Pentagrams and Pomegranates

Part II: Love is an Hourglass

Magical Diary

Heroine x Hieronymous Grabiner; Damien Ramsey

By Gabihime at gmail dot com

Eight: This Pain Is Just Too Real


Before the imaginary sun tracked particularly far across the sky, Amoretta and Grabiner returned to the house proper, where they found Raven curled up on the sofa, pensively staring out the window into the garden. Her dark hair was thrown over one shoulder, and seemed to circle her like the unknown waters of Oceanus, a veil and a boundary that no living mortal might cross. She was an island unto herself, melancholy and withdrawn. Grabiner eyed his wife silently, one eyebrow raised, then turned his back on the both of them and sat down at the piano, where he began shuffling through the musical compositions in the magazine stand near his feet. Amoretta gave him a consoling pat on the shoulder. This was her territory and she knew it. He was a reluctant participant at best, faintly radiating his conviction that she would suffer more trouble than pleasure from her current predicament, and that he would eventually be called to pull her back from the worst of it. Amoretta didn't begrudge him for how he thought about things. It was his way: as familiar as his dark hair and the smudgey shadows under his eyes that never seemed to fade, no matter how long he slept.

Barely on your feet again after your last spill, and already into some new trouble.

It was what he was thinking. She could feel it in her bones even if he did not say it himself.

Grabiner was wary and more careful of her than she was of herself. Beyond that he was generally uninterested in involving himself in the problems of other people, particularly students.

She, on the other hand, had a regular knack for problems.

Each to his own talents, he had once told her.

She wasn't really sure what her talents were, even now, but she did have some idea of her responsibilities. Raven had come to her seeking help and guidance. Amoretta had accepted the girl into her home, which meant that until the little blackbird found a new roost, Amoretta was responsible for her. She had not forgotten what Grabiner had told her before carrying her over the threshold into this strange, new world. She was a queen, and that meant something, even if the borders of her kingdom were marked off by flower beds and an old cow shed.

It wouldn't have mattered either way, Grabiner might have said with resignation to her small back. You feel responsible for everybody, regardless.

That was true and she couldn't really help it.

But he knew that.

And she knew it too.

Amoretta went over to the sofa and flopped onto it next to Raven.

"Has the headmistress gone?" she asked.

Raven nodded, and her lustrous hair rippled like dark water. Her mouth seemed thin because her lips were pressed together.

"What's happened?" Amoretta asked gently, reaching up to pat Raven's head as if she were a small cat. It was something Grabiner did to her often, to comfort her when she was distressed. It was easy and commonplace.

People like being cared for, Amoretta reflected. Especially people who've had a rough time.

Raven seemed to be trying very hard not to begin crying again. She had very carefully schooled her face to look solemn and morose, but an unbidden sniffle escaped, and when she spoke it was not in measured, dulcet grace, but rather with an unattractive squeak.

"My mother's at the school," she said. "Now. Today. She's been looking for me."

Amoretta winced. "I guess that follows. You have been away from home for almost two weeks. It's understandable that she's out looking for you, and the school's a pretty good place to start. Now I suppose the headmistress will tell her where you are," she said, pressing her teeth against her lower lip.

Raven squeezed her eyes shut, and then silently shook her head. "She said she wouldn't," Raven answered quietly. "She said she'd only say that she had it on good authority that I was safe and well."

Amoretta brightened. "Well, that's good news, isn't it?" she wondered.

Raven nodded, sniffling, then continued. "But she says I ought to see my mother, to tell her what I've decided. She didn't say I had to, she just said 'that's what I suggest, chicken.'" Raven buried her face in her knees and hunkered down. When she was distressed, her grave, dramatic way of speaking fell away, and she seemed very much what she was: a frightened, confused teenaged girl.

"I'm guessing you don't want to do that?" Amoretta asked, tilting her head slightly to the side.

The ball of Raven shook, signaling a negative answer. From inside the veil of her dark hair, Amoretta heard a muffled, "I don't. I don't know what I've decided, anyway. It's not like I have any concrete plans for the future, none that she doesn't already know. I just know that I don't want what she wants for me. I want what I want. But I really have no one and no where. I can't stay here forever, as much as I'd like to, as nice as that would be."

Grabiner looked over his shoulder sharply at that, and shot Amoretta a silent warning glance, but she imperiously waved him off, and then rolled her eyes in his general direction. He frowned and then turned his attention to the music stand again.

"You might not be able to stay here forever," Amoretta said comfortingly, putting her arm around the hunched over girl. "But you can stay here until we figure things out. I told you that, remember? I really meant it." She sat back thoughtfully. "Maybe what all this means is that you can't really go home again. If you and your mother can't agree, then you may not be able to go back again, even if you'd like to. It's hard to go back to someone else's rules once you've had a taste of setting your own for a change. I think parents sometimes have trouble accepting that their children grow up, but that doesn't stop them from growing up." She smiled wistfully. "As I understand it, part of growing up is leaving home, and most people do it eventually, some before others." She shrugged. "If you can't be yourself in your own home, then it's time to find a new home, where you can be yourself."

Abruptly, the rustling of the music stopped, and Amoretta turned to see that Grabiner had gotten to his feet, and was eyeing her thoughtfully, his hands in his pockets. He looked as if he was unsure of whether or not he should speak.

Amoretta gave him an encouraging smile and he frowned briefly, but then apparently decided to break his silence.

"Miss Darkstar," he said levelly, "Applying for emancipation is a weighty step, and certainly not one to be undertaken lightly. However, one thing is certain. It is your life, and it is therefore your decision. You may make a break with your family that cannot be mended," he said with a noncommittal shrug. "That may be the price you must pay for the life you wish to pursue. Life is a series of choices," he said, "Where we trade away some things and gain others. You must choose what you are willing to give up, and what you must on all counts keep. No one can make this choice, but you."

Amoretta gave him an approving nod, and Grabiner paused absently and then added, almost as if to himself, "You will never have all things, Miss Darkstar. Such is not permitted."

He seemed very distant for a single moment: quiet, reserved, and resigned. Amoretta bit her lip as she watched him, trying to read what he was feeling, but then he seemed to snap out of his reverie suddenly as his eyes focused on Raven Darkstar briefly. His gaze shifted to Amoretta and he gave her a silent eyeroll and then turned to look at the piano again.

On the sofa, Raven tentatively looked through the curtain of her hair. Amoretta was distracted from the nuances of Grabiner's changeable moods by more pressing circumstances. She shifted her attention to the solemn girl at her side.

"So you think I ought to go talk to her?" Raven asked, still sniffling uncertainly.

Amoretta gave her an awkward smile.

"I'm not really sure," she admitted. "It sort of depends on what you decide. You could try to make it up with her one last time, and warn her that you'll seek emancipation if she won't let you live the way you want."

Grabiner snorted and said, "In my experience it is not particularly productive to attempt to threaten one's parents."

Amoretta picked up one of the small pillows on the sofa and threw it at his back, scowling.

"I wasn't suggesting she threaten her mother, and you know that," she retorted.

"It certainly sounded like that's what you were suggesting," Grabiner disagreed dryly, turning to look at the pillow, which now lay on the floor at his feet.

"I'm suggesting that she honestly tell her mother what she intends to do," Amoretta said smartly, with a decisive nod. "It's completely within her rights."

"Whether it's within her rights or not, what you're suggesting is that she go up to her mother and say, 'mummy dearest,'" here Grabiner's imitation of Raven sounded more like a sugary fairy tale princess than any sort of gothic heroine, "'If you don't let me get my way, then I will do something to make you very, very sorry.'" He frowned before continuing, "You may be used to getting your way with your own father, Amoretta, but I promise you that as a negotiating tactic, ultimatums are usually not quite so successful. They wound both the pride and the confident moral authority of the parent. Parents do not enjoy submitting to their children. Given the option, they would usually rather devour their children than be ruled by them," he finished grimly.

Amoretta scowled at him.

"Raven's not doing this just to make her mother upset!" Amoretta stormed. "It's absurd to even imagine such a thing!"

"Absurd or not, I'm sure that's just what her mother is imagining," Grabiner cut in dryly.

"Raven just wants to be the person that she wants to be! That's not a crime. Raven's life belongs to her, not to her mother, and she ought to be able to do what she wants with it. It's not selfish of her to want to live according to her own dreams and wishes, no matter what her mother thinks of it. Parents may give their children life, but they don't own them. Don't be so morbid, Hieronymous," Amoretta complained. "However bad the situation is, I don't think Raven's mother has threatened to eat her or anything."

That might have brightened Raven up, Amoretta reflected distractedly.

"You've missed the point," Grabiner said flatly. "Miss Darkstar ought to decide once and for all what she is willing to give up," he said, "Before she goes to speak to her mother. She should not lay an ultimatum, which her mother is sure not to respect in any case, whatever lip service she may pay it. If Miss Darkstar threatens, then she will show her hand, and then her mother may undertake steps to counter her, if she thinks it necessary. An ultimatum will accomplish nothing. Perhaps it is even what her mother anticipates," he said with an idle wave. "Parents can be very difficult adversaries, as they generally never fight fairly. The girl must make her own choice, and then depend upon the fact that her mother will also choose to act. This may mean the end of the good feelings in her family, or it may not," Grabiner said negligently, as if the outcome were generally uninteresting to him. "That depends on the actions of all parties involved, not one alone."

Amoretta frowned and thought things over.

Beside her, Raven had curled into a ball again.

At that moment, William appeared from around the corner, carrying a mop bucket and scrub brush.

"Master," he said deferentially, bowing his head slightly. "I've finished scrubbing the floor in the workshop, and have replaced all the furniture as you directed. I also delivered the packages upstairs. They're in the witch's bedroom, and I informed Mr. Cord that they were ready to be unpacked."

"All right," Grabiner said dismissively. "You may as well start on the hallway, then. Remember," he said with a brief wave of his hand, "Until it shines."

"Hieronymous!" Amoretta interjected. "Tell me that you haven't had William scrubbing the workshop floor all morning. Is that why he wasn't at breakfast?" she asked, mildly mortified.

"The rat hasn't earned a spot at the table yet," Grabiner said idly. "Until he has, he'll take his meals alone. And yes, darling heart," Grabiner's sneering pronunciation of the diminutive was so saccharine it made everyone in the room feel slightly ill, "That is exactly how I have engaged him this morning. I'm surprised you don't approve," he said, crossing his arms over his chest. "After all, you were the one who was so keen on this arrangement."

"Well," Amoretta began, biting her lip, uncertain of whether she ought to intercede further on William's behalf.

"It's all right, Amoretta," he reassured her with a slightly beleaguered smile. "I knew what I was getting into."

"Excuse me," Grabiner interjected sharply, with a snap of his bootheel that caused both William and Amoretta to jump. "But you have been too familiar, rat. You are speaking to my wife and the lady of this house. To you, she is either 'Mistress,' or 'Madam.' Is that clear?"

William dropped to one knee and bowed his head again. "Yes, sir," he answered. "I'm sorry, sir."

"I believe I already told you my opinion on apologies, rat," Grabiner said dismissively.

"Yes, sir," William repeated himself. This was apparently all Grabiner had allowed that he could say without objection.

"Now, I think the hallway floor is in need of a thorough scrubbing," Grabiner said. "And I'm not particularly fond of repeating myself, however much my wife may enjoy listening to me talk."

"No sir," William agreed, picking up his bucket and brush again and making to retreat from the room. "Excuse me."

Amoretta got up off the sofa and scrambled to interpose herself between William and the welcome escape of the hallway.

She held up a slim hand.

"Hey William, I know you're super duper primo excited to get back to the intensely interesting task of scrubbing the hallway floor - the floor that already gets scrubbed three times a week by Tansy - but if you could spare me a teency-weency ounce of your time, I'd like your opinion on something," she said.

William halted, and looked with uncertainty toward Grabiner. He had his orders, but -

Grabiner rolled his eyes expressively and then flicked his wrist out in disgust.

"Very well. You have leave to satisfy my wife's curiosity," he said.

Amoretta pointedly stuck her tongue out at Grabiner, pulling an awful face. He made no verbal reply, but simply raised one finger silently in warning as he narrowed his eyes, and then regally turned his back on her. She rolled her eyes.

"William," she said, glancing sidelong at the ball of Raven on the sofa, "We've all been talking something over, and I'd like to know what you think about it."

