Need to start at the beginning? Start here:
Links to Book One, Deadheading the Hemlock are at the bottom of the post.
Chapter Two
Following Aelfwen’s announcement that Freysblöt and the harvest ball were to be hosted at Blackwood Hall, I spent the remainder of the day blindly deadheading the plants and snipping at overgrowing shrubs. My thoughts were scattered but I tried to zone in on the garden and just how much work needed to be done, and in what order, to create the pristine frontage that Maximus and Aelfwen had declared was necessary for a good first impression. Getting it ready would be a mammoth task but I wasn’t alone and had the manpower of Aldred and his son Drew, although neither of them were under fifty years of age.
However, what dominated my thoughts was Aelfwen’s revelation about Maximus. The simple sentence, ‘Maximus has asked that you accompany him to the Ball as his companion’ had thrown me into a loop and taken on doom laden tones in my overactive imagination.
Companion? What does that even mean?
Was I to be his companion in a ‘professional’ capacity as one of his employees or companion in a ‘I like you, Leofe’ kind of way? I snipped at the head of a foxglove, seeing the secateurs cut the beautifully formed and coloured bell-shaped flower from its stalk before becoming conscious of what I had done. The perfect bloom fell to the floor. Aggrieved at my mistake, and realising I was only going to damage more plants if I continued, I tramped back to my office to make a cup of tea. Tea always helped and during her last visit, Beatrice of Haligern had left a small glass bottle of ‘calmative elixir’ for my ‘struggling nerves’. At the time, I’d thanked her and placed it on the shelf among assorted baskets of seed-filled envelopes and hand-cleansing creams with no intention of using it. Now though, with the fear of my energies becoming toxic again if I became too stressed – and the thought of accompanying Maximus to the ball as his ‘companion’ was definitely stressing me out – I decided to give them a try.
A blackbird landed on the turf covered roof as I entered the office and I shut the door behind me with relief. I needed to sit down and think, or more accurately, stare at the rafters with a cup of tea in hand whilst my mind floated away to a more peaceful place. Oblivion would be preferable.
However, my mind wouldn’t rest and with the kettle on, and tealeaves spooned into the waiting pot, I rolled out the map of the hall and gardens I’d drawn up over the past weeks. Each of the gardens was plotted on the map, as was the surrounding woodlands. I had even marked Wyman’s cottage - the woodsman who managed the woodlands - and noted in which direction the local villages and towns lie. My next job was to create larger and more detailed maps of each of the gardens and label the plants within them. I’d make notes of their position in the garden, and hours of sunlight gained, along with their general health, and notes of specialist care and suggestions for improving and developing the garden. The project would take weeks, if not months, to do properly, and I was keen to get started. The gathering of the covens at the Hall would hinder overall progress but would also help me to focus on specific areas—the front, knot garden, and garden where the festival would be held. With the kettle boiling, and forcing thoughts of Maximus out of my head, I decided to use the remainder of the afternoon to map out the front of the house, including the woodland entrance and driveway, and create a plan of action to make Blackwood Hall as beautifully presented as possible.
Since arriving at the Hall, my love of the place had only deepened. Unfortunately, so had my attraction to my boss, the topaz-eyed and smoulderingly hot, Maximus Blackwood.
I sighed, unrolled the map of the Hall, and spread it across my worktable, anchoring it down at the corners before retrieving a large sheet of thick and blank paper from the stock Aelfwen had provided.
Maximus wants you to be his companion.
It’s just a work thing.
Maybe he’s interested? You’ve scrubbed up well since you arrived.
I had to. I was a mess!
It was true. After the derisory comments from Marissa, the marketing expert who turned out to be a murderous acolyte of Ba’aleth, the malicious creature we were tasked with keeping from sneaking through the garden’s portal to the other realms, I had made an effort to improve my appearance. Gone was the straggling and overgrown hair. Gone was the grunge-style and moth-eaten rock concert t-shirts. And gone was my overly thin figure. My hair was glossy and brushed every day! My style was more smart-casual than grunge. And I’d even managed to put on a bit of weight in all the right places and no longer looked like an anorexic and homeless alcoholic.
So, he could be interested.
Sometimes he looks at you in a strange way.
No doubt because he thinks I’m strange.
Maybe he likes strange.
He liked Marissa the blonde bombshell.
She was arm candy. And toxic.
Maybe he prefers toxic arm candy?
Well, you can be toxic!
I shook my head as though to dislodge the thoughts.
“Focus, Leofe,” I murmured. “Get a grip!”
“What do you need to get a grip on?”
The voice was low and strong and instantly recognisable. I swung round to see Maximus filling the doorway. Six foot four of bearded alpha male, broad shouldered, with muscular arms that I had imagined wrapping around me in the dark of night far too many times in the past few weeks. An amused smile sat on his lips as he caught me in his gaze. Topaz eyes ringed with caramel took me in and the familiar shot of desire flooded through me in a heartbeat.
