After an hour and twenty-two minutes, and based on the direction we traveled, we landed in a valley at the English and Scottish borders. No town or airstrip with a hangar, just a helipad in a field and a waiting black limousine. Most people know the location of their grandparents’ house, unless your grandfather was the Arkane’s Magus, like mine.
Marlowe’s sour mood at Noah’s appearance set the tone for the trip, although I didn’t mind. I silently congratulated her for anything she could do that affected Mother. Of course, we had both known Noah would eventually return to the picture, but that Marlowe hadn’t forgiven him put limits on his family interaction. I wish she could’ve put the same limits on Mother.
Ten minutes into the car ride, we stopped at a secured iron gate naming the estate. Boleskine House. It had been decades since I was here. Noah entered a code that even I didn’t know, and the heavy ironwork rolled aside. It revealed nothing of our precise location other than the expectation we were close. The cameras were visible. Knowing the Arkane, additional security was better camouflaged. The winding road was well tended, with no holes in the pavement, and nothing beyond the road to pronounce ownership of the land.
Until the manor came into view. Marlowe’s breath hitched, and she sat upright. Mother watched her with interest.
My memory of this house was strong, even if I wasn’t sure of the location. On my last visit, I turned twelve before leaving for boarding school. I thought of the photo I had from that trip and wondered how different Grandmother would look now. Grandmother was my only happy memory of this estate.
The house was built of red brick accented with white columns. By any standard, the manor was grand. Tall, slender windows sat on both sides of the wooden double doors, waiting at the top of three steps. Ivy crept around the front façade as it does on every English home, trimmed and modest. The hedges around the drive were high, blocking a general view from the road, but the house was set higher on a rise, so it wasn’t completely hidden. A circular drive entwined the estate, and fountains bordered by winter blooms were stationed like chess pieces across the lawn.
We pulled under the portico at the entry just before sunset. Noah assisted Mother out on the driver’s side, and Marlowe and I exited in the opposite direction. With her back turned to the family, she grabbed my hand. “I’ve been here in my dreams,” she said breathlessly. “Virginia’s dream,” she corrected, keeping the words between us.
I squeezed her hand. “Do you have the Magi’s amulet?” In a house with the Arkane’s Magus, Marlowe would need all the protection she could get.
She nodded, placing her hand over her breast to confirm its placement inside her bra. We followed Mother and Father inside, leaving Noah to carry the bags and then park the car in the garage. Finally, a job he was qualified for.
The entry was a large, airy parlor with settees, a cozy fireplace, marble floors, brocade drapery, and handwoven rugs. A half-dozen servants waited to assist us, greeting my parents with recognition, and asking about their needs. I thought our arrival might have gone unannounced by Grandfather until I felt his energy fill the room as the Magus approached from behind. Aleister Crowley always had a powerful presence about him, and that had not diminished with his age. His posture was straight, his eyes were clear, and they were focused solely on Marlowe. She turned, feeling his approach as well.
For a moment, Grandfather was stunned by her attention. His step hesitated; overcome with an emotion I couldn’t identify. But after that, he advanced on Marlowe like a panther. I wanted to growl. I wanted to state my possession. But that wasn’t possible.
Not with the Arkane’s Magus. The man who wrote magick his entire life. My grandfather.
Marlowe squeezed my hand, and I sensed her light tighten around her. Grandfather saw it too, and after his initial surprise, he released a reverent breath.
“Welcome, my dear.”
She held out her hand, letting him kiss her knuckles, and then he stepped closer to kiss each cheek. Marlowe maintained her composure.
“Hello, Magus.” Her eyes lowered in a natural respect that anyone would feel in his commanding presence.
Grandfather never released her hand, never released her gaze. Acknowledged none of us. He wrapped her hand around his arm and turned towards a hall, and we followed as an afterthought. I couldn’t hear their conversation. He kept his voice low, engaging her every step of the way until we found ourselves in a private study with another warm fireplace.
“Just a drink for now, I think. To celebrate your arrival. I know you’ll want to refresh yourselves and change before dinner.” He motioned to a servant at the bar who poured cognac for everyone. Grandfather passed the snifters out to each of us. Marlowe first, of course, although he couldn’t have known cognac was her favorite drink to ward off a winter chill.
Gesturing my fiancé to a spot on the sofa, he waved me to one side as he occupied the other. I felt Mother’s irritation to be excluded so blatantly, except truthfully, no one had Grandfather’s interest but Marlowe. He passed her anything her eyes looked at, and I wondered if that’s how my attention to Marlowe appeared to outsiders.
The only conversation was whatever Grandfather said to Marlowe, and she didn’t stray from his gaze as he asked about her travels from America. I wondered if he had slipped her into a glamour, but just as I had that thought, her foot stretched to rub my leg. I relaxed as a sly grin pushed her lips upward while she listened to Grandfather, and I relaxed.
“Well, as much as I’d like to get to know you better, my dear, I feel you need to unwind after your trip. I’ll let you all settle into your rooms, and we’ll talk more at dinner tonight. The Arkane have sent you all kinds of gifts.”