William sat his mop bucket down and nodded once, his eyes flicking briefly toward Grabiner as if he was not entirely certain of his privileges when addressing his master's wife. "Yes, madam?" he asked deferentially.

Amoretta made another face and William wrinkled his nose in sympathy and then telegraphed his amused helplessness with his eyes. Grabiner still stood with his back to the both of them, so this minor rebellion went unnoticed and uncommented upon. With her own eye roll, Amoretta shrugged and then nodded, resigned and willing to accept this new bit of dumb show they were obliged to engage in for Grabiner's enjoyment.

"Raven's got a problem," she said, thinking about how best how to frame the silent girl's dilemma without giving too much private information away. Raven had not confided in William, after all. "She's trying to decide whether or not she should declare emancipation. What she wants for herself and what her mother wants for her aren't exactly the same thing, and it doesn't seem like she'll be able to work it out easily with her mother. Her mom's at school now, waiting to talk to her, and we're all talking about whether or not Raven should go see her."

William turned to look at Raven appraisingly. She had uncurled slightly, and her pale face was visible. She was holding off tears for now, but she looked ashen and strained, and deeply in need of counsel.

"One way or another," he said. "You're going to have to tell her what you think. It's better now than later. Putting it off will only make it harder."

And with that, he picked up his mop bucket, and with a dutiful nod he passed Amoretta and moved into the hallway, where he clearly planned to continue his duties.

In the end, Raven decided to go see her mother.

In the garden, Amoretta stopped her, taking her hand and giving it a friendly squeeze.

"Listen, Raven," she said. "Don't feel pressured to make a decision if you're not ready yet. I know we've all been giving you advice, but I want you to know, if you're not ready to decide yet, then you don't have to. You're not even seventeen yet. You have time to figure out what to do with yourself. You can tell your mom that for now, you're staying with friends, trying to sort things out. And if it helps you figure things out, then you ought to know that I'm sure Hieronymous will let you sit in on our lessons while you're here." She grinned when the other girl looked down through her dark lashes, clearly uncertain. "Trust me. He'll do it," Amoretta assured, totally confident in her read of the situation. "He'll probably grumble about it, but he'll do it. He's got a soft spot for people in trouble," she finished with a wink, then tilted her head to the side. "Really, tell her that you're all right, and being looked after. Tell her how you feel as honestly as you can. I think Hieronymous is right that you shouldn't give her an ultimatum," Amoretta winced slightly. "Sorry, I should have thought that through better. When you do decide, I mean really decide, you can tell her. Until then, you can sort things out here, with us. Maybe together we can come up with a solution that you haven't thought of on your own, or maybe something as simple as distance will bring your mom around to your way of thinking. After all, sometimes it's time that opens doors," Amoretta shrugged. "It's worth a shot!"

Raven smiled then, and it was brief, but real.

"Thank you very much, Amoretta," she said haltingly. "I know I came unbidden, but my heart is touched to know that I am not necessarily unwanted. I do not wish to be burdensome for you and," she halted and hiccuped, "And, and, " At last she took a deep breath and steadied her tone again, "And your family."

"It's all right, really," Amoretta assured, then gave the pale, quiet girl a smile. "I'll go with you if you want," she offered seriously. "If you think that would help. Hieronymous can take us both by car, if you'd like. It's a bit of a walk, otherwise."

Raven shook her head.

"I'd really rather her not know I'm staying with you," Raven answered slowly. "I may tell her, but I may not, and if she sees you're with me, I'm sure she won't be long in figuring out my new address." Raven bit her lip. "Besides, this is something I have to do. She's my mother, after all. I need to face her myself."

Amoretta nodded. "I understand," she said. "And I believe in you! Now go out there and fight, tiger!" she said with a cheer. "And remember that when you're done, you have a place to come home to, no matter what."

Raven gave her another ghostly smile and then seemed to steel her nerve and went on her way.


As there was no class scheduled at Revane until the following week (depending on Grabiner's assessment of Amoretta's condition) Ellen Middleton found herself cut adrift. Like any other ordinary teenage girl experiencing an unexpected holiday from summer school, Ellen decided to use this windfall of free time to review and organize the notes she had taken in the time since she had come to study at the little school in the seaside cottage. She had engaged herself in her favorite carrel in the academy's library, holed up with a stack of books, her notes, and a bag of homemade cookies that Manuel had brought her that morning.

"After all," he'd said, tapping his temple with one finger as he flicked his ears to the sides of his head, "Sugar is good for your brain."

The small toad was another of the summer inmates of Iris Academy. He had stayed on to do an internship at The Glen during the holiday, and because of that he always seemed to have sweets to share with the other freshman students who had stayed on. Privately, Ellen thought he spent hours making them all treats during his free time, although the coyote boy insisted that he only ever brought extras and leftovers.

It was the way they took care of one another.

Ellen had been alone in the library for some time, diligently applying herself to her work, and occasionally munching on a cookie. At around eleven o'clock, another person had joined her: a bright, energetic-looking woman with short red hair, who was wearing yoga pants and cross trainers. She looked so thoroughly ordinary that Ellen imagined she was a visiting parent without really stopping to consider that at Iris Academy, visiting parents generally looked anything but ordinary. This interloper settled down on a sofa near the amply provided magazine rack and began to leaf through one of the periodicals.

For some time, the only noise in the library was the scratching of Ellen's pen and the whisper-flip of glossy pages.

Ellen was so engrossed in her work that she didn't realize that another person had entered the library until the woman on the sofa spoke up.

"Oh Ashley, it is good to see you," she said, discarding her magazine and moving forward to embrace the newcomer. "I've been so worried about you - "

The new arrival frowned and held up a hand to forestall the blissful reunion.

"Hyacinth," she said evenly. "I'm glad you're well."

The red-haired woman halted and frowned. "Ashley, you know I don't like being called that - "

"And you know that my name isn't 'Ashley,' mother," the girl said with an equal frown. "It's Raven."

"Ashley, please don't start that again," her mother said tiredly. "I've been all over everywhere looking for you these last few days and I'm very tired. Can't we just have a nice conversation for once, without having to be silly - "

"My name isn't silly, mother," Raven disagreed curtly.

"You know that's not how I meant it, honey," Hyacinth said placatingly. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. It's just been a long couple of weeks. Please, just come sit down, and we'll talk."

"Honestly," Raven said, cool and aloof, "I would rather stand."

"Ashley, don't be difficult," Hyacinth said, "I didn't come here to fight with you, sweetheart. I came here to take you home. Your sisters and I have been worried sick since we got your letter - "

"If you got my letter, then you know that I advised you not to concern yourself with my safety," Raven said.

"Sweetheart, of course I was going to worry," Hyacinth said, spreading her hands, "I'm your mother. You're a sixteen year old girl. You ran away from home - "

"I am also a witch," Raven said evenly. "And as such I am capable of looking after my own interests. You had no cause for alarm, mother. In the past, it was not uncommon for a girl of thirteen years to seek her own fortune. You needn't have worried."

"Ashley," Hyacinth said, putting her hands on her hips, "Now you're just being ridiculous. This isn't a fairy tale or one of your renaissance faire larp daydreams. You've had one year of schooling. You're not even half grown or half trained. The world is dangerous, Ashley. It is filled with very real dangers, with unscrupulous people who want to hurt you in very real ways, and you left no word of where you were going - "

"That is because I was not certain of my destination at the time," Raven answered stiffly. "But since I left home, I have had the good fortune of receiving a formal invitation to stay with friends. I have accepted this invitation, Hyacinth, and therefore I am afraid I am unable to attend Marigold Hill Girl's Camp this summer. I again ask that you not worry about me until I request assistance. My situation is comfortable and I will be well cared for. I even intend to seek supplemental education in the form of tutelage."

"Cindy," Hyacinth cut in, "If you won't call me 'mom,' at least call me Cindy," she said, rubbing her temples. "I still don't see why you're so hung up about going to camp, Ashley. It's a very nice camp, and I'm sure you'll make some nice friends there. You really do need to try and make some friends, Ashley," she said gently. "Nothing good comes from sitting around all day being gloomy. I won't let you spend your whole summer locked up in your room reading dusty old books, ignoring me and the girls and everybody else. You need to socialize with people your own age, Ashley-bug. You need to get out into the real world and make friends. I'm not asking you to change yourself, but you do need to try and be a little more outgoing - "

"I am not 'gloomy,'" Raven said with a frown. "And I do have friends - "

"The cat doesn't count - "

"I'm not talking about Archimedes - " Raven denied. "I have real, actual human friends," she insisted. "If I didn't, who then would I be staying with?" she demanded with a faint note of triumph.

Hyacinth looked mildly uncomfortable. "Ashley, I'm worried about you," she said. "I love you very much, honey. I just want you to come home where I know you're safe. If you come home, I promise we'll talk about camp - "

"No," Raven said, shaking her head so that her hair flurried. "No. I know what that means. It means we'll 'talk about it for a while' and then you'll tell me what you've decided. I'm not going home with you, Hyacinth. I have a safe place to stay, and that's where I'm staying. I'm sorry that it has to be this way, but it does."

"Ashley - "

"That is not my name," Raven spat out.

"Please calm down, honey," Hyacinth tried.

"This conversation is over," Raven said flatly. "I'm going," she swallowed hard. "I'm going home. Not to your home. To my home. If you want to talk to me, you can address your letters to Iris Academy. The headmistress will see that I get them, I'm certain of it."

Then she turned on her heel.

"Ashley, please wait," Hyacinth said, beginning to cry.

"We're through talking," Raven said, without turning around.

And then without another word, Raven Darkstar left the library. Hyacinth sat down on the sofa and put her head in her hands.

Behind her shielding tower of books, Ellen could not escape the fact that the woman had begun crying. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She hadn't meant to eavesdrop, but the confrontation between Raven and her mother had happened so suddenly that she hadn't known how to make her presence known. She was unsure of what to do and had just decided to remain completely still in hopes that Raven's mother would eventually leave and the awkward situation would pass on its own when she moved very slightly and her elbow bumped into the precariously stacked tower of books. They fell to the ground with a resounding crash, leaving Ellen red-faced and totally exposed.

Hyacinth looked up at the sudden commotion and her eyes locked with Ellen's. Then she hastily wiped the tears from her face and seemed to be trying to muster a friendly smile.

Cursing her awful timing, Ellen got nervously to her feet. There was no avoiding it now. She would have to talk and hope she didn't make an even bigger mess of things.

"Hello," she said awkwardly. "I'm Ellen Middleton. I've just finished my first year, so I'm one of your daughter's classmates. I'm sorry, Mrs. Darkstar. I really didn't mean to eavesdrop - "

A look of confusion passed across the older woman's face, and Ellen worried that she'd somehow said something inappropriate, but then she brightened suddenly, as if she'd understood something.

"Oh, my name isn't Darkstar," she laughed. "I forget sometimes that that's what Ashley tells people to call her. My name is Cindy Peabody. It's very nice to meet you," she said, rising to offer her hand.

Ellen shook it briefly, then asked in confusion, "Ashley? Her name isn't really Raven Darkstar?"

Hyacinth Peabody shrugged weakly. "I suppose it is, technically. A couple of years ago she managed a ritual to change her name and of course, she picked the absolute silliest thing she could think of," Cindy said with a sigh. "It made quite a stir at the school she was attending at the time, when she showed up one day demanding to be called 'Raven Darkstar.' It's no wonder they thought she was a little 'round the bend - I do mean that in the nicest possible way, you understand. She never had many friends, and she was often teased, and I'm afraid that just made things worse for her. Ashley has always made a target of herself," Hyacinth said with a frown. "I don't really know why, but she's determined to make things as hard as possible for herself. Her name is Ashley Jennifer Peabody. She's my baby girl. To me, she'll always be my little Ashley-bug. I just can't help it." She sniffled and pulled a tissue from her pocket to rub under her nose. "I'm sorry you had to see all that. I do love Ashley very much, you know? I'm just worried about her. It seems like all we do is fight, nowadays. I want it to be like it was, when she'd let me put her hair up for her, and we'd all go to the park together - " She broke off and looked away. "I'm sorry. You certainly don't want to hear all of this."

Ellen shook her head and moved to sit on the sofa across from Raven's mother.

