Cuckoo in the Coven

How had he known she’d want to come here? she wondered. Unless he’d prepared it by magic. During her lessons about magic, everyone who taught her kept emphasizing one point: magic must not be used for mundane and everyday tasks. It was a precious commodity to be treasured and used with discretion. Also, if he’d set the dinner table by magic, did that mean there was no one else in the house and they were entirely alone?

He drew out a chair, gesturing for her to sit down.

She smiled sweetly and took the seat offered. While he walked away, she glanced around, quickly assessing her surroundings to get her bearings and be aware of potential exits. There was only one door in the room, the one they’d entered through. The room was sparsely furnished. Aside from the table and chairs, a long sideboard sat against one wall. Several chandeliers hung overhead, and behind her on the distant wall, facing Fox, was a lone painting.

Fox had reached the other end of the table, some fifteen feet away, and sat down. Then he pounded his fist on the table and shouted, “Imelda, service!”

Relief edged into Sunny’s emotions. There was somebody else there. Moments later, her sense of hope quickly diminished.

A weary-looking lady in a maid’s outfit entered the room, slowly pushing a hostess trolley. Her uniform looked dated. The trolley she maneuvered was set with dishes covered with polished silver domes, accompanied by a matching ice bucket holding two bottles of champagne. The lady looked as if she was weary from servitude from this cruel master, and—like the chauffeur—had her head dipped, looking neither left nor right at either of them as she lay the dishes on the table and uncovered them.

When the woman brought a plate containing a suspicious looking array of black items, Sunny couldn’t help staring down at it in horror.

“Black ink squid with beluga caviar,” Fox informed her, “a delicacy I particularly enjoy.”

“I’m not familiar with it. What a...treat.”

Why on earth had she mentioned dinner? He hadn’t offered her a choice, or asked if she was veggie. Presumably because she was a stupid peasant who needed educating. She only had herself to blame, so she’d have to put up a good pretence. She didn’t even have a handbag to shove this ghastly stuff in when he wasn’t looking, she’d left it at Hollingswell, and the lettuce garnish wasn’t big enough to hide it all under.

A moment later, Fox popped the cork on a bottle of champagne.

Imelda waited by his side while he poured it, and nodded his approval. When she moved to Sunny’s side, carrying her glass, Sunny tried to capture her attention, trying to see the woman’s eyes. It was impossible. She sensed the woman was afraid, and it made her fret. Defensive emotions bubbled inside.

Once the servant left, Fox clapped his hands and classical music started playing from an invisible source. He swallowed champagne and then tucked into the squid. “We’ll eat, then there’s the contract to be negotiated.”

“Is it necessary? You saw how willingly I came.” She pushed the caviar and black squid around the plate, feigning interest. She wasn’t good with seafood and this stuff looked like it had been pulled out of the black tides last century.

She risked a sip of the champagne. It tasted good, but went straight to her head. A special vintage, no doubt. She decided to work with it, allowing herself to absorb the rush of intoxication. The likelihood was he wanted her awake, at the very least.

She fixed a smile on her face when he began to speak, pushing the remains of his starter to one side.

“The contract is merely a formality. I don’t offer my guidance to just anyone.”

“I understand. And it’s an honor to be given the opportunity.”

“You already demonstrated ability.” He studied her across the table. “I saw you when you were a child, alas your grandmother was a guard dog and wouldn’t let me get to know you then. Our relationship could have been...consummated...so much sooner.” He gave a lascivious smile which made her blood run cold.

“Did you know my grandmother well?”

He shrugged. “We understood each other well enough, but we never really saw eye to eye.” He paused and looked at her as if choosing his words carefully. “She was a talented woman.”

He reached inside his jacket and pulled out a folded sheet of aged parchment. “The contract.”

He tapped it on the table then opened it out and pushed it across the surface of the table.

The parchment slid easily on the polished surface, only stopping when it reached the edge of her table setting. She looked at the parchment and saw there was an ancient quill lying on it. There had been no sign of it a moment before. Again, he’d employed magic to do the simplest of tasks. “Surely you want to see what I can do, before you offer me a contract.”

“I’ve seen enough.” His mouth twitched to one side. “You need to read it.”

Warily, Sunny picked it up.

As soon as she did, she heard a strange sound. It was like a massive bolt sliding into place. She risked a side glance at the window. There were indeed bars across the top and lower window pane, and they were on the outside of the glass. It was just as Rowena had warned, but she hadn’t realized it would happen so fast.

Cautiously, she laid the parchment on the table, trying not to panic, whilst also not wanting to touch the page. Apparently the contract came into force as she read each line. She let her eyes glaze, forcing herself to look as if she was reading for a moment longer. Then she reached for her champagne glass. “Your demands for confidentiality are many.”

It was a wild guess, but she was playing for time, trying to figure out the next move. She had emotions plenty, but how best should she demonstrate she wasn’t to be toyed with?

At that moment, Imelda returned with her trolley.