidly in a pair of matching boots. I couldn’t tell where Shivers was looking, but I knew they were listening intently.
“Is something the matter?” my mother asked. “I must confess, I’m getting a little nervous. Everyone looks so serious today.”