"No, honestly," she said seriously. "I don't mind." She meant it, too. While at first it had been awkward and difficult, now Ellen could not help but feel sympathetic toward the pretty woman crying into a crumpled tissue over her moody daughter. "And really, I think you sound very reasonable. She ran away from home. Of course you're worried about her! You wouldn't be much of a mother if you weren't," Ellen said with a frown. "I know if I - " She broke off suddenly and shook her head. "Honestly, I can't believe she'd do something as dangerous as run off by herself. That's crazy - "

"It's not the first time she's done it either," Hyacinth said sadly, shaking her head. "Usually she just runs off to someone's house, and once they realize she's gone without permission, and that I'm worried about her, they'll call me up to come get her. It used to be embarrassing, but now I'm used to it, I guess. I've been hoping that maybe she'd just grow out of acting like this over time. Last year she ran off and was gone for a day and a half and no one knew where she was. The police found her sleeping in a tree on a playground and they brought her home. But this time - we checked all the regular places, you know, the places she used to go when she'd run off for a few hours - but there was nothing, and that letter. It sounded so final. Honestly, I've been worried sick. I was worried she might have hurt herself, maybe on purpose, that she was somewhere where I couldn't help her. Ashley is, well," Hyacinth looked at the floor briefly, "She's very imaginative. And she can be very dramatic. And she isn't always very cheerful, so when I got that letter - "

"You thought that she might have done something extreme," Ellen finished, biting at her lip.

"I didn't have to wonder," Hyacinth said seriously. "She already had done something extreme: she'd run away from home. She couldn't have had very much money, and no one I knew had seen her. I had no idea where she was sleeping, or even if she'd had enough to eat. A pretty, sixteen year old girl completely on her own with no place to go - somebody might have done something to her, they might have killed her - "

Ellen nodded sympathetically and then did her best to comfort the distraught mother.

"Well, at least you know she's all right, now," she said. "She didn't seem hurt, and although I do think she was very rude to you, at least you know she's safe."

Hyacinth shook her head. "I knew she was safe as of twenty minutes ago. But I have no idea who she's staying with, or what their motives are for letting her stay. I have no idea how she's being treated, or what they'll let her do, what they may encourage her to do." She bowed her head slightly. "I don't mean to involve you in this, and I'm sorry for telling you so much, but there is something you need to understand about Ashley. I don't mean to speak badly of her. She's my daughter and I love her the most of anyone in the world, but I mentioned that she's imaginative - well, maybe delusional would be a better word. She's unhappy with the life I've given her, I guess, and so she's made up a new one to suit herself. She's created this great big dramatic story where she's a tragic, mistreated heiress destined for greatness, and I'm the horrible villain who wants to keep her from this made up destiny she's invented for herself. Really," she offered her hands palms up helplessly. "I'm not exaggerating. Just let her talk for a while, and I'm sure you'll get to hear all about 'the terrible curse of our family,' and a whole lot of other nonsense she's made up. There is no curse on the Peabodys, and she has a very nice home near Cambridge where she lives with me and her two sisters. This time she seems to have run away from home because I arranged for her to go to summer camp. If she had just told me that she didn't want to go, instead of running off - " She sighed. "But this isn't really about summer camp. Ashley spends all her time and energy focusing on things that she's made up because she doesn't want to look at the things that are in front of her. That's a problem, and I worry it's only going to get bigger and bigger if she refuses to acknowledge it."

Ellen shifted uncomfortably where she sat, suddenly uncertain. "Mrs. Peabody, you are, um," she paused awkwardly, unsure of how to politely ask, "Your family is, um, from the traditions - "

Hyacinth seemed puzzled for a moment but then smiled companionably. "Oh, yes. The Peabodys are witch folk and we always have been. It's not like I want Ashley to give up magic, or not be a witch. Of course that's the first thing you'd think of, being a wildseed." When Ellen couldn't keep the surprise from her face, Hyacinth winked at her. "It's nothing to be ashamed of. Don't worry about it! But there aren't any Middletons that I know of among the witchborn, and we all know one another, you know? We're always getting under one another's feet, and everyone remembers that embarrassing thing you did at your seventh birthday party. The witch world gets a little claustrophobic sometimes. It's good to see new faces."

Ellen flushed a little and nodded.

"I don't want Ashley to give up who she wants to be," Hyacinth said with a sad smile. "But eventually she'll have to face the fact that reality isn't what she'd like it to be, that the world isn't a fairy tale with a happily ever after. After school she'll have to get a job, and learn to drive, and go grocery shopping, and pay her own rent and bills. I don't know how to make her understand how important it is to learn how to do all of these things. She's in love with an ideal world that isn't real, where her destiny will conveniently solve all her problems. Being a witch doesn't make you the heroine of a romance novel. Magic is wonderful and interesting and of course, it's who we are, but it doesn't guarantee a life without troubles and hard work." Hyacinth rubbed her forehead tiredly, "Ashley wants to marry a nobleman, and rub shoulders with archwizards, and have people throw flowers at her feet. She's always talking about being swept away from the dull, everyday world into mystery and enchantment, but that simply doesn't happen, certainly not to sixteen year olds from Massachusetts - "

It happened to one from New Hampshire, Ellen thought dazedly, but she wasn't sure how to explain all this to Raven's mother, so she remained silent. The course of Amoretta's life in the time Ellen had known her was so bizarre and unexpected, filled with the sort of action one might find in a dime novel, that Ellen was not sure she could have related it anyway. At the moment, her short, dizzy friend was the wife of a baron, married to her teacher who was the son of an archmage viscount, waited on by a doting magical butler, and living in a seaside cottage so lovely that it might have come from an impressionist painting. She sang songs to the flowers in her ever-blooming garden and had little birds that rode around on her shoulder. Ellen was fairly certain that the air around her sparkled and glimmered wherever she walked, rose petals drifted in the hollows of her footsteps, and that the sound of chimes and tubular bells accompanied her movement.

If a shaft of sunlight pierced through the clouds on an otherwise grim day, then that shaft would illuminate Amoretta, as surely as a spotlight cue in a theatrical production. Ellen had seen it happen.

But honestly, Hyacinth Peabody was right. Amoretta's life was so fantastical that it was beyond extraordinary. It was so perfect that if Ellen hadn't been an eyewitness to much of it that she would have been very willing to believe that it was purely fictional. It was understandable that Raven's mother was worried about her daughter's future. Not everyone could count on marrying a competent, independently wealthy adult with a private house and income.

Nor should they want to, she thought resolutely to herself. Things had turned out well between Amoretta and Grabiner, but Ellen refused to wear rose-colored glasses. That they had turned out well was easily as miraculous as a schoolgirl marrying a baron in the first place. Her friend had a strange, personal magic beyond what they learned in school. She seemed to be able to grow flowers in salted earth.

But a schoolgirl becoming involved with a much older man with a reputation for being ill-tempered and unpleasant was not an event that Ellen would have described as a positive course for anyone's future, let alone a person as aloof and detached as the girl she had known as Raven Darkstar. Amoretta was an obvious exception, and as far as Ellen knew she hadn't arrived at school counting on marrying a rich, expatriate aristocrat who just happened to be moonlighting as a school instructor.

If she did, she's even loonier than I thought, Ellen thought to herself, mentally rolling her eyes.

But that was unfair. While Amoretta was unorthodox and eccentric, she wasn't really loony. Ellen couldn't always agree with her often reckless and yet remarkably resilient friend, but she did respect her. Amoretta was extremely capable and competent. She wouldn't pin all her hopes on the tail of a star that was nothing but a high flying airplane on a cross-country flight.

She had more self-respect, too. Amoretta's dreams were bigger than a convenient fairy tale happily-ever-after, Ellen knew it. Amoretta was strange, and unique, and brilliant, and she deserved the strange, unique, and brilliant future she was building for herself, because she was building it for herself.

But Raven - Ashley? It was easy for Ellen to understand her now. She was like Virginia, waiting for something spectacular to happen so that her life could begin, lazy and uninterested in the hard work and dedication that nurturing one's talents demanded. She was the sort of person who made excuses for her own failures, blaming them on poor circumstances, or fate, or some sort of bizarre conspiracy, unwilling to take responsibility for herself and her own shortcomings. She was high strung and melodramatic, and didn't appreciate how lucky she was to have a safe, comfortable home and a family who loved her. She wanted fame and fortune and a free ride, an all expenses paid trip to the sort of vague happy ending that was only available at the end of a romantic comedy. It was all very childish and selfish, and she either couldn't see or didn't care how much she was hurting her own mother, who just wanted a safe, happy future for her daughter. What Raven wanted was to be loved and adored and pampered without having done anything to deserve it.

Ellen snapped back from her distracted reverie when she realized that Hyacinth was still talking to her.

"Thank you for listening, Ellen," she said kindly. "I really do appreciate it. You're staying here over the summer, aren't you? I don't suppose - " Her eyes dropped again. "I'm worried about Ashley. If I left you my address, do you think you might drop me a line every once in awhile, just to tell me she's all right? I know she's not staying at the school, but since she says she'll pick up her mail here, she must be staying somewhere nearby. I expect you'll see her more than I will, this summer." Her smile was sad, and tinged with regret.

Ellen nodded immediately. "Of course," she said. "I'd be happy to do that. And I really am sorry she's putting you through all this. You're being very understanding. I'm sure it's very hard on you."

"It hasn't been easy," Hyacinth admitted with a rueful shrug, "But what else can I do? She's my daughter. I can't not love her. I can't not worry about her. Loving their children, worrying about their children, it's just a thing that mothers do."

And at that, Ellen smiled and at last moved back to her carrel to pick up her scattered books.


Ellen was met at the familiar entry door to Revane's grounds by Amoretta Grabiner herself, who had one chicken on her shoulder, and another trailing behind her, cackling. Barred from classroom exercises, Amoretta had apparently not been forbidden other moderate activity. She was on vacation during her vacation, which is a somewhat more ordinary way to spend one's summer holiday than magic school and near death experiences.

"I'm going to clean out the cowshed in a bit," she volunteered cheerily. "William is going to help me set up a train loop and a model village on a table out there as soon as all the pieces come in. Isn't that exciting? I'd really like to set up a model of Iris Academy, but then I really would have to paint and customize a lot of miniatures myself. Still, it would be fun to route a train right through the quad. I could also put a little light-up carousel in front of Horse Hall. I think we deserve one, don't you?"

Ellen seemed to to be thinking something over, and so she didn't respond immediately. When she did respond, it was with a vague smile.

Amoretta's brows drew together and she briefly waved a hand in front of her friend's face. "Are you all right, Ellen?"

This startled Ellen and she nodded once, coming back to herself.

"Oh, I'm fine. Sorry. I studied all morning so I'm sure my head is still a jumble," Ellen said sheepishly.

"Well, if you like you can come sit with me while I tidy things in the cowshed," Amoretta said with a smile. "I know it's not terribly exciting, but that's what I was planning to do this afternoon. Don't feel like I'm drafting you into hard labor. I'd just enjoy the company."

Ellen shook her head. "I don't mind helping," she said, "But I do have a couple of questions for the professor. I don't want to fall behind in my studies just because we aren't officially in class this week."

Amoretta grimaced. "Sorry about that," she apologized. "If I hadn't gone and gotten ill we'd still be up to tricks as usual."

Ellen frowned. "You don't have to apologize," she said earnestly. "I wouldn't even have an opportunity to study here if you hadn't suggested to Professor Grabiner that he invite me in the first place. Anyway, I'm just glad you're okay."

Her eyes moved to Amoretta's shoulder. Some inky lines from the circles inscribed against her skin were just visible on her neck. The collar of her t-shirt was not high enough to cover them.

"I'm fine," Amoretta assured her. "Anyway, of course I wanted you to study with me. Through thick and thin, right?" she held up two fingers, crossed over one another. "You're doing the both of us a favor, really. Honestly, I dunno how much work we'd get done during class time if it were just the two of us. With you around, he insists I'm not quite so badly behaved," she laughed.

The color rose in Ellen's cheeks and she laughed awkwardly.

"I'll just, um, go see the professor now," she said, nodding as if to convince herself that her errand was valid and not just an excuse to get away from the uncomfortably frank observations of Amoretta Grabiner.

"Sure thing!" the smaller girl said with a grin. "I'll be out in the cowshed when you're finished. Oh, and check out how shiny the floors are when you go inside! I think Hieronymous may have William polishing them with forbidden magic or something. You can pretty much see your reflection. It's a little unsettling."

