Raising Questions

by Corrie Kavanaugh
1310567359|%e %b %Y, %H:%M %Z|agohover (updated 1310567379|%e %b %Y, %H:%M %Z|agohover) | 0 comment(s)

IC Date: June 24th, 2011 — late afternoon

It's been a while since I've been home. Not out of choice — at least not subconsciously. I've been busy with work, with trying to gain a new client, with setting up my own small PR firm. Even so, as I come up along the drive it hits me — I've missed this. I miss home more than I'll ever admit to anyone.

Rather than wandering right up to the house immediately, I wander out to the barn. Duke catches up and the two of us walk along in silence, just enjoying the evening. Once I slip into the barn, I give Duke a pat on his head and whisper, "Stand guard." There's something I need to get and old Duke can't really climb the ladder to the loft.

As long as it's been since I've come home (really only a matter of weeks), it's been longer since I've climbed up to the loft. It's comforting, really, how nothing's changed all that much up here since I moved to London. Which means, what I'm looking for will still be hidden behind the loose board under the window. Crawling through the hay, I make my way to the 'secret' location and pry the board free.

There, hidden beneath the window are a stack of journals that I've not set eyes on in at least ten years. Drawing out the top one, I open it slowly looking at the still somewhat childish scrawl on the pages. A smile slowly creeps up on my lips and I begin to read.

Daylight has disappeared — I've been up here longer than I thought I would be. It was a happy woof from Duke that made me snap my attention up from the pile of books littering the floor of the loft. "Who's there, Duke?"


"Corrie?" The voice is masculine and causes me to blink.


"Your Mum wants to know if you're planning on bedding down out here."

I grin. Leave it to Mum to have noticed I got here earlier than planned. Not much seems to slip by that woman, and I sometimes wonder if she's got a bit of telepathy — at least where her daughters are concerned. "I'll be right down, I lost track of time." Not an untruth — I was caught up in the past. It takes just a few seconds to stuff the journals into my bag and begin the descent down the ladder.

Reading my old attempts at creating new spells while the other girls did kitchen work has me making two descisions as Da and I walk toward the farmhouse, playing catchup. I will start writing a journal alongside the grimoires I've been keeping, and I'll see if Mum will help me with the kitchen work. I do well enough with what I have, but considering my associations of late? It may be a good idea to actually put in a little more effort where spellcraft is concerned.

Passing the car, I switch one bag for another. The journals are safe enough in the car, and I'd rather have my overnight bag with me now instead of having to run out for it after dinner.

Throughout dinner, I've had this strange vibe from Mum. Like she wants to ask me something, or chastise me over something. I'm not stressing over it too much, though in the pit of my stomach I wonder if Jean's told her that I'm doing PR work for a vampire.

It's not hard for her to corner me in the kitchen, I always tidy the dishes when I stay for a meal — it's the least I can do. My hands are full of sudsy soap as I lower the dishes into the sink but I can hear Mum sneaking into the kitchen, waiting until I'm not holding anything breakable before she starts in on me.

"I've got this, Mum," I say in a somewhat chipper manner. "Go relax in the sitting room with Da." When she doesn't move, I glance over my shoulder and see the pursed lips. Sighing, I draw my hands from the water and carefully dry them on the towel. "What, Mum?" I really am expecting the worst at this point.

"Where on earth did you get that necklace?"

My fingers drop to the pendant, and I can't help but smile. "It was a gift. It's… an antique."

Mum's not having any of that. In her typical Mum fashion, she stares at me. "From who?"

I can't exactly come out and say that a vampire gave it to me because it belonged to one of our ancestors. "It's not from him if that's what you're asking. I've not spoken to him in months." I'll simply assume she was asking if it was from Rhys.

"Corrie Amelia Kavanaugh, stop avoiding the question!"

Taking a deep breath, I exhale it slowly. "It's from a client, Mum. I'm certain they don't even have a clue that it's magical in nature." A lie. A little lie, but Mum's always had a brilliant built in lie-detector. I'm hoping that the truth shines through, because it is from a client.

"Do they know what you are?"

I blink. "Why would they know what I am? It's not like I run around London telling everyone who'd listen, Mum."

Taking me by the arm, she draws me toward the table and points to the extremely old book upon it. Carefully turning the pages, she finds a sketch that looks almost exactly like my necklace. "That would be why, my girl."

I stare down at the page in front of me, the description written in olde English is hard to decipher but it seems to match what Aidan told me about it. He didn't lie. "There were quite likely a few trinkets like this back then, Mum." It's a rather weak argument.

"Exactly like this, Corrie!?" Mum shakes her head slowly closing the grimoire. "Be careful. The last woman in our family to wear that necklace disappeared."

"Disappeared? I thought…" Bloody hell. Now I'm going to have to be careful in how I respond to what I know is coming.

"Thought what?" There it is.

"Well there's no mention of a disappearance in our grimoires. The family trees are quite complete." Only, they're not. Centuries ago, someone was erased. I can't say that because then I'll have to answer how I know that, and bringing up the whole vampire thing — just not a good idea.

"Not everything is in the books I've let you and your sisters have access to."

I blink at Mum, although I already knew that she had other books. There are some things that it's just not smart to share with your entire coven. Of course she had hidden grimoires. "I'll be careful, I promise. I stopped speaking to the sorcerer, didn't I?" Only that really wasn't by choice.

I feel bad keeping things from Mum, but sometimes it's necessary. The less she knows right now the better. I'll explain it all in my new journals, and leave them to the family — even if they contain things that the family would rather not know.

Mum picks the grimoire up to return it to the attic. "Good. That was just trouble begging to happen."

I want to argue with her on that point — Rhys isn't that awful a person, despite his heritage — but I don't rush to defend him. She's upset enough over the necklace. Instead I offer a nod of agreement. "Mum, while I'm here this weekend, do you think you could help me with my kitchen work?"

She pauses as she exits the kitchen. "Cooking? I suppose I could help you with another recipe. We're having a roast tomorrow night."

"Not cooking, Mum. I was thinking, if you want me to be careful, what better way than to become a bit better with the magic?" I'm trying desperately to make it sound as though it was her idea, with the whole mention again of me being careful.

"Oh, Corrie! I knew you'd come around in time. Let me just put this away and bring some tea to your father and we'll get to work."


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