Spiral Path (Night Calls Series Book 3) by Katharine Eliska Kimbriel, Cat Kimbriel Read Free Book Online Page B

prevent you from ending up in the family way.”
    Cousin Esme smiled, and those expressions made her look very
much like Marta. For a moment, these two merged in my mind, and I found myself
wondering whose smile it was that had marked them. Had they shared a teacher at
one time? Or was it something women who were practitioners gradually acquired?
Then I thought back to see if Cory ever looked that way, which meant I missed
half her next question.
    “ Ma’am?”
I said quickly; she’d caught me woolgathering.
    Cousin Esme’s smile slightly opened her mouth; her
expression was amused. “Yes, we did,” she answered. “Now, your cousin tells me
that you have delivered several babies, including twins. Let’s speak of that.”
    I wasn’t sure if she was answering my thought about being
caught flat-footed, or . . . the thought before it, about a
former teacher they’d shared. So I just plowed on.
    I told her about delivering twins on Twelfth Night, with
Marta too far away to advise me, and the Wild Hunt between the Moore’s cabin
and Marta’s home. I gave Marta a quick glance, to see if she was starting to frown—meaning
I could leave that part out of my story—but Marta just sat there, nodding her
agreement at various points.
    “ You
can mention your Good Friend,” Marta said when I reached a place to pause. “And
the poltergeist.”
    I did not need to tell Cousin Esme that a Good Friend was a
spirit who willingly chose to help a practitioner work magic; she undoubtedly
had her own Good Friend. More than one Good Friend could appear for someone
overwhelmingly Talented.
    And so I explained about losing Marta’s horse in the snow,
and my Good Friend, in his guise as a white stag, rescuing me from ghouls and
then carrying me through the horde of dark faery. The story about the
poltergeist that fled when my troubles with the Hudsons began was woven in
there somewhere.
    “ Wild
Magic follows you,” Cousin Esme said abruptly, glancing at my cousin Marta.
    “ More
than once,” Marta agreed. “Tell her about controlling the tornado in the snow
storm.”
    Well, I was surprised I was jumping ahead of the story, but
I did, explaining how I’d caught a wisp of wind as I moved through a snowstorm,
holding onto it in case I needed a weapon. Yes, it sounds strange now, but then
I didn’t think about it. I had never willingly harmed anything, especially a
man—but that night Death itself used me as its weapon to reach an ancient and
corrupt evil that had once called itself human.
    As I found a rock to cling to in the river of narrative,
Cousin Esme suddenly asked: “What is the first rule of wizardry?”
    I just stared at her.
    Marta said: “Actually we taught her the second rule first—in
her case, we thought it best. Do you remember, Alfreda, when we asked you which
plant was Queen Anne’s lace?”
    Ah.
    How to explain it simply? “The lesson was to realize how
much you don’t know. And that what you don’t know may be more dangerous than
everything you do know.”
    Cousin Esme nodded, and said: “Drink your tea, child. You
won’t get that quality in the dining room on a Saturday.”
    Then she turned her attention to Marta, and I took a nice
mouthful of tea (since it had cooled a bit) and nibbled on my buttered scone.
It was a lovely thing, moist and flavorful, with the smallest amount of lift to
the dough. Almost like pastry dotted with tart pieces of fruit. I wondered if
the cook would share the recipe, and if I could make it in a wood-burning oven.
I’d heard about “stoves” but hadn’t seen one yet.
    “ I’ll
teach her,” Cousin Esme said, and I blinked. So, they hadn’t known for sure
that she’d take me. “You know how much is happening right now, but I lost my
herb and potions teacher, and she could definitely teach the first-year
students, and perhaps more. Her age doesn’t need to be known around the school.
I’ll do a thorough review later this week. Tell Garda and Eldon that her