Page 89 of A Spot of Tea and Sorcery: Vol. 6

So, when his strength was recovered enough—after a gulp or two of the tea dregs remaining in Auntie Arabella’s pink-chintz teapot—Nigel, Luna, the aunties, and Fabian began the long trek back across the landscape to the lone-standing door. Debbie flew overhead, making broad circles, her shadow flickering across the ground.

It was a heartbreaking journey. And yet, not as bad as Nigel feared. For one thing, he’d done this before. After the previous Last Stand he’d had with Jastira, everything had been worse than this. There had been awful chunks of Dire Matter scattered everywhere then, but not now. The land was drained, but not actively poisoned. With proper nurturing, it could be restored.

Also, the last time he’d faced devastation on this scale, he’d faced it alone. But now . . .

Nigel stopped. Luna, still pressed up against his side, afraid to move for fear he’d topple, stopped with him. The aunties and Fabian went on ahead, leaving the two of them together. Nigel looked back over his shoulder, across the barren hills, the grayness, the wind-whipped dust rising in clouds. But the sky was blue overhead, tinged with traces of pink and golden glow, and he knew what Garden was trying to tell him. A new dawn, a new day. A new life.

Shading his eyes, he could just see the Heart Tree, towering in the distance. It was, as Luna had claimed, alive. Alive and full of greenness. He knew now that it would go on living, no matter what else happened. So long as he and his children and his children’s children continued to put their hands in the dirt and feed this land their love and receive Garden’s love in return.

“I’m going to help you, you know,” Luna said.

Nigel looked down at her, found her smiling up at him. “We’ll get them back,” she stated with confidence, despite the sheen of tears in her eyes. “The double-delight. The tiger lilies. My teas. We’ll get them all back.”

He didn’t answer. He didn’t have to—he simply believed her. With absolute conviction, he believed her. And in that conviction he bent his head and kissed her softly, relishing the sensation of her lips on his, the tender stroke of her fingers against his cheek.

Then, as they turned and started walking again, trailing far behind Fabian and the aunties, he said, “How would you like to live in Tealeaf Cottage?”

“What?”

“Only, I was thinking,” he continued in a musing tone, “when this damned severmist is entirely purged from my system, I might just hide Garden inside the aunties’ tea garden. It’s a nice remote location, and their grounds are already well-primed to hold all that Green Magic. And I bet I could construct a portal from the back gate to The Arcane Bouquet. It would be tricky,and it would require a great deal of energy. But as long as I source that energy responsibly, I think I could manage it without causing any harm. I might even be able to source enough from myself, as long as I’m fit for it.”

Luna’s eyes widened hugely. “You think it could be done?”

“Yes. There’s not much by way of an SSSD presence in Crimble, so I don’t think we need worry about the anti-sorcery laws. I managed to establish a portal in the middle of Ballycastle without alerting anyone; I can certainly do it again.”

She faced forward, her brow crinkled with thought, and gnawed at her lower lip. “I don’t like you performing sorcery, Nigel,” she said at last.

“I know.” He stopped walking and turned her to face him, held her shoulders as he gazed deep into her eyes. “But what if . . . what if this were my last spell? Will you consider it? Raising our children in your old home? While still maintaining the shop?”

His heart throbbed, shocked by the offer he made, shocked even more by the sincerity with which he made it. His last spell. A simple portal. There was a time when the very idea would have killed him! That he, the Grimshade Lord, should give up on all his great, immortality-grasping ambition. And for what? For a wife. For a family. For a cottage in the mountains and a humble tea garden. For a shop in a not-particularly nice part of town. For a simple life.

Yet, when he looked into Luna’s eyes, he could think of nothing more worthwhile on which to spend the very last of his magic before giving it up forever. Yes, he would sacrifice it all. And so very much more. For her.

Her face broke in a beaming, lifegiving smile. “You know what?” she said. “Iwillconsider it, Mr. Grimm. I will indeed!” Then she wrapped her arms around his neck, her fingers sliding up into his hair. “Have I told you lately how much I love you?”

“No, I don’t think you have,” he answered, slipping his arms around her waist, highly conscious all over again of how very thin her little nightie was. Thank the gods, that trowel didn’t have any effect on it, didn’t tear the soft fabric. It really was quite a neatly done spell, if he did say so himself.

“Hmmmm.” She tilted her head. “Well, I do, in fact, love you. Rather lots, actually.”

Nigel leaned forward, pressing his forehead against hers, and nuzzled her gently. “And I love you, Mrs. Grimm.”

“More than sorcery?”

“More than anything.”

“Never mind!”

“Well, other than Debbie, of course.”

Luna laughed and pressed a kiss to his mouth, and Nigel felt the green goodness blooming between them. And in that moment he knew thatyes. Yes, it was going to be green and good for Ever After.

Pushing open the door of the cottage kitchen, Nigel took a moment to remove his hat and hang it on the peg before he called out in a loud voice, “Where’s my Sweet Tea?”

The result of this was a sudden cacophony for which he should be prepared by now, but which never failed to take him a little by surprise. There were shrieks of, “Daddy!”followed by a tumble of limbs, a pounding of feet, a crashing of walls and stairs, all punctuated by enthusiastic yips from the young black-and-white dog, who accompanied the other two noisemakers everywhere they went.

Nigel dropped to one knee even as this storm of chaos descended upon him. He soon found himself half-strangled by scrawny arms, jabbed in the kidneys by knobby knees, andthunkedin the shoulders by a pair of muddy paws. This last sent him sprawling to the flagstones in a jumble of limbs and giggles. Again, he never was truly prepared.

Having recovered his breath somewhat, Nigel managed to unhook the clasp of the neck-grabber and draw her back from him to get a clear view of a little girl’s apple-cheeked face. “Ohno,” he said, his brow creasing with concern. “Is that a busted lip I see?”