Page 30 of The Water Witch (Fairwick Chronicles 2)

Diana and Liz exchanged a guilty look. “Not exactly. We told him you had an unusual energy signature and had short-circuited our circle. He was…intrigued.”

Great, I thought, Liz had made me sound like an interesting lab rat. But what difference did it make what Duncan Laird thought of me? The important thing was to gain enough power to bring Brock back from Niflheim and keep the door open.

“Have you heard anything more from the governing board of IMP?” I asked on the porch.

Liz sighed. “I spoke last night to Lydia Markham at Mount Holyrood. She’s always been a great supporter of the fey, butshe was evasive when I asked how she planned to vote. Then I did a little snooping on the web and discovered that an anonymous benefactor has just given a huge bequest to fund a new science lab for Mount Holyrood. I hate to say it, but I’m afraid Lydia’s vote might have been bought.”

“That’s awful,” I said. “But there are still two more members of the board who are pro-fey, aren’t there?”

“Yes, Talbot Greeley in literature at Bard. He’s an Irish cluricaune who did his DMA dissertation on the fey influence on Shakespeare. And Loomis Pagan, a pixy in gender studies at Wesleyan. I think we can count on Talbot, but I’m not sure of Loomis. To tell you the truth, I never understand a word she’s saying. Even if she speaks up for the fey her argument is likely to be so incoherent that she’ll do our case more harm than good.” Liz got into her car, shaking her head. “Our best bet is to make sure that, no matter how the vote goes, you can prevent them from closing the door.”

After Liz drove away, I stood on the porch, thinking about what I could do to help. It didn’t sound as if we were going to be able to count on support from IMP. If only we knew for sure what the Grove was up to…Then I remembered Ididhave a source at the Grove who might be able to help. I went inside and called Jen Davies.

Jen Davies was the freelance reporter who had exposed my roommate Phoenix’s memoir as fraudulent last year. I later learned that she belonged to the Grove (and that she felt bad about her treatment of Phoenix). After I was initiated into the Grove, Jen confided to me that she and a group of other young members had formed a splinter group, called Sapling, that questioned the ultraconservative policies of the Grove. If anyone could tell me more about what the Grove was intending to do next week when they came to Fairwick, it would be Jen.

I reached her voicemail and left a message asking her to callme back. Then I stood in my foyer wondering what to do next. Even with Bill’s ministrations, the house still needed cleaningandI needed to do that reading before my new tutor showed up. I suddenly felt exhausted and unable to choose which I preferred: for Duncan Laird, DMA, to think I was a slob or an idiot? Of course, he was bound to be impressed when I showed him the Aelvestone…

The Aelvestone. With a guilty start, I realized I hadn’t told Liz or Diana about it. How could I have forgotten? I must have been too distracted by their news about my tutor. I should call and tell them now…but first I should check on the stone to make sure it was still okay.

I went upstairs to my bedroom and opened the drawer where I’d put it last night. The drawer was empty.

I’ve just forgotten which drawer it’s in, I told myself, my heart beating faster. I opened all the little drawers. Shells, stones, feathers…all the little oddments I kept, but no Aelvestone. There was only one drawer left: the one in which I kept the key to Liam’s manacles, but that one was locked. It couldn’t be there…

I got out the key from my night table and opened the locked drawer. There between the two iron keys—mine and Dahlia’s—lay the Aelvestone, the flannel cloth folded neatly beneath it.

How the hell had it gotten there?I wondered, lifting the stone and cradling it in my hand. The only explanation I could imagine was that I’d gotten up some time in the night and moved it. Only I had no memory of doing that. As far as I knew, I’d spent the night making love to Liam in Faerie…but at the end of the dream he had handed me the Aelvestone and told me to lock it up. Maybe Ihadgotten up then and moved it. It was disturbing not to remember doing it, but I’d heard of people on certain sleeping pills getting up and doingstrange things they couldn’t recall later—and last night the Aelvestone had certainly acted like a powerful narcotic.

I looked at the stone in my hand and wrapped my fingers around it experimentally, waiting to see if it made me sleepier. Instead I felt a surge of energy. The fogginess I’d felt since waking vanished. Strange, I thought. Maybe something in the books Liz had given me would explain the effects of Aelvesgold.

I slipped the stone in my pocket and went downstairs to the kitchen, where I’d left the books, and took them into the library to read.

The library had been my favorite room in the house when I’d first moved in. What book lover doesn’t dream of having an entire room dedicated to their books? Mine had floor-to-ceiling built-in bookcases crowned with classical molding and brass lamps above each section, and brass nameplates on each shelf which held little cards to identify that shelf’s subject (not that I’d gotten around to filling out the cards). It also had a fireplace, a comfortable couch, and a small television. Liam and I had practically lived in here last winter, building fires, watching old movies, making love on the couch…

Which was why I hadn’t spent much time in here since. The room had acquired a sad, derelict air—dust floating in the air, ashes in the fireplace, the sofa cushions askew and deflated. I sank down on the couch and stroked the nap of the velour, inhaling the scent of scotch and ash and…No, I couldn’t smell Liam anymore. I reached my hand into my pocket and cradled the Aelvestone. He had said in the dream that Aelvesgold could connect true lovers…but I didn’t feel connected right now. Maybe that’s why I hadn’t been able to love him. We weren’ttrue lovers. But then why couldn’t I stop thinking about him? And why did Iwantto love him so much?

Sighing, I settled down on the couch with the books, opened up LaFleur, and read a hundred pages.

In about ten minutes.

The words seemed to fly into my brain. I’d never believed in speed reading, but this didn’t feel like speed reading. I hadn’t skimmed. I had a complete and thorough understanding of the history of magic from the Iron Age to the twenty-first century. I could list all the major witches during that time period (Queen Elizabeth I and Eleanor Roosevelt, who knew?) and name the dates of all the major wars, treaties, council rulings, and grimoire editions. And I had a firm grasp of the differences between practical and sympathetic magic.

All in ten minutes.Wow!This stuff was better than the Adderal my freshman roommate had given me during finals week.

I picked up Wheelock’sSpellcraftand committed the first hundred spells to memory.

In five minutes.

But had I really absorbed all that information?

I decided to give myself a little quiz.

“Flagrante ligfyr,”I pronounced.

The candles on top of the mantel burst into flame, then sputtered and went out. Ralph, who had been napping behind the Oxford English Dictionary, poked his nose out and wiggled his whiskers at the smoke.

Okay, so my magic was still a bit erratic. What had Liz said—that my energy signature was unusual?Huh. Right now my energy signature felt just fine. I tried an air-moving spell.

“Ventus pyff!”

---