The two girls parted and Ellen headed up to the house, pausing for a moment among the nodding flowers of the chimerical garden. She breathed deeply, and the floral scent was calming, although she knew it was made of the stuff of dreams rather than the stuff of more ordinary matter.

This was a good place. This was a safe, comfortable place.

She was lucky to have it.

She was fortunate in her friendship with both the mistress and the master of the house.

It was not something she might have imagined for herself the summer previous: sitting alone in her room in the oppressive August heat and trying to read a favorite book for the fiftieth time, or swimming laps at the pool and listening to the laughter and shouts of friends and families who were engaged in games, races, or cookouts.

It wasn't as if it had been awful. It had just been lonely.

She thought back to the words Amoretta had spoken so passionately and honestly during the spring term.

It isn't something I planned out. It isn't anything I expected, but maybe everything's like that. I'm happy because this is what I've chosen.

Ellen was happy, despite everything, despite everything that had been hard and ugly, despite a home she could never return to, and recognition that would never again flicker in the eyes of the person who had given birth to her. It was easier to be forgotten than to be despised, after all.

She was making her own place.

That would have to be good enough.

She went into the house.

And there on the sofa in front of the window sat Raven Darkstar, apparently engrossed in a novel. She was reading Jude the Obscure.

"I might have known," Ellen said with resignation. It made perfect sense. Where else might Raven Darkstar - Ashley Jennifer Peabody - have holded up but at Revane Cottage with the Grabiners. Now her comment about arranging summer tuition for herself made more sense.

That means I'll have to put up with her in class, Ellen lamented silently.

When she spoke, Raven looked up, and tilted her head slightly to the side.

"Yes?" she asked. "May I help you, Miss Middleton? I believe that the professor is in his atelier, and the lady is out with her chickens, at the moment."

Ellen could not keep her lip from curling slightly. This upstart girl had been at Revane for a matter of hours and she was already acting like a permanent resident. Ellen pressed her teeth against her lower lip and struggled to remain civil.

"Yes, I know," she said. "I saw her. She let me in."

"Oh, I suppose she must have," Raven said idly, then as if Ellen didn't interest her particularly, her eyes dropped back to her book.

Ellen stared at her for a moment as if she didn't quite comprehend that she had been dismissed, but then she cleared her throat. She had quite a lot to say to the girl who called herself Raven Darkstar.

"Raven," she began, and the dark-haired girl looked up from her book again.

"Yes, Miss Middleton?" she asked, and Ellen could not help but think she sounded slightly bored. "Do you need something?"

"I spoke to your mother this afternoon," Ellen said seriously, resolving to drive straight to the heart of the issue.

"Oh?" Raven asked blandly, and then her eyes dropped to her book again. "I'm sure you had a splendid conversation. Hyacinth loves to talk, particularly about things she doesn't understand and that are not her business."

"That's your mother you're talking about," Ellen objected, mortified.

"Yes, that is true," Raven answered absently. "Hyacinth did expel me from her womb some years ago."

"Do you have any idea how much you've worried her by acting the way that you're acting?" Ellen demanded, still incensed at Raven's flippant attitude.

"I have some idea, yes," Raven said with a shrug. "After all, she tells me in triplicate every time I try to talk things out with her. Honestly, I'm tired of hearing about it." Raven had still not looked up from her book. "I might be interested in listening if she ever said anything different, but it's always the same old refrain. I don't suppose she mentioned that she never listens to anything I have to say - "

"I can't believe that you're so conceited and self-absorbed that you can't understand how much you're hurting your own mother," Ellen said angrily. "She loves you. She's concerned for your welfare and your future and you've worried her sick, and all over something as stupid as going to summer camp. You ran away from home! That's enough to get you sent to juvenile hall, or worse. She's been all over the countryside looking for you - "

"I never asked her to look for me," Raven said, cool and aloof. "I left a letter that made my intentions perfectly clear. I also told Hyacinth not to worry about me. I am more than capable of looking after myself."

"Which is why you're staying here, uninvited, with people who obviously don't want you, people who are only tolerating you because they're too responsible to throw you out on the street, where you would be completely homeless," Ellen cut in sharply.

"I was invited - " Raven defended, her cheeks flushing crimson. "I am here at Amoretta Grabiner's personal invitation."

"You were invited after the fact," Ellen guessed, and knew she'd guessed right when Raven winced slightly. "Don't congratulate yourself on the fact that Amoretta likes you. You're not her bosom buddy, if that's what you've told yourself. As far as I can tell, she still likes Damien Ramsey. She's too soft-hearted to realize that you're a selfish, spoiled fraud. No one's hurting you at home. I met your mother and she's incredibly nice and understanding. Honestly, she has a lot more patience with you than I would. You just like to invent drama to make yourself feel important. You can't appreciate how lucky you are. You don't care at all about all the wonderful things you have: a mother who loves you, sisters who are worried about you, a nice home - "

"What do you know about my life?" Raven asked, throwing her hand out dismissively. "What do you know about how I feel about my mother, or how she feels about me? What do you know about spending years incarcerated in a school with a whole lot of lowbrow imbeciles who couldn't even have spelled the word 'culture' with the help of a dictionary? About people washing their hands after they accidentally touch you, or asking to be your friend, or telling you you're pretty as a joke? Where the regular laugh is that you're a whore because you developed early, and since none of the other students will so much as look at you, you do favors for the janitors so you won't be disturbed when you spend all day crying in the bathroom? What do you know about going for help to someone who tells you it's your fault when you're bullied, that if you only tried harder to fit in that people might actually like you. What do you know about having your dreams mocked and stepped on? You're imagining that my life has been a splendid, never-ending picnic - well, it hasn't. You cannot fathom the absolute hell and misery that I have endured. I alone in my family seem to have realized what it is that we have lost. I am ridiculed for my interest in the past. I am ridiculed because I care about the family traditions. I remember who we were, and I am bound that I will wake the family legacy or die trying. I will be who I am meant to be, not the person that Hyacinth wants to make me into."

"You're being absolutely ridiculous and melodramatic. You come from a nice, middle class family. You've never known any real hardship or trouble, which is why you feel like you've got to make up problems for yourself to feel special. But let me tell you something," Ellen said fiercely, her eyes dangerously narrowed, "Some of us have real problems. You think you're so smart and sophisticated," Ellen said with a dismissive roll of her shoulder. "You're just sixteen, but you think you know better than somebody who's a lot older and more experienced than you are. You should listen to your mother. For one thing, she's not morbid and delusional - "

" - I am not morbid and delusional! And I am almost seventeen," Raven cut in, but Ellen ignored her.

"As if it makes a difference. Your mother has your best interests at heart. Besides," Ellen said with a look of superior triumph, ready to unleash an assault that she was sure would guarantee unconditional surrender, "You live in your mother's house, so you should abide by her rules - "

"Which is why I no longer live in my mother's house," Raven said archly. "I refuse to be held hostage by outdated ideas of filial piety. Besides, I am quite loyal to my family line, and I respect and venerate my elders," Raven said with a sniff. "Just not my mother. I am her child, not her property. I owe her nothing. But you're just a wildseed, so what would you know about family traditions? It's not like you have any to keep yourself. It's no wonder you're on my mother's side. You don't know anything about anything," Raven finished dismissively.

"Someday you're going to wake up and realize how absolutely stupid you've been, or at least I sincerely hope you will. Has it occurred to you that your mother just wants you to be safe - " Ellen asked, furious.

"She wants me to be ordinary," Raven denied immediately. "And quite honestly, I'd rather be dead than ordinary," she shot back.

"I'm beginning to think that you're actually crazy," Ellen said incredulously, her teeth gritted together. "Not just run of the mill drama queen crazy, but genuine mental institution crazy. Are you really saying you want to be dead - "

"I'd rather die than be a coward," Raven snapped, then frowned before continuing to speak. "My mother, Hyacinth, she's terrified of taking chances. She never pushes herself. She never dares. She never has. She's never wanted anything that's obscured beyond the far horizon. She has contented herself with small dreams, with mediocrity, and it terrifies her that I refuse to plod along after her like a tame animal. She's also angry, because she doesn't think anyone ought to succeed where she failed. My soul is written in poetry, and hers seems to be written like the ingredients list on the back of a can of discount ravioli," Raven grimaced in distaste, but then seemed to shake off her disgust. "But despite everything, I will make my own way. You're not an exceptional person, so you wouldn't understand," Raven retorted imperiously.

"You're just a stupid, selfish, melodramatic teenaged girl - " Ellen said.

"And you're a nosy know-it-all who butts into other people's business without invitation," Raven said venomously. "It's a wonder you have any friends left at all - "

"Well, at least I have friends," Ellen nearly shrieked. "Other than my cat - "

"Leave Archimedes out of this!"

"I can't understand why anyone bothers to tolerate you," Ellen hissed back. "You're a shallow, delusional snob who's insensitive and reckless. And you know what? You think you're so elegant and dark and ladylike? Well, you're not. You're not mysterious and enticing. You're a joke. You're a delinquent. You dress yourself like you're going to a cheap Halloween party, and that soul name you gave yourself? I'd be too embarrassed to let anybody call me that, ever."

"You know, I was wrong. I suppose you are exceptional at one thing," Raven corrected herself, her eyes glittering. "Mediocrity. No one can surpass you when it comes to being average and unremarkable. It's like you're a winning bingo card of being common and ordinary. Ellen Middleton: the Ordinary and Mediocre."

"I may be average, but I work hard," Ellen shot back, tears stinging at her eyes. "I work as hard as I can, but you don't understand what it means to work for anything, do you Ashley?"

"Don't call me that!" Raven shrieked. "You have no right - "

"Ashley," Ellen spat out. "Ashley, Ashley, Ashley. Ashley Peabody. You're about as dark and mysterious as a bowl of macaroni and cheese."

"That is not my name," Raven roared back, drawing her wand from her sleeve.

But Ellen hadn't spent more than a month at practical exercises under the eye of such a perfectionist as Hieronymous Grabiner to be beaten in a wand draw. An electrical spell was out of her mouth before she had time to think about it, and Raven Darkstar avoided being shocked only by throwing herself desperately to the floor. She rolled as she fell and struggled to get to her feet, so Ellen knew she hadn't given up the fight.

But before either girl could do anything further, there was the sharp retort of a booted foot against the stone floor. Grabiner had teleported into the space directly between them.

"Enough!" he said sharply, throwing his arm out. He cast his eyes down at the girl on the rug. "Miss Darkstar, I might remind you that you have been invited to stay at this house as a courtesy. I know I did not explicitly state this before, but I would prefer if you refrained from attacking our other guests."

He turned to Ellen with a frown, "And honestly, Miss Middleton, I am disappointed. I had thought you more sensible than to draw your wand in such a circumstance. You are considerably more advanced than she is, and could have hurt her badly. To draw your wand without sufficient provocation is madness, and a very good way to get yourself killed."

"But she drew first - " Ellen protested, her cheeks hot.

"And you responded in kind, out of anger," he said shortly. "To defend yourself from an attack is one thing, but to respond with violence is another. Be careful who you draw on in the future, Miss Middleton, because you may find you do not escape so easily without injury." He glanced behind himself. "As it is, I believe you've fried the piano," he finished dryly. He crossed his arms over his chest as he looked at the both of them levelly. "I suggest you both cool your heads for a while. If we were at school, I'd give you both detention for a month, but as we are not at school, not even at my school, I will dispense with the pretense. I just ask that in the future, please try not to turn my sitting room into a fucking dueling arena." His voice rang like thunder when he swore, and both the girls ducked their heads, ashamed. Feeling that he had gotten his point across, Grabiner let his tone drop again to a more normal level. "Now, young ladies," he said the word icily, as if he found them more like wolverines than debutantes, "One of you should leave the room. I honestly do not care which, but you two obviously need to be separated for a while. Far be it from me to put either of you in the time out chair, being that you are both responsible and mature second year students now, but I will do just that if I find that I have no other alternative."

Ellen gritted her teeth and made ready to excuse herself, but before she could, Raven had gotten to her feet, one arm across her face, and stumbled toward the front door, hastily sobbing out an apology as she went.

As soon as she was gone, Grabiner appeared satisfied that the situation had been properly defused, and giving Ellen one last steady look of disapproval, he left to return to his workshop.


