If not for Agnes’s charm and her ability to keep a conversation going even among the most dour guests, Sally and Gillian might have simply stared at Vincent, for how could one present a lifetime over a single dinner? Tell me about yourself. I am brokenhearted, I’ve lost my daughter, I’m no longer young, I was wild and I paid a price, I’m a woman who is afraid of magic and of the future and of this very moment. Instead, when asked how they were faring, both Gillian and Sally replied, Fine.
Franny and Agnes had last seen each other nearly sixty years earlier, at Vincent’s false funeral, but oddly Agnes looked no different. She was as elegant as always, and she seemed years younger than her age, miraculously so. Franny leaned over to whisper to Vincent. Hadn’t Madame Durant been in her fifties when Franny came to Paris for Vincent’s funeral? Wouldn’t that make her over a hundred now?
“It’s her bloodline,” Vincent confided. “The Durants don’t age.”
Sally, who was unable to eat dinner, pushed her gold-rimmed plate away. The silverware was intricate and heavy, though it was tarnished, the silver turning black in the hands of a witch. It was all well and good to have polite conversation concerning the architecture of the house and the length of the flight from Boston, but Sally didn’t wish for small talk any more than she wished for food. She had more pressing issues on her mind.
“You say you’re a finder?” she asked this new grandfather of hers, the edge of suspicion in her tone.
Vincent shrugged, not wanting to praise himself too highly. “I’ve had the ability on occasion.”
“I hope so,” Gillian said. “We’ve come across the ocean to see you for that reason. I hope it wasn’t for nothing.”
Franny glared at her niece. “Of course it isn’t for nothing. It’s a talent of his. One of many.”
“You have your own talents,” Vincent reminded her.
Sally was quick to interrupt their mutual admiration. “Shall we begin the search tonight?”
It was not a question really, but rather a demand. She couldn’t quite think of Vincent as family, though he had the gray eyes the Owenses were known for and seemed oddly familiar, perhaps because she’d seen his face in news articles about musicians who had died too young to fulfill their promise. He had that one song their mother, Regina, had played over and over again when she thought her children were asleep.
“We should begin immediately,” Vincent agreed. “Night is best.”
They would proceed to Amulette for the ingredients that were needed. A light rain was falling and Agnes lent her visitors umbrellas and raincoats. “Don’t go over to the other side,” she cheerfully warned Sally and Gillian as she bid them good-bye.
“Unlikely,” Sally said flatly. The left-handed side of magic and its Crooked Path would never appeal to her. She had avoided magic her whole life long and always proceeded with logic.
But people often did the unexpected and left-handed magic was very tempting, even for those convinced they couldn’t be corrupted. It was a way to get what you wanted, and in return all one must do was dispose of both empathy and compassion, bothersome and unnecessary elements when walking the path. Was that really so high a price in exchange for your heart’s desire? For those whose own needs and desires came first, the trade could easily seem worth the price. Still, once you had what you wanted, left-handed magic took everything else in return. You didn’t even realize that you’d been burned until you looked down to discover you had been turned to ash.
* * *
They went on foot, through the gardens of the Tuileries, down the stairs leading to the riverbank. In the dimming light Franny had thrown up a cloak of protection to ensure that no one would notice them. This was a private business, after all. The dog, Dodger, was happy to be unleashed as he bounded down to the river, yipping with joy. Franny, on the other hand, had her troubles. Her knee. Her hip. Her condition had been improved with her own salves, yet she was still unable to keep up with the others, which was quite annoying. She had her umbrella to lean on, all the same she took the stairs slowly and Vincent hated to see that.