I curl up on the couch, following along. I’m not entirely sure what this has to do with her curse, but I listen anyhow.
She looks over at me and her expression grows soft. “Caliban isn’t like me. He’s not suited for endless years of solitude. He doesn’t have anyone to fall back upon. He’s always been an island alone, even surrounded by people. I blame his parents for that.” She sighs. “I never had children of my own, but my sister did. Caliban’s mother was my great-grandniece, and the moment he was born, she abandoned him. He grew up unloved and forgotten. I did my best to step in, but I feel as if that loneliness has just covered him like a cloak, always. He doesn’t get along with others in witch society, you know. After growing up half-feral, I suppose the boy got used to doing as he liked, and now he doesn’t appreciate it when others tell him what to do.” She chuckles and leans toward me. “I think he gets that from my side of the family.”
I say nothing, but my heart squeezes. Ben is alone. Always has been. I think of five hundred years of his loneliness, and it makes me hurt for him.
“He’s always been an outcast,” Dru says softly. “And sad. So very sad. I’m getting old, you know. And I thought about what would happen to my poor Caliban if I eventually die and rejoin the gods in their heavens. Even those of us with ambrosia in our veins don’t live forever. And it hurt me to think of Caliban just drifting along, forever alone, when he is so smart and thoughtful and loving.” She looks over at me. “He has so much love to give, Reggie.”
There’s a knot in my throat. “I know.”
Her gaze grows distant. “So I made plans. I always wanted Lisa to come back after the baby. We talked about it a little—she loves magic and loves apprenticing. I don’t think she dreams of becoming some great caster on her own. There’s no ambition in her. She likes helping, loves assisting. It’s the mark of a fantastic familiar—that eagerness to please. And so I figured while she raises the baby, I’d take a little vacation, you know? Visit some old friends, see some tropical islands, maybe tour Australia and get myself a pet kangaroo.”
“I’m not sure you can keep them as pets—”
She waves a hand. “Don’t ruin my fantasy. Anyhow, I was getting everything prepared to leave, and then Ben came to visit me. And I knew something was wrong. He’s always a little sad and remote, but lately he’s just looked . . . lost. Something’s happened to make him retreat within himself, and I knew then I couldn’t leave him. I wasn’t sure if he’d be there when I came back.”
I think about Ben, about the client that killed himself and how much it made him question whether he was on the right path. Dru was right that something was bothering him.
“So I thought, well, what my Caliban needs is someone to love. And that’s where you come in.” She beams at me. “I spent days casting spells, looking to find the perfect person for him. Someone that would be able to see through all the prickly layers he puts over himself, someone that could understand where he comes from. Someone smart and brave and just as loving as him. I told Caliban that I needed a familiar while Lisa was unavailable, put an ad in the paper, and enchanted it to draw you toward it. Did you know you had the job before you ever stepped foot inside this house?”
I don’t know if I should be flattered or offended. “So you hired me to be Ben’s girlfriend.”
“Oh no. I simply hoped for the best.” She smiles sweetly. “I merely put you two in proximity to one another and let the sparks fly. Venus is never wrong, you know. When she suggests a pairing, I always listen.”
“And when I tried to leave, you pulled a stunt to force me to stay. To force me to Ben’s side, because I was afraid I’d be cursed. You knew that he’d protect me.”
Her chin lifts. “It worked, didn’t it?
“It worked, all right. And now Ben’s furious with you and he’s ruined his reputation with the other warlocks, so I’m not sure if that was what you wanted to achieve.”
Dru waves a hand. “Oh, Caliban doesn’t care about any of that. All those warlocks could fall off a cliff for all that he cares. He could stop casting tomorrow, and I think it wouldn’t bother him. He needs someone that sees him, though. Someone that understands him and loves him and supports him despite all the terrible things in his past. There’s no warlock or witch that doesn’t have a terrible history, myself included, but Caliban carries it heavier than most of us.” She shakes her head. “He thinks he’s fine alone, but I know he’s not. And my time here on Earth is limited, you know. I’m not going to be around forever.”
Oh. Is Dru . . . dying? That adds a horrifying angle to everything we’ve been through. Her machinations make sense, her scheming to secure Ben’s happiness. “How much longer do you have?”
She reaches over and takes my hand, her expression tragic. “Maybe another hundred years, max.”
I snatch my hand out of hers. “You are the fucking worst, you know that?”
Dru blinks at me in surprise. “What did I say?”
I rub a hand down my face, shaking my head. Dru’s actions make me want to strangle her, but she’s not wrong about Ben. He’s been lonely and alone, and I can’t be mad that she dragged us together. If she hadn’t, I might have left that night and never returned, and then I wouldn’t have the man I love. The man who clutches a muddy, waterlogged card because it’s my favorite, the man who looks at me like he wants to devour me, the man who tells me he’s proud of me when I yell at my parents. It’s all so very complicated. “Dru, I know you mean well, but you need to talk to Ben. He needs to hear all of this from you.”
She sighs heavily, dramatically. “Oh, I know. It’s just easier to run it past you first. I know you won’t give me those wounded eyes like he does. He’s really, really good at wounded eyes, you know.”
Oh, I know.
39
BEN
I’m going to wear a fucking groove into Aunt Dru’s garden with my pacing. My arms crossed tightly over my chest—it’s either that or I start throwing things—I walk back and forth, back and forth, past the fountain and the rosebushes in the backyard. My aunt has never been much of a gardener, but she keeps a garden for herbal spell components, and roses just so the gardeners don’t think she’s weird, she always says. I suspect she has tablets buried under each rosebush, and I’m tempted to yank each one up just to see what sorts of things my aunt has been up to.
Apparently I don’t know her as well as I thought. It was Reggie who realized that Dru had cursed herself. Reggie that pulled all the pieces together, and I’m both awed at how clever and fucking brilliant she is and chagrined that I didn’t figure it out myself. I’ve always had blinders on when it comes to my aunt, but this has really made me take a long, hard look at her.
Reggie would call her a Dorothy for sure. I always thought she was more of a Rose—to quote Reggie—but I see now I’ve been wrong all along.
Just thinking about Reggie settles me. I pause in my frustrated pacing, imagining how much she’s going to tease me when we can finally laugh about this. For some reason, instead of pissing me off, the thought makes me smile. I hate being teased . . . unless it’s Reggie, because then I can see that radiant, delighted smile of hers, and her eyes crinkle at the corners and then I have to kiss the hell out of her. I’m smiling to myself as I turn to pace the garden again.
And my aunt stands there in her fuzzy slippers and pink robe. Her snow-white curls are flattened on one side from sleeping, but her cheeks are full of color, her skin as golden with health as ever.
I stop smiling immediately.
Aunt Dru sighs at the change that comes over my expression. “I’m so very sorry, Caliban. I had no idea you’d worry so much.”