“There’s a gift exchange?” Marlowe’s dismay was genuine. “I am woefully unprepared. I didn’t know I would spend Christmas with you, Magus. Will there be others?”
Mother stood, brushing unseen wrinkles from her expensive suit as we all rose to our feet. “Other people? No, of course not. That would be tedious.”
“Don’t you worry, dear.” He patted Marlowe’s hand as he wrapped it again around his arm. “Your presence here is all I need. I’ve waited decades for your arrival.”
“Thank you, Magus.” Marlowe purred, not showing the nervousness I knew she felt.
Servants waited to escort each of us to our rooms, and my dismay at the realization Marlowe and I were not rooming together, or apparently, even close, was clear.
“Don’t worry, my boy.” Grandfather patted my shoulder. “She’ll have the best suite in the house. You can see her later. Thank you for bringing Marlowe. Thank you for finding her, I should say.” He beamed at me. “You’ve done a remarkable thing. Finding Lady Babalon,” he sighed in contentment. “But I expected no less from my Adeptus Exemptus.” Grandfather addressed me by my rank in the Arkane as he kissed both my cheeks before strolling off with Marlowe on his arm.
One of the staff stood patiently to escort me to my room, and with a sigh, I followed a path opposite Marlowe’s direction, surprised at how pleased I felt for Grandfather’s praise.
***
I had gone to Marlowe’s room before dinner to offer some pointers about this evening’s entertainment. That’s what it would be to Mother. Entertainment. But Marlowe was not in her suite. I found her in the dining room, and she looked relieved when I entered.
“Hello, sweetheart. How are your accommodations?” I leaned over Marlowe’s chair to kiss her neck. We might be pretending to be a couple, but it didn’t mean I wouldn’t enjoy our intimacy.
“Larger than I need. I might be lonely later.” She teased, standing to greet me with Oscar-worthy attention like a couple in love.
Dinner at my grandfather’s house was always a formal affair. Fortunately, the gowns I bought for Marlowe had been shipped to the estate after the unexpected change of plans. Grandfather's ceremony of Crossing the Abyss was supposed to have taken place at the Crowley Manor in England. I could only hope the Arcana was ready to deal with the change.
“You look quite handsome.” She fingered my collar and pulled me close for a deep kiss. Just because we were pretending to be a couple didn’t make it easier, and when she released me, I needed to adjust myself.
“Want some help?” She reached out to assist, but not actually touching the tower in my pants.
“You’re a tease,” I growled. “And you’re having too much fun tormenting me.”
Her face softened, and her hand rested on my cheek, pulling me close enough to whisper. “I’m sorry, Nic. I’ll stop if you want. If you need.”
I pulled her to me roughly, acting as the Arkane’s Devil. “Never!” And with that, I ground my hard erection right into her belly. It was as close to scratching that itch as I was going to get, and it felt good.
Marlowe took her place at the table on one side of Grandfather, who motioned me into the empty chair on his other side, next to Mother. Everyone continued without commenting on our playful act.
“Your grandfather wants me to start in the morning learning the ceremony for New Year.” Marlowe’s voice had a slight tremor. Our original plans never included completing the ritual.
“I understand.” I nodded to Grandfather with a confidence I didn’t feel. “It’s the most important ceremony imaginable.” I patted his arm with assurance. He looked up, searching my eyes and finding only support. There was some relief in that for him. I placed my napkin on my lap before picking up a fork, stalling to find the right words. “Marlowe will be superb.”
Grandfather’s ultimate dream had come true, and she sat right in front of him. The Lady Babalon would conduct his ‘Crossing the Abyss’. Grandfather had scripted his own death, his Final Act. The greatest magick he had ever written.
“You’ve done well, my son.” Grandfather reached for Marlowe’s hand and fingered the 22-petal lotus on her bracelet. We both held our breath, wondering if the Magus would sense the magick we’d imbued into the gold medallion. “I see you’ve covered the basics.” Whether or not he sensed the magick, he smiled at her.
“It’s only been a short while, Magus. There’s so much to learn.” Marlowe’s Texan accent charmed him, and she withdrew her hand from his scrutiny. “Nic is an excellent teacher.”
The staff began serving the meal, and our little family gathering was still missing one person. “Isn’t Grandmother going to join us?”
Mother snickered, but I didn’t pay her any attention. It was Father who offered the explanation.
“She retires early,” he said. “Why don’t we plan to visit her after breakfast in the morning?”
His invitation was meant to mollify me, but I also think he loved his mother and wouldn’t express those feelings around his wife. There was no love lost between the two women.
“Let’s do that,” I agreed.
Grandfather nodded without looking away from Marlowe. “I know she’d like to see you boys. And it will give Marlowe and me some time to become better acquainted.”
That wasn’t what I intended, but Marlowe shrugged with her temporary acceptance. Her reason for being here was to rescue Grandmother. As the Arcana’s High Priestess, my grandmother had been communicating with Marlowe in her dreams for six months. Now that they were in the same household, I needed to get them together.