Amoretta was bellied up on top of an old wooden table in the cowshed, polishing it, when Raven dashed into the room, cast one fraught look at her, then threw herself down on a pile of clean straw and began sobbing noisily. More than anything else, Amoretta was confused by this turn of events. As far as she knew, Raven had come back from Iris Academy weary but triumphant, and had settled down in the great room to read, as a way of easing her nerves. Of course, there might have been something else - something the girl hadn't yet shared about her circumstances or her meeting with her mother. It was all a very tangled ball of yarn in Amoretta's opinion.

And so she tossed away the polishing cloth and went to go sit on the straw near Raven. The girl was still crying desperately, like a lost soul that cannot be comforted, no matter the measure of comforts offered.

"What's wrong?" she asked, hoping desperately for some easily remedied disaster like 'there's no more chocolate ripple ice cream in the freezer' or 'I spilled cherry soda on my favorite pajamas.'

"I'm a horrible person," Raven sobbed. "Everyone hates me and I don't understand why."

After this admission, muffled because it was delivered directly into the pile of straw, she collapsed back into shuddering sobs and seemed unable to give further account of herself or her troubles.

Well, that was considerably more difficult to sort out than just finding more chocolate ripple ice cream or employing some spot detergent. Like most of the troubles that turned up under her feet, it was a higher order problem, although surely not insoluble. Amoretta drew her knees up to her chest and settled into the straw, since it seemed like this would take some talking to get through.

"Raven," she said slowly, "You're not a horrible person, first thing. Second thing, not everybody hates you. I don't hate you, for starters," she pointed out.

"But you like everybody," Raven cried pitifully into the straw. "Ellen says you still like Damien. Ellen says the only reason you like me is because you don't have enough sense not to."

Ellen. This was something to do with Ellen then. Amoretta contained a sigh. She'd thought there'd been something on the blonde witch's mind when she'd arrived at the door earlier, but Ellen had been strangely uncommunicative. Amoretta hadn't imagined that sending one of her friends into the house might cause another of them to run out crying, but here was Raven, apparently inconsolable. Amoretta didn't think the dark haired girl was putting on a show for her hostess's benefit either, despite the girl's considerable qualifications as a thespian. She seemed to honestly be in the depths of despair. Amoretta felt badly for her, because she was obviously hurting.

"I like lots of different people," Amoretta agreed with a half smile at the empty air. There was no one here to watch her smiling at nothing, and yet she did it anyway, as a comfort to herself. To trace the shape of something was to make it true. She let her hand drop to touch the top of Raven's dark head. It was hot from the sunshine streaming in through the open door. "And I like them all in different ways. I like people for themselves, Raven. I like you because you're you. How I feel about other people really doesn't come into it at all."

"But you don't even know me," Raven protested, beating her fists weakly against the straw. "If you did, if you knew what I was really like, then I'm sure you'd hate me the same way that everybody else does."

Amoretta kept calmly stroking Raven's hair. "It's true that I don't know you very well yet," she said with a nod. "But I'm getting to know you. Every time we talk, I'm getting to know you better. Right now I know that you're thoughtful and generous and very creative. I'm sure that there are lots and lots of other things that I'm going to find out about you as we get to know one another, but you ought to understand, I'm never going to find out something about you that'll make me not like you," Amoretta said with a shrug. "That's just the way I am. We all have things about ourselves that we don't like," she said soothingly. "You, me, everybody. I think we ought to learn to like those things about ourselves. They're us, right? It isn't very easy, but that's the idea, anyway. If I find out something about you that confuses me, then I need to try and understand it. But I won't ever hate you. That's just not something that I do."

Raven's terrible sobs had subsided somewhat and she rolled onto her back, her face red and blotchy, little bits of straw littering her hair.

"You know, my soul isn't really as dark as the yawning maw of Tartarus," she confessed, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath after her prolonged bout of crying.

"It's not?" Amoretta asked politely, trying not to stare pointedly at Raven's heaving bosom. It was very hard not to stare, although Amoretta was trying her best to stay focused on what Raven had to tell her.

"It's all pretend," Raven said with a weak laugh, throwing her wrist across her eyes as if she could no longer bear the sight of the world. She could certainly no longer bear the sight of herself. "It's always been pretend. I had to practice being cool and aloof for so long - " she sniffled loudly and then rubbed her hand across her nose. "When I was little, I was really loud. I was busy. I used to run around everywhere barefoot. During the summers at the big house - I mean Porphyrogene - I used to collect beetles and butterflies and all sorts of other little things like that, and I would make believe that I fought monsters that lived underneath the staircases with swords made of sticks from the garden. I talked constantly. I talked to anyone who would listen to me. I used to roll myself down the hill for fun - not inside of anything, not a wagon or even an old tire. I would just roll down the hill in the grass for hours. I climbed trees. I fell out of trees. I was what you would call a tomboy. I had no structure, no discipline, no restraint. None of those things come naturally to me, I'm afraid. I had to learn them all, and it was very difficult."

"Why did you learn them, then?" Amoretta prompted, because Raven clearly had a story to tell.

"Grandfather," Raven answered immediately, and Amoretta could hear the warmth in her voice. Then she shook her head. "It wasn't as if he forced me. He made no demands on me. But you see, I loved all of grandfather's stories, all of his stories of the great magics, and of the times before. I wanted to learn what he had to teach me." Raven laughed and it was soft. "He was reluctant at first, as you might imagine, to agree to teach a wild little girl. He told me that it would be very hard," she shook her head again, and Amoretta could see the whisper of a smile on her mouth as she continued. "But he never told me it was impossible. He never told me that I couldn't, or that I shouldn't try, and so I tried. That was what it took, in the beginning, to make a wild girl settle. I wanted to learn. I wanted to see into the past that grandfather carried with him. I wanted to go into the night and not be afraid of it. I wanted to learn what the shadows had to say, and how to whisper into the darkness."

Raven sat up at last, and the straw stuck wildly out of her hair. She looked somber and pensive.

"You see, to learn what grandfather had to teach me, I had to have balance. I also needed a cool temper and a great deal of patience. I started learning those things when I was six years old. I studied with grandfather whenever mother would let me. When I was little, mother didn't mind it," Raven shrugged. "I think she was just glad grandfather and I got along so well. He doesn't always get on so well with Hyacinth, you see," she said with weak smile. "That's mother's name. She hates it. Prefers to be called 'Cindy,' although I cannot fathom why." Raven shook her head. "Grandfather was very kind to me, but strict. I think he understood that he had to be, to teach me what he had to teach. I studied with him until a little before my eleventh birthday. That was when the house was finally shut up and he went to live in Reverie. By that point I had learned enough to direct my own studies, although he did continue to give suggestions as to what I ought to read next through his letters. He left a lot of valuable books in my care when he closed up the house. I brought the most precious ones with me, because I couldn't bear to leave them behind, but I'm afraid the rest are in Hyacinth's custody at the moment."

Raven sighed loudly and looked down at the floor of the cowshed. "I suppose you know at this point, but I'm not very good at making friends." Then she shook her head and covered her face with her hands. "That's not true," she admitted. "And I know it better than anyone. The truth is, I'm absolutely terrible at making friends. I don't have any friends at all, outside of my cat," she sniffled. "And you," she added in a small voice. "If you're willing to be counted as such."

Amoretta put her arm around Raven's shoulders.

"Of course I'm your friend," she assured the other girl, then she tilted her head to the side. "Are you sure you don't have any other friends, though?" she asked curiously. "What about the other girls in Snake Hall? Barbara and Suki, what's-her-name, your roommate - "

"Maddie," Raven answered quietly. "And then there's Latoya. No, I don't have any friends among the Snakes. Honestly, Barbara is my sworn enemy, and that's enough to make being in Snake Hall difficult for me."

This was the first Amoretta had heard about any sworn enemies among the first year students at Iris Academy, but considering Raven's delicate state of mind, Amoretta decided to pursue this line of questioning at a later date. "You mean not even Suki - "

"No one is friends with Suki," Raven pointed out tiredly. "Not even Barbara. Suki just is. She spends most of her time talking to herself, or to trees, or rocks, or chests of drawers, or other things like that. No," she repeated. "Nobody."

This was news to Amoretta. Given how the Horses and Wolves generally hung together, she had assumed the other halls had a similar internal camaraderie. As a student council representative, she knew all of the freshman students, but she was certainly not an expert on their personal relationships. She knew the Horses, Wolves, and Falcons best. She had some experience with the Butterflies and Toads, but very little with the Snakes. Suki was certainly eccentric, but Amoretta generally thought of her as friendly and easy to get along with, although she understood the strange girl had given her husband a few headaches during the course of freshman year. Amoretta didn't like to think of Raven sitting and eating her lunch all alone, day after day. She didn't want to imagine Suki as friendless.

"Not even in Drama Club?" she asked, biting her lip

This brought the ghost of a smile to the pale girl. "Perhaps," Raven said slowly, but then the smile was gone and she shook her head. "Only one or two of the seniors, and even then I was more like a mascot than a friend." She looked away before adding, "Besides, they've both graduated now and I may never see them again - or at least, I'm not likely to see either of them while I remain a student."

"What about friends from before you came to Iris Academy?" Amoretta wondered, tapping a fingertip absently against her cheek. "Anybody you write to, or go visit on holidays?"

Raven laughed at this, a brief, bitter laugh. "As for my previous school, I would be very surprised to find that they're not burning me in effigy as we speak," she said.

This caused Amoretta to laugh, rich and sweet.

"You know," she said. "It seems to me that we're a lot alike, you and me," Amoretta pointed out.

"How, exactly, have you come to that conclusion?" Raven asked incredulously, her brow wrinkling.

Amoretta shrugged helplessly. "Before I came to Iris Academy, I didn't have any friends either. Not any human friends, at least," she said with a wry smile. "I made really good friends with a lot of snakes and snails and lizards and squirrels and one three-legged skunk, but that's beside the point. And it's not that I didn't try, either," she said with an emphatic nod. "I really did try. I tried to be friendly. I tried to be honest and a good listener. I tried everything I could think of, really, but nothing ever worked. I was always by myself. I wondered if there was something wrong with me, something that rubbed people the wrong way, something they just couldn't like, no matter what," she said and smiled weakly, wrapping her own arms around herself. "It was lonely, you know? I tried to pretend like I wasn't bothered, that I really didn't mind being alone. I tried to pretend that I liked it, but the truth was, I was lonely. It was really hard." She squeezed her eyes shut and sat very still, thinking.

"What changed?" Raven wanted to know, rubbing at her nose as she sniffled.

Amoretta tilted her head to the side and her mouth wavered for a moment, uncertain, then she shook her head. "Nothing really," she said. "That's the funny thing. I've asked myself that over and over and over again. What changed? I certainly didn't - I mean, not really, not beyond how I'm always changing, day to day." She bit her lip. "I guess the thing that changed the most is - when I was little and everyone divided up on the playground to play, I was always leftover. So I always just played by myself. It's not like people were mean to me. They weren't. I always got along okay with everybody. But I wasn't anybody, really. It was like I didn't exist. I was just a name in a gradebook. It could have been any name, any girl, and it would have been just the same. I didn't matter to anyone." She shook her head. "And it happened, over and over again, for years and years and years. When I was away at private school I never even had any roommates. I was always in a single, even if everybody else was all paired up. I was always leftover, over and over again, until, I guess it just became something I expected. It's not like I was angry, or bitter, or anything. I was just sad. I was just lonely and sad." She closed her eyes briefly. "I was really excited to come to magic school," she said with a brief smile. "I thought, 'if there's any place where I won't be leftover - '" Amoretta trailed off thoughtfully.

"And you weren't leftover any more," Raven finished quietly, and Amoretta looked up, startled.

"I wasn't," Amoretta agreed, still puzzled. "It's strange," she said slowly. "After I got over my feelings of dread and terror that first day when I collided with Hieronymous, what I felt most was, well, this will probably sound silly," she laughed awkwardly, "What I felt was a sense of being where I needed to be in the universe. The first time we really talked together privately - all I could think was 'this is a person who understands me.' That was such a completely new feeling that I didn't know what to do at first. I stumbled around so awkwardly. I didn't know what to do or say. Everything I did was idiotic. It's like I had forgotten how to be human." She covered her face with her hands. "All I knew was, 'I want to talk to this person more. I want to talk to this person as much as possible. I have to do whatever is necessary so I can continue talking to this person.' I didn't have any great plans, really. I wasn't even any good at imagining romantic fantasies," she confessed with embarrassment. " I just wanted to talk to him. It was like he could understand me naturally, without thinking about it, no matter how strange or bizarre I was being. And it's not as if that made things easy or anything," she frowned. "Just because we could talk in the same language didn't mean that we agreed on anything. It didn't mean that he accepted anything. Things didn't fall into place painlessly. If anything, being with Hieronymous has been the most difficult, painful thing I have ever done in my entire life. It's difficult every day," she said with a grimace as her brows scrunched together. "But I am grateful for every moment of difficulty. Being alive is painful and glorious, and watching him has helped me understand that. What I found, when I met him, was a place to begin."

