I was always told my mother died the day I was born. ’ ‘Ah, then indeed I thank you,’ said Melusine on a sigh of relief, moved for once to smile at the captain. Her mother brewed potions to scent her hair, sweet balms of anise for her lips and hands, told her wonderful secrets, some decidedly un-Christian. But one was clearly the goddess among them, her face hidden, her body seeming to call out to me to possess it at once. “How are those books any different from the witchcraft books?” “I dunno. But it is my fault. She had maintained a B in each subject except History, which she occasionally felt compelled to strive for A’s in, considering she had lived through most of it. She was obliged, as she explained continually to every one who cared to listen, to be so very particular.
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