When everyone had their evening cocktails, Mother suggested we move to the post-parlor for the gift exchange. As soon as Marlowe stood, Grandfather was on his feet. The action also brought Father to his feet, and me. Mother tried to ignore everyone at this point. Just that Grandfather hadn’t insisted on escorting Marlowe himself was his way of telling me, as the Devil, he was not competition. He was not. Not because he was over 100 years old, nor because he was the Magus with immense powers. I was the Devil, a possessive sonofabitch around Marlowe, and he knew it.
Post-parlor meant anything that was sent via postal service. And the room was full of packages. As soon as I saw them, I groaned aloud. I hated Christmas for this precise reason.
The fireplace roared, taking England’s constant dampness from the air and leaving a nice cedar scent in the room. A small artificial tree, holding a few gifts, was lit on a desk, and garland hung over the mantle and doorway. It was the only sign of Christmas around the entire estate; I wondered whose benefit it was really for.
“Okay, Mother. What’s the game plan here?”
She clapped her hands in mock excitement, motioning everyone to seats around the room. Making a fanfare of separating Marlowe from Grandfather, she seated us together on the smallest sofa opposite the fireplace, leaving no space for even the Magus’s slight frame.
“Of course, most of these gifts are for Marlowe.” She led the Magus to the closest chair facing our settee. “Or, more precisely, Lady Babalon.” Her expression emphasized the difference. “I’m happy to see how they’ve welcomed you to the family, dear.”
Marlowe was clearly uncomfortable with this tradition. When we sat, I pulled a pair of black gloves from my inside pocket, and a second pair of gloves for Marlowe, which I passed over with a nod.
“Oh, Nicolas. Wearing gloves will spoil all the fun. Marlowe should experience the full extent of the power that lay at her feet.”
I wasn’t surprised that Grandfather hadn’t supported or objected to my ploy. He rarely got involved. But he watched Marlowe with curiosity, as if testing her abilities, much like Mother was doing.
“Marlowe has very little experience with any of this power, and without gloves, she could be lying unconscious at our feet. Let’s do this my way, okay?”
Mother gave a tsk, offering Marlowe a side comment. “Nicolas was burned at a young age, and he’s been overly cautious ever since.”
Marlowe was already leery of these gifts, and of the woman distributing them. But keeping with Marlowe’s Texan enthusiasm, she clapped her gloved hands, acting every bit the daughter-in-law to-be. I couldn’t resist the amusement in my smile watching her command Mother’s attention, aka The Grinch.
“Please, Camille. May I go first?” Marlowe stood, scanning the room for a package I could never have distinguished. Finding it quickly, she gave Mother a sweet smile I knew she faked. “Now, when I chose this, I hadn’t yet met you. I tried so hard to find the right gift. Charles told me what Nic had sent in the past.” She looked my way with a pretend frown. “And I knew you had every piece of jewelry conceivable.” And wore most of it tonight. Marlowe held out the flat, square box to Mother. “But I’ll bet you don’t have one of these.”
Mother took the box warily and examined the wrapping. The thick paper was royal blue and red, and the bow was spun gold, probably weighing several ounces. Mother peeled the wrapping off with more care than I expected. The blue, fabric-covered box with a golden crown emblem on the top piqued her curiosity. Inside, the white tissue was sealed with a sticker matching the external emblem. Mother broke it with a slide of her red manicured nail and pulled back the paper.
With the candelabra exposed, she stared for a long moment before lifting it out to examine it more closely. Mother was checking the gift for magick. Finding none, she let her fingers trace the ring of gems underneath the lip of the candle stems, nodding with satisfaction at the diamonds and rubies embedded around the base.
Grandfather gave a slight nod of approval. I was sure his internal senses had also scanned for any magical signature.
“I hope you like it,” Marlowe gushed in the art form of a Texan. “It’s from the estate of King Frederick of Denmark. One of a kind, like you,” she added. Mother looked at her without speaking, and then she looked at me.
“I told you – she’s not traditional.” I kind of chuckled as Marlowe pushed her way closer to hug Mother. She knew without seeing the look on Mother’s face how she hated the show of supposed emotion. And I knew Marlowe savored her discomfort.
“It’s lovely,” Camille remarked, noting Grandfather’s slight smile as she looked over Marlowe’s shoulder. “Thank you, dear.”
Marlowe reached for a slender package wrapped in white tissue paper on the desk beside me. “Of course, it’s not beautiful unless it’s working. I brought these for you, too. They’re soy-based and won’t drip or smoke.”
She took the gift from Mother and placed three tapers into the slots before setting it on the far side of the mantle. The power from her bracelet condensed around her hand and then, with a quick snap of her fingers, the candles ignited. Surprised and amused with the talent she learned only days ago, Marlowe stood back to admire the lit candelabra.
Although the candelabra was not infused with any magic, I realized the candles were. Marlowe moved the setup to the far side of the mantle, hoping Mother wouldn’t notice. But Grandfather had, and he studied Mother with intensity, surprised she could be fooled by something so simple.
Marlowe winked at me when she turned, quickly diverting any attention from the candles. “Alright, what happens next?”
***