"Your story is very beautiful," Raven said with an inelegant sniffle. She still sounded a little nasal and stopped up from her crying jag and she squeaked in a very non-poetic way when she spoke. "I'm envious. I'm passionately envious of what you have, and I hate myself for it. I hate myself for being envious of you when you've been so kind to me. I'm horrible."

"I think what you're feeling now is really normal, so you shouldn't feel bad about your feelings, just try to understand them," Amoretta said thoughtfully. "I think some people struggle for years and years, maybe even their whole lives, without finding who they're meant to be. I'm really, really lucky that I stumbled on it so early. I'm really, really lucky that I crashed into Hieronymous - that he was there, at that moment in time, at that place. That's what a real miracle looks like, I think: that in this world full of countless iterations of events, we were able to meet one another. That is the nail the want of which would lose us the whole kingdom, maybe even the whole universe. That is true fortune, and much rarer than winning any lottery, I think."

She closed her eyes briefly, "Where I had been before, it's hard to explain. It wasn't that people had been horribly unkind to me in the past. It's not that I suffered constant slings and arrows every day of my life. It's not as if I hadn't been loved before I came here, even if that love was sometimes a distant love. I wouldn't say I had a terrible life. I was cared for. I was given all the things a child needs to live comfortably. But the truth is, I was used to being alone. I was used to being left over. I was used to being without self. I had just accepted that it would always be that way, that I would always be without, that I would always be alone, a person who could not be understood. Given the billions of people on this planet, some must be different enough that they will always be alone. I had accepted that I was one of those people. But I feel like, just being around Hieronymous, not romantically or anything, just near him, has helped me to be the person that I want to be. Maybe that's what changed: my context. It was like I was bunch of letters that didn't make sense on their own, but once we came close to one another, we became a word that could be read, not just by ourselves, but by other people too.

"I have a lot of amazing friends now," Amoretta said with a smile. "And they're all wonderful, and it's not like I don't think they like me for me. It's just that I think being around Hieronymous helps me to be me. I'm not sure that makes sense."

Raven sighed and said, "People love you, and I can understand why they do. You have a funny sort of sweetness. You're a little too peppy and over eager for it to be strictly comfortable sometimes, but even then your zeal is within tolerable levels." She frowned and looked down at the straw. "You're childish, but people can't seem to get enough of it. Everyone knows you sleep with a stuffed bunny rabbit, and that you spent so much time outside sledding this winter that they named one of the snow drifts after you, and that the only person who plays more pranks and serves more detentions than you do is Donald Danson. Everybody knows that you like princesses and fairy tales and that you wear kitten underwear."

Amoretta went pink, but Raven was still staring hard at the straw with tears standing at the corners of her eyes.

"Everybody knows all of those things," she repeated, "And they love you. But me," she shook her head hard and covered her face with her hands. "Me. I like fairy tales. I like happy endings. I like princesses. I like to play pretend. I like my cat. I like to read. I like dolls and stuffed animals. I'd rather eat sweets than dinner. But people don't love me for those things. They hate me for those things. I just," she choked as she sobbed into her hands, "I just don't understand why. I just want a chance. I just want a chance to prove that I can be loved, that I'm worth something."

"Raven, Raven," Amoretta mildly panicked, throwing her arms around the stricken girl. "No one hates you."

"Plenty of people hate me," was Raven's vehement reply. "They've told me so." She ducked her head and the next part was quiet and difficult to hear. "Even when they don't tell me, I know. You can tell when you're hated. And the worst part, the absolute worst part, isn't even being hated. It's being dismissed, like you don't matter at all, like you're not even there. The worst part is when people don't care enough to hate you. They just think you're worthless. I'm always making a fool of myself, no matter how hard I try. I want to be strong and lovely and generous, but instead I'm weak and terrified. I don't want to be hated, but I don't, I don't understand, I don't know how to make it so that people don't hate me," she confessed, sounding exhausted and pitifully resigned, as if she had been fighting an impossible fight for ages, with no rest and no quarter.

Raven cried for a while into her hands while Amoretta hung onto her, petting her head and trying her best to comfort her.

"You know," she said, "You don't have to prove you're worth something. You are, just by being. You don't have to prove that you deserve to live, or that you deserve to be loved. You deserve respect and kindness because you're a person. I know you're afraid that you can't be loved, but I know that you can be," she closed her eyes briefly and shook her head. "Anxiety, fear, you can't banish these things just by recognizing that they're illogical, I know that, but what you should try your best to understand is that you have worth. The wealth of yourself belongs to you, and that's a great treasure," Amoretta said seriously. "You are worth something. You deserve to live. You deserve to be happy. You deserve to be loved. All of those things are true."

At last Raven seemed to have cried herself out, so Amoretta gave her a squeeze.

"Do you know why I love you?" she asked.

Raven's whole body shook side to side, indicating a negative.

Amoretta smiled. "I love you because you like fairy tales and happy endings and princesses and playing pretend. I want to meet your cat and talk to you about the books you like, and if you want, Cotton-tail can send letters to your favorite stuffed animal the same way she writes to Mr. Hoppity. I also love you because you can be so grim and serious, and although your heart is as red as blood, it's also warm and gentle. I understand that you think about things very hard, and want to make sure you always do the very best you can. And let's be fair! You do have very fine manners. I think there's a lot you could teach me on that score. I respect that you have a lot of determination, and that you've already studied so much, with your grandpa and on your own. I think you're just right, Raven Darkstar," she insisted.

"The truth is, as people, we really can't control what other people think of us," Amoretta said with a shrug. "Some people will always dislike you, no matter what you do, no matter how hard you try. Some of them may even hate you," she said with an awkward smile. "Not everybody likes me, for instance, no matter what you may think to the contrary. But if somebody really doesn't like you no matter what you do, that's on them, not on you. Now, that doesn't mean I think you're perfect, or that you don't make mistakes, or that you don't hurt other people. We all do. In fact, I make lots and lots of mistakes and I hurt other people all the time, even though I try my best not to. But I'm glad you're you, Raven. You're interesting and different and you're nice. I don't think you should try to be different than you are, because you're already exactly who you need to be." Amoretta shook her head. "I'm willing to bet that some of the people who don't like you just don't understand you. I mean, you can be a little spooky."

"That is on purpose," Raven said with another sniffle.

Amoretta laughed, crinkling her nose. "I know, I know," she said. "You can still be spooky. That's what we call personal flair. But we can work on the understanding part. As of now, you've officially got one friend: me. If you like fairy tales and happy endings then I've got a feeling that you believe in the power of friendship," Amoretta said, her mouth warming up with her signature crooked smile.

"I," Raven began haltingly, then she took a deep breath and steeled her nerve before finishing with warmth and relief, "I do."

"Good," Amoretta said definitively. "That's a magic that I know how to work."


Meanwhile, in the great room of Revane Cottage, Ellen Middleton paced back and forth, muttering to herself.

She was angry at Raven and mortified by Professor Grabiner's reproach. Her peaceful sanctuary had been turned into an unholy battleground. She could not accept it. It was all awful and she hated everything, particularly herself.

She was so focused on contemplating Raven's misdeeds and her own vileness that she didn't notice when someone quietly came into the room. There was the soft sound of a throat being cleared and she whirled around to look over her shoulder and then froze, like a prowler caught in the spread of a high beam flashlight. There was William Danson standing in the door to the hallway, watching her thoughtfully.

He was the last person she wanted to see with her face all red and blotchy from yelling and crying, the last person she wanted to see when she felt like milk stored in her vicinity would sour instantly, just from being close to her ugliness. She looked worse than she did ordinarily, which was quite an accomplishment, she thought. Trust William Danson to appear at the very moment a bucket of pig's blood had come crashing down on her head.

"What do you want?" she asked, and it came out sharper than she intended. She flushed, embarrassed that she had been rude to him, but then angry again because she was in no mood to be embarrassed. He had disturbed her, after all. She began to be resentful. Why did she always have to treat him with kid gloves? She wouldn't anymore. If he didn't like it, then he would have to get over it.

William raised an eyebrow and said, "I'm here because I'm worried about you."

"Well, I'm fine," she insisted forcefully. "Thank you for your concern." She delivered this last line not with pleasure or gratitude, but as if it were a threat.

"Ellen, what's wrong?" William asked quietly.

She shook her head. "Nothing," she insisted. "Aren't you supposed to be mopping or something?"

"I finished the hall," he said wryly. "Right now I'm waiting for further orders. But seriously Ellen, it's obvious that you're upset." He looked off blankly, into the distance of the empty fireplace. "I'd never heard you speak to someone that way before."

"So you were eavesdropping on my conversation with Raven?" Ellen demanded and William winced.

"It was hard not to hear what you were talking about," he admitted apologetically. "You were both yelling, and I was just around the corner, scrubbing the floor."

"If we were yelling, then it's because there was something worth yelling about," she insisted grimly and he gave her a pained smile.

"About Raven," William said hesitantly, "Don't you think you might be projecting a little?"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Ellen demanded, crossing her arms hard over her chest.

"I'm talking about the things that happened this year with your parents," he said patiently. "I know deciding on emancipation wasn't an easy choice - "

"That has absolutely nothing to do with this situation," Ellen said angrily, "Or are you suggesting that I behaved like Ashley Peabody?" she asked, and the chip was clearly visible on her shoulder.

William rolled his eyes. "Of course I'm not suggesting that, but you ought to know that it's very rude of you to call Raven 'Ashley,'" he said. "You may not have thought about it this way, but even if she hadn't managed the blood rites to permanently change her name, and she has, she still obviously wants to be called 'Raven,' and doesn't like being called 'Ashley.' It's really no wonder that she got upset at you."

"So you're saying all of this is my fault?" Ellen said sharply. "Probably because I'm just an ignorant wildseed who doesn't understand Witch World traditions."

"No, I'm not saying that," William said steadily. "It doesn't really have anything to do with the Witch World. It's just common courtesy. You wouldn't like it if someone repeatedly called you a name that you didn't like."

"You mean like 'Ellen Middleton, the Ordinary and Mediocre?'" Ellen snapped. "She was being too sensitive. After all, Ashley is her name - "

"No, it's not," William reminded, shaking his head. "She successfully changed it. When you call her 'Ashley' you're purposefully denying her identity as well as deliberately drawing attention to the fact that you choose to deny it. You're picking a fight every time you do it. And no, it wasn't nice of her to call you what she called you. But anyway, that's not the point - "

"I know it's not the point!" Ellen said with a savage frown, "I was trying to show her how disrespectful and rude she was being to her mother!"

"By being disrespectful and rude?" William asked bluntly.

"She was disrespectful and rude first!" Ellen said, stamping her foot. "She was so high and mighty when I came to talk to her, like she was already the queen of this house - "

"I actually overheard that part from the hall too," William volunteered sheepishly. "I don't think she sounded particularly rude. Even if I'm wrong and she did, it might have been just nerves. I'm not trying to make excuses for her, but it's worth thinking about. I think Raven had a pretty hard day today. She was pretty shaken up after confronting her mother."

"Well, I overheard that entire conversation, and she was horrible to her mother. She was so glib and dismissive, it was really shocking," Ellen said with authority. "What kind of person does that? I would never have said things like that to my mother - "

"You aren't Raven," William pointed out with another wry smile. "And your mother isn't Hyacinth Peabody. I wasn't there, so I can't comment on her behavior, but I'm just trying to point out that Raven is making her own way herself, and your own situation doesn't have much to do with it. She certainly didn't do what she did today, whatever it was, with the express purpose of making either you or her mother angry. I know you had a hard time with your own mother, but that doesn't have anything - "

"How dare you!" Ellen said lowly, and her voice had gone very cold. "How DARE you mention my mother? How dare you bring my life into this?"