My mouth opened then closed in a moronic goldfish-like manner as I failed to think of a response.
Way to impress him, Leofe!
“Oh … The gardens!” I managed. My mind scrambled through the seconds before he had opened the door; what had I said? Had I mentioned his name? Could he read my thoughts like Beatrice could?
He’s not a witch, Leofe.
Then what is he?
Thoughts sped through my mind like a high-speed train as I scrambled for something sensible to say.
Stay professional!
“Aelfwen tells me that we’re to host a ball later in the summer.”
He let out a low sigh but quickly recovered with a smile. “We are indeed.”
“Aelfwen said it’s a great privilege and that the Witches’ Council are to hold a Choosing for their next-”
“Hag extraordinaire,” he muttered.
His voice was so low that I barely caught the words. Surprised, I let out a snort of laughter. “Well, she referred to them as elders, I think, but Jodi would agree with you.”
“Oh? What did she say?”
“She said the Hall would be filled to the rafters with cantankerous and self-important crones, and judgemental old witches.”
He laughed. “She’s not wrong, but let’s keep that to ourselves.” He took another step into the room, leaving the door ajar. Warm sunlight fell across the desk. “What have you got there?” he asked and stepped beside me.
I felt a crackling sensation at my fingertips and noticed a spark hit the desk. I flinched at the fizzing pain in my fingers. Startled, I quickly stuffed my hand into my back pocket. Aelfwen had warned me that as my powers grew the energy within may start to leak out. Thankfully, Maximus gave no hint of having noticed the spark and leaned over the table to read the map of the garden.
“This is beautifully done, Leofe,” he said as he scanned the unrolled map. “You’re quite the cartographer. When it’s finished, can I have a copy?”
Surprised at his interest, I said: “I … yes, of course.”
“Thank you. I shall hang it in my office.”
The pulse at the base of my throat began to beat and I glanced across to the kettle where the teapot sat with the bottle of calming elixir beside it. “Can I make you a cup of tea?” I asked.
I’ll be honest, I was hoping he would say no and that I would be left alone to gather my senses and drink a potful of elixir-infused tea.
He said yes.
As I made the tea, he moved about the office, then stopped at the large dresser where I had begun to create a catalogue of seeds. Jars and packets filled the shelves, many empty, waiting for the flowers to bloom and produce their fruit. “And you’ve made a start on the seed bank,” he said and turned to me with an appreciative smile just as I let several drops of elixir fall into a mug.
“Poisoning me?” he asked with a frown.
“What?” I replied as he looked from me to the glass bottle filled with the sparkling caramel liquid.
“You were dropping something into my mug?”
“This?” I said grabbing the bottle. “Oh, no! This is … I was putting some into my mug.” I picked up the mug as though to prove it were mine. “See,” I said tipping it towards him and showing the ring of tannin left over from my earlier cup. For once I was relieved that I hadn’t used a clean cup. “I used this one earlier. I just rinsed it out. This one is yours?” I held up the clean cup, turning the top to him to prove its cleanliness. “See. Nothing inside.”
You’re rambling! Stay calm.
He frowned then gave a forced smile. “Relax. I believe you.”
I placed both cups on the counter.
“So, what is in the bottle?”
“That? Oh, it’s just … stuff … you know, for health. Vitamins. That kind of thing.”
“Ah. Well, if it’s good for your health then you can put a couple of drops into mine too.”
“Ah …”
“Unless … Unless it’s for women’s things?”
Uncomprehending, I asked: “What kind of women’s things?”
A flash of fear flickered in his eyes, the mirth disappearing. “I … you know, for older women, that kind of thing.”
He means the menopause! He thinks I’m old enough to be shrivelling up and drying out!
He knows you’re old enough. It’s hardly a secret.
“No, it’s definitely not for women’s things,” I replied beginning to lose control of my grasp on the conversation as stinging heat pricked at my cheeks. Women’s things was definitely not something I wanted to discuss with my very attractive, insanely hot boss. “Just an elixir Beatrice left for me. She thought it would hel- … Be good for my health.”
“Ah. Beatrice. Yes. One of the Haligern crones.” He caught my eyes then glanced at the sparkling bottle.
I gave an affirmative nod. “Yes, a Haligern crone.”
“I’ll give it a miss then.”
I nodded. “Yes. Very sensible,” I mumbled. I turned to the counter and grabbed the teapot then poured out two mugs of tea with a trembling hand and the hope that the elixir would be quick acting.
As we stood in awkward silence, nursing our steaming mugs of tea, mine black, his black with two sugars, I was relieved to discover that the elixir had an almost immediate effect.
“So, Leofe,” he said after another sip of tea. “There’s something I need you to do.”
***
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If you haven’t read Book 1, Deadheading the Hemlock, here are the links: