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1199 Words
Zuro narrowed his eyes at her. “How old do you think I am?” he asked.
“Ah—” Mia fumbled. “Nineteen? Twenty?”
“I’m sixty-four years old.”
“Shut up,” Una said, the words flying out of her.
“How old do you think Avais?” he continued without missing a beat.
Mia stared at him, gobsmacked. He wasn’t kidding. “I don’t know,” she said, not willing to guess.
“Neither do I. Avahas been governor of Bower City since before it was Bower City, back when this place was just a few tepees and a campfire. I don’t even know what year that was because there are few records of the early days, and Avadoesn’t talk about it,” Zuro said. He leaned close to Mia. “Mala has already been waiting a long time. Be careful around her.”
Zuro crossed the last few steps into the dining room and joined the dinner party. Mia put out a hand and stopped her coven from following so they could calm down and regroup.
“This place just got a whole lot more interesting,” Joel said. “I wonder how long Avahas been in power.”
“Long enough for all of us to be scared of her,” Juliet said. “Power does funny things to a person’s head and the longer you have it, the more twisted you get. What I want to know is what she wants from Mia.”
Mia felt a protective surge of emotion from her sister and smiled at her, but Juliet was too worried to be mollified. A fretful frown stamped a crease between her big brown eyes and it would not go away.
It’s okay, Juliet. I’m not afraid of Grace.
You should be, Juliet replied in mindspeak. She sighed and rolled her eyes. But I know you won’t be. So I’ll just have to be afraid for you.
On that note they entered the dining room to find a small group of people waiting for Mia’s coven to join them.
“Mia,” Avasaid, her ageless face spreading into a wide smile. “Come and meet the minister of trade. I’ve just been telling him how you’ve been to the docks already.”
Waiters circled with brightly colored drinks in strangely shaped glasses. Appetizers whisked by. Avaintroduced Mia to several people with the title minister or chief or head in rapid succession. They all studied her like the newest wondrous beast in a menagerie. They gawked at her enormous willstone and tiptoed around the sticky subject of her claimed without ever really confronting the subject head on, or completely letting it drop, either. The women were less tactful about Mia’s coven than the men. They made not-so-veiled comments about how many strapping young mechanics Mia had acquired.
“But you can’t tell me that witches back east don’t tend to lean toward claiming attractive mechanics for themselves when they can,” said the minister of architecture. “Look at this little coven, for example.”
“I’m not for Mia. I like men,” Windyard replied bluntly.
“And I’m with her,” Breakfast added, pointing at Una. “The scary one.”
Mia nodded. “It’s true. She is scary.”
“You’re a little too wholesome for me,” Breakfast said to Mia. “No offense.”
“None taken.”
“And you’re a little too female for me,” Windyard said, grinning.
“It’s a fact. I am female,” Mia said with an apologetic shrug. She turned to the minister. “So, no. Witches don’t pick hot mechanics to surround themselves with potential partners. We pick them based on trust.” Her eyes found Erye, who was speaking to someone on the other side of the room. “Or lack of it.”
The prurient curiosity didn’t end after they’d been seated. Then, it was Mala’s turn to try to make them all feel uncomfortable.
“So, Una,” said Mala, already two drinks in, “what’s it like being a female mechanic?”
“It works just fine for me,” Una replied.
“But didn’t you ever want to be a witch so you could have a herd of adoring men to call your own, like Mia?” Mala persisted.
“No,” Una replied. “Tell me, do witches here firewalk?”
“There’s no reason for witches to do that in Bower City,” Avainterjected sternly. “Firewalking is for battle.”
“Well, I’ve heard Mia shrieking on the pyre,” Una said, pinning Mala with a look. “And I’ll take being in the battle over being on the pyre any day of the week. Herd or no herd.”
Get me out of here, Mia said in mindspeak to Juliet.
Stay calm, she replied, resettling her napkin in her lap primly. They’re just testing you to see if you fly off the handle again.
Mia could sense Erye brushing up against her mind, asking for entry. In a moment of weakness she almost let him, but thought better of it at the last moment. She didn’t want his support. When the food arrived, she felt Zuro nudge her elbow with his. When she looked over at him, he gave her an encouraging smile.
“I’m sure Mia didn’t claim her mechanics for ego-serving reasons,” Avasaid, taking Mia’s side. “In the east, a witch needs mechanics or she’s not safe. But claiming is unnecessary here. The Hive protects all citizens equally.” Avaput down her chopsticks. “So, Mia, have you made up your mind yet?”
“My mind?” Mia asked.
“As to whether or not you’d like to stay in Bower City.”
“Actually, I haven’t,” Mia replied honestly. She looked down the table at her coven. “We haven’t,” she amended.
“That’s a shame. This city has a lot to offer someone with your skill. More than you had back east, although I’m sure you were very important,” Avasaid.
“Not exactly,” Mia said, frowning.
“Oh?” Avasaid. She c****d her head to the side.
“It’s complicated.”
“Mia Proctor.” Avaleaned back, thumbing through her memory. “There was a John Proctor of the Salem Bay Colony in Massachusetts. He was the first mechanic and his wife, Elizabeth, was the first firewalker. Their descendants have been the on-again, off-again Salem Witches ever since. Aren’t you from Salem?”
Mia saw the conversation narrow, leaving her on a tightrope. “There are a lot of people with the last name Proctor.”
Grace’s smile was detached from her eyes. Thoughts moved behind them like pieces on a chessboard. Silence rolled up the long table and landed in a taut bundle in front of Mia.
“No, there aren’t,” Avasaid in a soft voice. “You are Lillian Proctor of Salem. You are the Salem Witch, and Erye Fall is your head mechanic.”
Mia felt Erye shoving urgently at her mind. She ignored him. She could handle this on her own.
- Writer
