My temper sparks. “Get your old hag off mine!”
“Just you wait,” Dru yells. “You’re going to get a curse doll with your name on it, bitch. A dozen curse dolls!” She grabs another handful of sandwiches and tosses them in Livia’s direction.
“I’m not afraid of you,” Livia sneers. “I’ve got an evil-eye amulet waiting for just this sort of occasion. You’ll be sorry, Drusilla Magnus. Wait and see.”
A fleet of waiters heads in our direction, and I decide it’s time to extricate us from the situation. “Okey dokey,” I say, grabbing Dru’s hand before she can fling another round of sandwiches at her rival. “I think it’s time for us to head home. We’re leaving,” I say to the waiter nearest us before he can call the police. “We’re leaving right now, I swear.”
“Filth,” Dru shrieks at the top of her lungs as I escort her toward the exit, followed by a half dozen frowning waiters. “You’re nothing but filth, Livia Germanicus! FILTH!” The tirades continue until we make it outside, and immediately, Dru straightens. She fixes her mussed clothing, adjusts her hair, and then pulls out her wallet and hands a wad of bills to the nearest waiter. “I apologize for my outburst. Please share this with your fellow waitstaff and let them know I appreciate them, even if they have to serve that pile of vomit named Livia.”
“I’ll call you a car, Ms. Magnus,” the closest waiter says, his expression unruffled. “Please don’t reenter the restaurant.”
“Of course not,” Dru says with a sniff. “She’s still in there.”
The moment we’re left alone, I just shake my head at Dru. “Why did I think this would be a friendly lunch?”
“Eh. We always start off cordial and end up . . . here.” She waves her hand back and forth, her expression calm. “Tossing food at each other’s faces.”
“And you have lunch with them? Often?”
“Often enough.”
“Do all of the lunches end up like that?”
I could swear Dru’s eyes twinkle with amusement. “Often enough.”
12
BEN
Aunt Dru’s library is bigger than mine. It makes sense, of course. She’s been alive for two thousand years, so of course she’d have time to acquire many more books and scrolls. It’s one reason why I spend so much time at her house instead of mine. In addition to her robust library, she also tends to have a familiar to do the grunt work for her, whereas I go without one for very long periods of time. Even though her last familiar, Lisa, didn’t care for me much, if I gave her a task list, she always finished it, even if she was a bit lazy. Lisa also hinted that when she returned from maternity leave, if I didn’t have a familiar, she’d be interested in tackling the job, but I don’t plan on taking her up on it. As far as I’m concerned, her loyalty would always be first and foremost to my aunt. And while that’s commendable, there are also certain things one doesn’t want a parent or guardian knowing about them.
I tell myself it’s for convenience’s sake that I decide to stay at my aunt’s for a while longer instead of returning home to Boston. It has nothing to do with her familiar. I truly should leave, because Reggie loathes me and has made that quite clear. Maybe that’s the reason I decide to work on my next project at my aunt’s house instead of my own. There’s an almost sinful pleasure in needling Reggie, watching her flush with anger.
I’m used to people hating me. It doesn’t bother me that she does.
Much.
So I find myself in the city for a few more days. Since I am, I visit my favorite rare bookseller. I flip through the books piled on the table set aside for me. He’s found a few rare tomes for me that I need to peruse before I decide to purchase them or not. I’ve barely opened the first one when my phone buzzes with a text. I’m waiting to hear back from my Silicon Valley contact, so I glance over at the screen.
W S: Your aunt is out of control.
Willem.
I pick the phone up and stare at the screen, wondering if I should answer. If I even want to know. With a weary sigh, I close the three-hundred-year-old transcription of Greek medical papyri and text Willem back.
B. MAGNUS: Dare I ask?
W S: She picked a fight with Livia at lunch. Is she insane?
B. MAGNUS: You have to ask?
W S: You’re right. I already know the answer to that. Livia has been holed up in her laboratory for hours. I’m afraid whatever she does to get revenge on Drusilla is going to be extremely unpleasant. Consider yourself warned.
B. MAGNUS: Noted. Thank you for the heads-up.
So much for a relaxing afternoon of study. I gesture at the books I haven’t had a chance to look through. “I’ll take all of them.” If nothing else, I suppose I can have them shipped to Boston to build my library.
A short time later, I return to my aunt’s house, my arms full of the carefully packaged rare tomes. The vacuum is roaring in the library, and Aunt Dru is nowhere to be found. Maurice is on the bottom step of the stairs, regarding me.
“Is it bad?” I ask the cat.
His tail flicks once.
I nod. That’s bad. I set the books down on the nearest table and head for the library. I should probably find my aunt first and get her side of the story, but I find myself pulled toward the library by the sound of vacuuming. I know it has to be Reggie. Aunt Dru has never cleaned a thing in her life. I’m surprised she even owns a vacuum. Following the noise, I open the library double doors.
And stop, horrified.
My aunt’s library is a thing of beauty. Two floors deep, it’s wall-to-wall books, with elegant wooden ladders to assist in reaching the higher-up shelves. Magical items are artfully sandwiched between the books here and there, and scrolls are shoved into every single extra space. There are a few chairs for seating and a table by the window, but other than that, there are books on every surface possible. Is it messy? Yes. Dusty? Absolutely. But it’s also a treasure trove of objects, and half of the beauty is wandering through the shelves, hunting for old treatises or pharmacology sourcebooks. I’m a warlock. Dust is part of the job.
Reggie stands in the middle of the library, the vacuum racing and blaring. She has her back to me, her hair pulled up in a messy knot, and she has on a pair of tight nylon men’s shorts and another one of those gym shirts, with NICK’S PERSONAL FITNESS emblazoned across the shoulders. Around her are stacks of books and papyri, scrolls and artifacts, all pulled from their homes on the shelves. The shelves themselves are emptied of their contents, the mountain in the center of the room surprisingly small considering how much reading material is stuffed in here.
She keeps vacuuming, moving in quick, brisk motions, as if unaware of my presence.
“Reggie,” I call out.
My aunt’s familiar keeps on vacuuming.
“Reggie,” I say again, louder, as she runs the vacuum over a priceless fourteenth-century rug that’s probably being held together by dust mites. She continues to ignore me, so I move to the light switch and flick the power off.
She screams, nearly making me jump out of my skin. When I turn the lights on again, she shuts the vacuum off and pulls two earbuds out of her ears. “What the fuck, Magnus?”
I gesture at the stacks of books, letting my horror show. “What is this?”
Reggie lifts her chin at me, ever defiant. “Your aunt wants me to assist her, right? I can assist her a lot easier if everything is located in its proper place. This library is a mess and needs organizing, so that’s what I’m doing.”
“This library has been organized like this for nearly a hundred years. No one is going to be able to find anything if you move it all.”
She hesitates, her gaze sliding to the stacks on the floor. I can see the reluctance move over her face, and then it quickly disappears. “It’s a mess in here,” she continues, though her tone is less brave. “It’s going to be helpful to have things organized. You’ll see. My way is better.”