"Ellen, calm down," William said, raising his hands and stepping back a pace. "I understand where you're coming from - "

"You don't understand anything about me!" Ellen said, balling her hands into fists. "You never have! You always act like you know everything, but you don't know anything at all. And I know you don't really care anything about me, even though you pretend you do, because it's appropriate to pretend to care about someone who's so disgusting and pathetic. Well, don't use me to pat yourself on the back!" she shouted, shutting her eyes and gritting her teeth. "I bet you think I'm Ellen the Ordinary too. Miss Middleton the Marvelously Mediocre. Well, I'm sorry I'm not a spoiled, selfish egomaniac. I guess when you look like Miss November then you can always count on an enthusiastic defense from everybody on the planet, no matter how you behave."

William was silent for several seconds, his lips thin and pressed together. At last he sighed and tried to gather this thoughts.

"Ellen," he said reproachfully, "That's not why I'm trying to get you to think about this and you know it. I don't think of you as medicore. I think you're remarkable. You're dependable and hardworking, yes, but - "

"Dependable, hardworking, ugly, and average, with a great personality," Ellen cut in sarcastically, through her angry tears. "Thanks so very much. Those are all my favorite compliments."

"Ellen!" William said, taking a step toward her.

"Stay away from me!" she cried, throwing her arm out as if to protect herself. "I don't want you anywhere near me. I hate you! I hate you, William! You're the worst person I've ever met!"

With this violent declaration of eternal enmity, Ellen turned on her heel and dashed out of the house sobbing, slamming the front door as she went.

William let his arms drop to his sides helplessly and stared at the door for a solid minute, frowning. The door was mute, as doors often are. It had no advice to offer.

William's thoughts were interrupted by polite applause from the doorway at his back. He turned to find Grabiner lounging against the frame.

"Well, rat, I have to say, you handled that spectacularly," he said. "Congratulations on making a girl cry."

"You were listening, sir?" William asked tiredly.

"Yes," Grabiner answered dryly. "Considering that spells were thrown the last time an argument unfolded in my sitting room, I thought it best to be on hand to minimize property damage."

"It wasn't my intention to make her cry," William said, frowning.

"Well, you did a bang up job of it, at any rate," Grabiner said with a snort. "I am beginning to ken that you honestly have no idea how to deal with people. You can't talk reasonably to a person who's in a state like that, particularly when they're wallowing around in loathing and self-pity. You've got to give them a hard shock," he tapped one of his toes lightly against the ground for emphasis, "Even my Pollyanna of a wife employs that tactic from time to time." He paused as he thought about things, "She was right about you," he said with conviction. "You are a wreck."

"Yes, sir," William said mechanically. "Thank you, sir."

"Stop feeling sorry for yourself," Grabiner said sharply. "If you have time to moon aimlessly, then you have time to work. You aren't here because I felt lonely and requested the services of a professional companion."

William looked up at him blankly, then blinked once or twice and nodded.

"But I finished the hallway, sir," he pointed out.

"Then the alchemy cauldrons need scouring," Grabiner said, snapping his fingers.

William nodded again, then hesitantly looked back at the door through which Ellen Middleton had so recently made such a grand exit.

"Leave her alone," Grabiner advised levelly. "You couldn't comfort her now if you tried. Let it lie, for the moment. I imagine that what the girl needs presently are the services of a professional busybody," he said dryly. "Fortunately for her, there is one at large on the property at this moment."

"Yes, sir," William said with sincerity. "Thank you, sir. For the advice, I mean."

"Well," Grabiner said with a dismissive wave, as he turned to leave, "You're welcome."


Amoretta was thinking her conversation with Raven over very carefully as she headed back toward the house. She was loitering around one of the ever-blooming flower beds and pushing her thoughts around when she heard the front door slam and turned her head to find Ellen Middleton, face wet with tears, bearing down hard on her. Both the girls saw one another an instant too late to avert disaster. Amoretta knew that Ellen was going to crash into her, and then they were both going to hit the stone of the court behind them hard. Ellen windmilled her arms as she staggered forward, trying desperately to stop, but it was too late, and she knew it.

She hit Amoretta, and then the world went black.

It quite literally went black in a very disorienting fashion.

"Who turned out the sun?" Amoretta asked in confusion. "Wait, we're not outside in the garden any more," Amoretta said, groping around in the dark, "It doesn't feel like the outside, anyway. It doesn't sound like the outside either. I think I accidentally teleported us somewhere. Ellen, are you here?"

Amoretta was sitting on something warm and squishy, and she tentatively poked at it. She hoped she was somewhere relatively safe, and not inside a hodag's stomach or some place equally unforgiving.

"I'm here," answered Ellen weakly. "Could you please not touch me that way? It's not very - " She seemed to be struggling but at last she swallowed hard and the final word escaped her as a faint, dizzy, agonized whisper, "Appropriate."

"Ahh! I'm sorry!" Amoretta apologized as she realized the warm squishy thing she had been sitting on was Ellen herself. She didn't really want to entertain what part of Ellen she had been poking. It had certainly been impolite, even if it hadn't been unpleasant.

She jumped off Ellen as fast as she could and ended up cracking her skull hard against the ceiling. She fell back and saw dancing lights that were likely more indicative of a mild concussion than a visitation by fairies.

"Uuuurngh," she moaned, covering her head. "I think I knocked all my brains out."

While Amoretta was mournfully massaging the bump on her head, Ellen sensibly called up a witchlight, in hopes they might determine where they were. Painted stars, swirling violet clouds, a crescent moon, and lush, mysterious forests covered every surface of the very small room. It was a bit surreal. As Ellen took a moment to get her bearings, Amoretta left off rubbing her head long enough to recognize where they were.

"Oh," she said in relief, "It's just our bed. It's so dark because the doors are closed, hold on."

She industriously pushed one of the doors open and afternoon light flooded the cabinet bed.

"How did we get here?" Ellen wondered. The unusual circumstances of their arrival had driven her tears away, at least for the moment.

"I think I did it," Amoretta said guiltily, raising a hand in admission. "I sort of panicked when I realized we were both going to take a spill. I didn't want either of us to be hurt, so I guess I put us some place where hitting the ground wouldn't hurt so much. Apparently the only thing I could think of was the bed," she said sheepishly. "I know I'm not supposed to use teleportation magic right now, but it really was an accident. I guess I'll have to tell Hieronymous about it later." She paused for a moment and rubbed at her head again, and then something seemed to occur to her. "Oh right," she said as she began to spin up a rune circle, "I'm a witch. I forget that sometimes," she confided to Ellen as she worked a simple green spell to ease her self-inflicted injury.

"I didn't hear you casting a spell, before," Ellen said dubiously. "You couldn't have had time to say all three verses of teleport before I hit you anyway."

"I don't think you need all three verses," Amoretta noted absently as she relaxed into her own spell. "At least, not the way we learn them. You're right. I think it must have been something like a wild cast. I was panicked, you know. It's not like I thought it through carefully before I did it."

"When I'm panicked I usually shriek incoherently. I don't spontaneously cast complicated and dangerous magic spells," Ellen pointed out flatly.

"I'm sorry," Amoretta apologized sincerely. "I honestly didn't do it on purpose. I'm glad neither of us were hurt."

"Me too," said Ellen, then all at once the circumstances of their meeting came back to her and she looked away in shame and distress.

"Do you want to talk about why you were crying?" Amoretta asked.

"No," Ellen said sullenly. She did want to tell, because Amoretta was nothing if not a comfort to a heart in distress, but now that she'd been prompted, she felt the perverse desire to keep all her thoughts and feelings to herself, like a miser in a counting house.

"Well," Amoretta said slowly, "All right. But if you change your mind, you know I'm always willing to listen."

"It's Raven," Ellen blurted out mutinously, unable to contain her anger and frustration any longer. "And William. And everything."

"All right," Amoretta said, getting up and moving to sit on a nearby dressing stool, so she could see Ellen's face when Ellen chose to look at her. "Let's start with Raven. What happened? Did you two have some kind of a fight?" Amoretta had heard a little about it from Raven's perspective already, but that didn't tell her much about what Ellen thought about things.

"I was trying to talk to her about her mother," Ellen said. "I met her at the school today: Mrs. Peabody. But Raven was horrible. She was horrible." Ellen looked guiltily at the ground. "I guess we argued, and then she got so mad that she pulled a wand on me." She paused. "I might have thrown a spell at her. But she drew first!" Ellen insisted. "And then Professor Grabiner came into the room and yelled at both of us, and Raven ran off. Then William came in and he was so condescending that I wanted to punch him."

Her lower lip was full and puckered as she pushed it forward. She was feeling aggressively sorry for herself. What she wanted most was to spear one of her enemies and roast them slowly over a fire.

Or eat a lot of chocolate.

Either would suffice. Both would be the best case scenario.

"Did you punch him?" Amoretta wondered, her eyes widening. "That would have been - well, I'd have written about it my diary!" she exclaimed. "And I don't even have a diary! Not that I'm advocating violence, or anything," she rushed to clarify.

"No," Ellen said, her brows scrunching together. "I probably ought to have. Then he might have thought twice about telling me how wonderfully ordinary I am."

Amoretta burst out laughing unexpectedly. Ellen turned to her with a frown and Amoretta offered her hands up in surrender.

"I'm sorry that I'm not really sorry, but the truth is, I'm not really sorry," she admitted. "I laughed because that's so dumb that I was just really surprised. You're anything but ordinary, Ellen," she pointed out. "You're a witch, for one thing, and you're really smart, and interesting, and thoughtful, and pretty, and athletic, and you've got a great singing voice. You're basically good at everything: the total package."

"Ha ha ha," Ellen's faked laugh was slow, drawn out, and very stilted. She sounded very tired.

"I take that back," Amoretta said wryly, "You're good at everything except liking yourself."

"That's not funny, Amoretta," she said, balling her hands into fists and rubbing them hard against her lap. She felt like a terrible pressure had built up inside her. It was so tight that she felt like she was going to burst. Everything was going to vomit out, all ugly and nasty, and she'd be left with nothing but her sad, empty skin: wrinkled and slick, like old fruit peelings that would squelch between her nothing-toes.

"Of course it's not," Amoretta agreed evenly. "But that doesn't mean it's not true."

Ellen sighed and then admitted glumly, "Professor Grabiner told me the same thing."

"Today?" Amoretta asked, honestly surprised.

"No," Ellen said, shaking her head slowly, "A little while ago." She rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands and grunted. "Just because I've heard it more than once, doesn't make it any easier to listen to."

"I guess it's hard to accept: the idea that there might actually be a lot of really good things about you, that you have lots of things to be proud of." Amoretta tilted her head to the side thoughtfully. "You don't want it to be true, so you're really good at making up reasons why it can't be true. That's one problem with having really good analytical abilities." She shook her head. "But you know, your reasoning is flawed. You're starting with the result you want and working backward, reclassifying everything you come across to suit what you've already decided. That's confirmation bias. You're not working from fact. You're working from belief, and just sort of trusting that that belief is true and letting it guide what you think. It's like you joined a crazy cult, only the cult is all about thinking that you suck," Amoretta said, patting her back affectionately.

"That's so comforting," Ellen said, sounding anything but comforted.

"It's the truth," Amoretta said with a shrug. "My unbiased and professional opinion is that you're great. Learning to like yourself is a long, hard, complicated process, but it's something that every thoughtful, sensitive person fights with, I think. Some people have harder fights than others. You have a hard fight, but that doesn't mean that you won't win. You have to keep fighting. I believe in you, and I'll tell you how special you are no matter how many times you ask me, no matter how many times you need to hear it. I think eventually that you'll leave that weird cult you joined and come to your own new way of thinking. Maybe making believe you like yourself is the first step in making it true, like clapping for fairies, or wishing the velveteen rabbit real."

Ellen closed her eyes and slumped against the side of the cabinet bed.

"She takes everything for granted," she mumbled.

"Who takes everything for granted?" Amoretta asked softly, although she had a pretty good idea who Ellen might be talking about. Still, she didn't want to take anything for granted herself.

"Raven," Ellen said with a frown, opening her eyes to look at Amoretta again. "She's witchborn, really and truly witchborn, not wildseed, and she has a wonderful mother and sisters that love her, and do you know what she's really concerned with? Being ordinary. She said she'd rather die than be ordinary. She's spoiled and self-centered and melodramatic."

"Are you sure?" Amoretta asked, thoughtfully tapping her lip with her finger.

"What do you mean?" Ellen asked suspiciously.

"I'm asking you what you're basing your character analysis on," Amoretta said with a smile.

"Well, it's obvious!" Ellen retorted crossly.

"It's not obvious to me," Amoretta pointed out. "That's why I'm asking."

"Well, she's spoiled and self-centered. She doesn't care at all about the pain she's causing her mother," Ellen said.

"I think Raven loves her mother very much," Amoretta disagreed, shaking her head. "I think she loves her sisters. I'm sure they love her too, but none of them understand each other very well. That happens, sometimes. People can care for one another lots, but because they don't know how to care for one another properly they can cause a lot of trouble. Loving someone is different than knowing what to do with that love. Honestly, people can love each other pretty badly. That doesn't mean it's not love, even if it comes out in an ugly, hurtful way. People have very powerful, complicated emotions, and good intentions can still lead to bad outcomes."

"And she's obviously melodramatic," Ellen continued, pointedly disregarding Amoretta's interjection. "What kind of fear is 'being ordinary' anyway? It's ridiculous."

"Maybe it's the fear of being forced to conform to societal expectations that you neither like nor understand, with no freedom to express the individuality of your self," Amoretta suggested. "Without regard for the damage it does to your person and without any positive outcomes other than keeping up appearances."

"Well, that was a pat answer," Ellen said, turning her back on her friend to stare at the paintings on the inside of the cabinet bed.

"I've been thinking about it all day," Amoretta said sheepishly, "Ever since Raven mentioned it to me. It's not something I had ever considered before, so I tried to reason it out and that's what I came up with."

"Of course you've never worried about being ordinary," Ellen said, and she seemed tired again.

"Well, no," Amoretta admitted. "I guess, if anything, I was worried about the opposite - about being so totally weird that I'd never be understood."

"I'm the queen of ordinary," Ellen spat out with a frown.

"No, you're not," Amoretta disagreed patiently.

"I think you're disqualified from deciding whether someone is ordinary or not," Ellen said, planting her hands on her hips. "I bet you can't name one person who we know that you think is ordinary," she challenged.

"I can't?" Amoretta admitted with a helpless shrug, "But then, we're witches who go to a secret magic school. I think 'ordinary' is just a thing that's made up, like a unicorn, only unicorns aren't made up because I've met one now," she finished in confusion.

"Well, I certainly don't feel remarkable," Ellen grumped.

"Of course you don't," Amoretta pointed out. "Because you're your own baseline."

"I feel horrible," Ellen added with a challenge.

"Well, you're not," Amoretta said with another shrug. "It's okay to feel rotten every once in awhile," she said. "I think that's totally normal. It's okay to get upset. If you want to be upset right now, then you can be upset. That's allowed." She smiled. "But when you're all tired out from being angry and cross, it's okay to let those feelings go. You don't need to try to hold onto them. You can just wash them out of yourself, like they're a wild color of temporary hair dye."

"I've never dyed my hair before," Ellen said flatly.

"We should dye it bright purple," Amoretta suggested, filled with sudden inspiration. "I bet that would look completely awesome."

Ellen sensed that Amoretta was already making plans, so she bit her lip and said hesitantly, "I'll think about it."

"Good," Amoretta said with a decisive nod.

Then they both fell silent for a while as they wandered deep in their own thoughts.

"We tend to think of parents as the advocates of their children," Amoretta said after some time, tapping on her lip with a fingertip. "But that's not the whole picture, really. A parent can be the greatest protector that a child has, but a parent can also be a child's absolute worst enemy."

Ellen's brow scrunched up and she said, "What are you talking about?"

"It's part of our silly human brains. As children, we're hardwired to trust the adults in our lives. It's a basic survival mechanism," Amoretta explained. "And as a survival mechanism, it certainly works. An adult says 'junior, don't go play by the river, or crocodiles will eat you.' So junior doesn't get eaten by crocodiles. It's a success! Only now, we don't really have to worry so much about being eaten by crocodile as children. Because we have a highly developed society, we're safe from crocodiles, but there are other dangers to contend with."

"What do you mean?" Ellen asked, frowning.

"Well," Amoretta said thoughtfully, "Like this. I think children are fully prepared to destroy themselves, if they think it will get them parental love and approval, or if they think they need to do it to provide care and love for a parent. They will destroy themselves in order to remain inside the family unit, no matter how terrible the abuse or neglect, no matter how awful the circumstances. The percentage of children who will actually leave terrible situations behind if it means also leaving their parents is vanishingly small. Do you see what I'm saying? The very thing that helped us survive when the threat was crocodiles will make a child stay, of their own choice, with a parent who may bring about their death in the worst case, and who in the best scenario is guaranteed to leave them with permanent scars. Nobody can wreck a kid quite like their parent."

"That's a really cynical way of looking at things," Ellen said, her frown deepening. "I'm surprised at you, Amoretta."

"I'm not being cynical," Amoretta answered, tapping her lip with her finger. "I'm trying to be rational. Parental caregivers have an outsized influence on the people that they care for, no matter their age. Think about it. The only other person who can exert that kind of influence is maybe a lover."

"I guess," Ellen said slowly, uncertain.

"Kids are resilient," Amoretta added, shrugging. "Human beings in general are resilient, but being hurt over and over again takes its toll, even on the most resilient people. I guess I'd say that I'm generally wary of moms and dads because everyone just takes for granted that they know what's best for their kids, that they want what's best for their kids, that they're capable of caring for their kids, and there's absolutely no guarantee that that's true."

"Loving their children is just something that mothers do!" Ellen blurted out, finding comfort in the words that Cindy Peabody had left her with.

"But Ellen," Amoretta interjected gently, laying her hand on the other girl's arm, "Loving their children isn't something that all mothers do. It would be nice if that were true, but it's certainly not. Not all parents are good parents. Some parents are neglectful, and others are abusive." She shook her head with a weak smile. "Some parents are both at the same time. I know you understand that. The fact that circumstance makes someone the caregiver of a child doesn't make them suited for it, or good at it."

"But Raven's mother is so nice - " Ellen interrupted, clenching and unclenching her fists in agitation. "You didn't talk to her, so you don't know - "

"We're not talking about Raven's mother," Amoretta reminded her diplomatically. "We're talking about a hypothetical situation. We're talking about the possibility that a parent may not want or be able to provide what's best for their child."

Ellen grumbled, and Amoretta could see that she had set her jaw and had stubbornly decided to stay on her ship until she went down with it. She thought she was protecting something, that was the feeling that Amoretta got. Maybe the something she was protecting was herself.

"Besides, you are right that I didn't get a chance to talk to Raven's mother," Amoretta agreed, "But you only talked to her for a few minutes."

"So you don't think I had time to see what a terrible person she is?" Ellen demanded. She shook her head. "But you told me that Raven has been running away from home for years now, and that basically every witch in New England knows about it, which is why she had to come here. So you think all those people, every single person who packed Raven up and sent her back home, were blind too? They sent her back for abuse or neglect, or whatever else you're imagining Mrs. Peabody did to her?"

"Most people have a tendency to side with adults rather than children in such situations," Amoretta pointed out steadily. "Particularly when it involves teenagers. It's not really very surprising that people called her mother up and sent her home, because that's keeping the status quo. When abuse is happening, it's often very difficult for people outside the situation to recognize, unless they've been trained to do this and they have some emotional distance. People don't want to accept that someone they know, who seems so regular and ordinary and normal, is capable of something terrible. People only want to see abuse when they recognize the abuser as 'other,' as 'outsider.' Then it just reinforces the opinion that they already hold."

"So you're saying that you do think she's a monster!" Ellen cried in angry triumph. She clearly felt vindicated.

Amoretta sighed, and shrugged. "I'm saying that I don't have enough information to get a clear read on the situation. Raven came here because she needed a safe place. It doesn't really matter why she needed a safe place. We aren't going to turn her away. She's right. She is old enough to make her own decisions for the future. If I'm old enough to get married and make a binding blood oath, then she ought to be able to study what she wants." Amoretta frowned. "I think her situation is complicated. On the one hand, she really is unhappy at home, and not just because her mom wants her to go to summer camp. I get the feeling that camp is just sort of the last nail. I think it's a lot of things. I think there are forces pulling on Raven from all different directions. She's trying to discover who she wants to be. Maybe she just needs distance from her family right now. That doesn't mean the distance has to be permanent, although it might turn out to be. Those are all choices that aren't easy to make. She's doing her best, I think."

"But she's so young and stupid!" complained Ellen, and her distress was obvious on a brow that was as wrinkled and drawn as a raisin. "Every decision she's going to make is going to be a mistake! She's going to ruin her life!"

Amoretta laughed mildly and kicked her feet. "I think lives aren't quite as breakable as people make them out to be. That phrase is thrown around a lot: 'ruin your life,' but as far as I can tell, it mostly has to do with a person's own perceptions of success, with their own values. I mean, it wasn't too long ago that you told me that I'd ruined my life, and I'm pretty happy with it, all things considered." She shrugged philosophically and continued. "I'm sure Raven will make mistakes. She'll probably make plenty of mistakes, because we all do. Mistakes are always an opportunity to learn something about yourself or the world. And she ought to be free to make her own mistakes, however she wants to make them."

Ellen's distress had only heightened when Amoretta had casually reminded her of that other conversation they'd had in the spring, the one where they'd both been reduced to angry, frustrated tears. Then it had been as if they'd both been yelling and screaming at one another at the top of their lungs, each locked in her own soundproof box, with an impenetrable glass wall between them. There had been a lot of talking, but very little listening.

"She ought to listen to her mother!" Ellen yelled angrily, mashing her eyelids together fiercely, even as she felt the sting of tears. She was desperate because she knew she was fighting only from emotion at this point, and that Amoretta was slowly and calming closing a net around her. She could not escape. Her fear and anger were hard in her throat like a stone she could not swallow.

"Why?" Amoretta asked curiously.

"Because children ought to listen to their mothers!" Ellen shouted back.

"Why?" Amoretta asked again patiently.

"Because mothers know best!" she said, panting.

"But they don't, always," Amoretta pointed out. "Even in the best of circumstances, when someone loves you very much, they shouldn't be able to take the power of choice away from you, just because they have some sort of perceived authority." She raised a finger and quoted, "'When one sinks or swims with the sharks, then one ought to do so at one's own discretion.' P.P. told me that. It's good advice, I think. We all have to take responsibility for our own actions."

"She's too young," Ellen reiterated again, blinking back her furious tears. "She's too immature."

"There's never a good time to make a hard decision," Amoretta said, tilting her head. "Those decisions are always hard, and people are always in the process of growing up. If we waited until we were really ready to make a hard choice, we'd be in the grave before we did anything. People just do. That's how we continue living. Nothing is simple. Everything is complicated. Some things that we do that make us happy as individuals, make other people unhappy. Living is conflict. We all have parts of ourselves that we cannot give away, that we should never give away, even if that means hardship, or sadness, or loss, or hurting other people. We all do the best we can. That has to be good enough, because there is nothing else."

"Why do you always know everything?" Ellen asked, burying her face in her hands. She shuddered once or twice as spasms of impotence and frustration shook her body. She felt pathetic and utterly defeated. She felt as if she had died.

"Because I operate under the assumption that I don't know anything," Amoretta suggested with an easy smile, then shook her head. "It's all right that you're frustrated and angry, Ellen," she said peacefully, moving to sit next to her trembling friend. "You're angry because you care so much. You're worried about Raven because you care about her. You're worried about Raven's mom because you care. You can tell Raven what you think all day long, and you ought to, even if it's hard. Talking to one another is how we understand things, even when it's ugly, even when we have to fight. But one thing you've got to accept, Ellen, is that Raven has to make her own decisions."

"I hate it," Ellen declared angrily, still crying, and the it that she hated was large and ambiguous. She hated her inability to control her own emotions. She hated Amoretta's sincerity and her calm acceptance. She hated Raven's thoughtlessness. She hated having to share her safe place. She hated having lost her own mother, and she hated having relived that terrible experience through Raven. She hated William acting like he knew everything about her, and she hated Amoretta and Grabiner for actually knowing all about her. She hated herself: her ugly, common, ordinary self. She hated being with people. She hated being alone. She hated everything.

"I know," Amoretta said evenly, then put her arms around Ellen and laid her head against her back. "But it will pass."