Wednesday Wee-Bit: Hunter, Suitor, Sensitive, Shy?

The Lestrangs have an unexpected caller. Late April of the year following Preternaturally Familiar.

On Tuesday evening, Lelia felt pressure against the shields around the duplex. Not an attack, but someone brushing against them and stopping. She set the now-dry dish down on the combination island and table in the kitchen and went to look out the front window.

A young-looking, sturdy, black clad man with dark eyes and fair hair stood on the sidewalk. A mildly-scuffed, pale pickup lurked behind André’s brown truck. The young man seemed to be considering the front walk. Lelia returned to the kitchen as André came down the steps from his office. “Love, were you expecting a Hunter? Ladislu is standing just outside the shield.”

He frowned. “No. Were you?”

“No. I wonder.” She hung the towel on the rack and brushed off the front of her skirt. “Ladislu is Rendor’s youngest nephew. He’s the one who was intently not-watching Deborah on July fourth and at the harvest party.”

A somewhat predatory smile bloomed on her husband’s face. “Ah. Rendor was indirectly asking about dowry versus bride price back last fall, now that I think about it. Let him in, please.”

Lelia reached with her magic, lowering the house shield, as André went into the main room and settled into his chair. Rodney and Tay, their Familiars, scampered in and plopped themselves into nest and window-hammock respectively.

The young Hunter came up the brick walk to the door. He hesitated at the steps, then gathered himself and climbed onto the front porch. He’s got guts, I’ll give him that, to come here on his own. But how did he get our address?

The doorbell rang. André smiled, then sobered and nodded. Lelia answered the door. “Good evening. Be welcome to our home.”

Ladislu bowed. “Thank you.” He started to add something, caught himself, and came in. He glanced left and right, then turned and inclined toward André.

“Welcome. Please, be seated,” André commanded. Ladislu settled with excessive care onto the reproduction fainting couch as Lelia ducked into the kitchen. The book she’d read about Hunter clan traditions said that serious business had to be preceded by tea, something her son Hiram had confirmed with weary vehemence. She did her best not to obviously listen as André and Ladislu discussed commonplaces such as the Hunt, weather, and farming. I’d die of boredom. She knew the reason for the delay and the show of hospitality, but she rolled her eyes anyway. This isn’t the barbarian frontier, sheesh! Well, their neighborhood wasn’t. The doorway to the children’s area at her church was a different story, some days.

She found the fancy cookies she’d been saving for a treat, and arranged everything on the antique silver tea tray. Ladislu’s eyes opened wide with surprise as she carried it into the living room and set it on the coffee table. He recovered quickly, showing no sign of having noticed as she fixed a cup for orange-cinnamon herbal tea for André before getting out of the way. André drank and gestured toward Ladislu, making the clan’s sign for “your turn.” Ladislu did as told. Did any Hunter accept food he hadn’t watched being made, unless he knew the cook? They must not eat out much. Or had they picked it up from Arthur, while he led the Hunters? After Ladislu served himself, Lelia poured her own tea, and gave André his choice of cookies. All duties tended to, she sat in her sewing chair.

Two cups of tea later, Ladislu gathered himself. “Master Lestrang, Mistress Lestrang, with the agreement of my parents and Master Saldovado, I wish to ask your permission to court Mistress Deborah, and to ask for her hand in honorable marriage.” He took a deep breath. “I offer half the income of my machine shop, a share in the family farm, and one beef a year in bride price.”

Lelia bit her tongue as André gave his Familiar, Rodney the kit fox, a preemptive glare. Rodney sat up and rested one paw on his chest, as if asking “Who, me?” I know who will claim the beef, and no, we do not have freezer room!

“Is this to be paid to Miss Deborah, or to her mother and I?”

“To whomever you prefer, sir.”

“To Deborah.” André made a little beckoning gesture, and Lelia stood, then moved to stand at his right shoulder, just behind his chair. “I give you permission to court my daughter, Deborah.” Before the Hunter relaxed too much, he added, “Did she give you her permission to court and marry her?”

“Sir?” Pure confusion distilled into one syllable. Lelia bit her tongue to keep from giggling at the pole-axed expression on Ladislu’s face. Oh dear. Didn’t think about that, did we? And I wager Deborah’s bunicot didn’t bother to warn him, either. Mean Familiar snickers rose from hammock and nest.

André managed to hide his own mirth, but she felt his muscles trembling under her hand. “I repeat, do you have Deborah’s permission? Because I will not order her to wed if she does not care to.”

Ladislu gathered himself. “No, I do not, not yet, sir.”

Points for honesty and for not pushing it. Ladislu had not become the leader of the Hunters through stupidity. Lelia said, “Then I suggest that you approach Miss Deborah yourself and inquire as to her thoughts on the matter.”

“I give you permission to court my daughter, and my approval should she agree.” André flowed, moving faster than fast to stand an inch from Ladislu, a shadow ball in his hand. “And if she does not, and you think to force the issue, I have second claim on you.”

The young Hunter twitched, then said, voice calm, “Claim after Master Saldovado?”

Lelia’s fighting blade appeared in her hand. “After me. What we leave belongs to Master Saldovado, should he wish to bother himself with so minor a matter.” Don’t call my bluff. You won’t like what you find.

Tay coughed, drawing the Hunter’s eye. “They are not joking, young man,” Tay warned, his disapproval clear. “And remember this. Miss Deborah has been taught the skills of the Hunt as well as healing.”

Ladislu inhaled. “Master Lestrang, Mistress Lestrang, I was taught to respect when a young lady says ‘no,’ and to cease disturbing her. If Mistress Deborah refuses my suit, then I will not impose myself on her against her wishes.” His hand shook the tiniest bit despite his steady demeanor.

“Good choice,” Rodney said.

Lelia slid her knife back into the sheath as André reaffirmed his consent. “You do need to know that Deborah brings with her over fifty acres of land inside the city, including her house and consulting building, the in-town herb garden, and a nature reserve.”

Now Ladislu gulped. “Ah, I was not aware of the size of her bride portion, sir, ma’am. Thank you.” He looked down at the floor, then nodded. “Ah, thank you,” he repeated.

“That does not change the appropriate bride price, since part of the property is hers as guardian and not for use,” Lelia explained. “Should she sell the land, that section will become a state-owned and controlled nature reserve.”

“Ah.” Relief almost dripped from the young man. No, not that young, Lelia realized, just young by clan standards. Well, Deborah knew what she was getting into, if she chose to marry into the clan.

André raised his right hand. “Go with my blessing, Ladislu, and should Miss Deborah agree to your suit, then I welcome you into the family.”

“Thank you sir,” he bowed to André, then to Lelia. “Ma’am.” Lelia saw him out.

A thirty second silence, then the Familiars burst out laughing. “The look on his face! Har har har,” Tay guffawed as Rodney howled, rolling back and forth across the floor. And shedding silver-white fur all over, of course.

Lelia checked the level of tea left in the pot. Not enough for a full cup. She shrugged and poured it into her cup, then drank as André chuckled. “Are you going to warn her?” he inquired with a slightly evil grin.

She shook her head. “No. I suspect she knows that he’s interested. I don’t think he’d have asked Arthur’s permission without having checked Deborah’s interest level first.”

“He wouldn’t,” Tay said, now serious. “Arthur’s a little concerned about the other unmarried Hunters pushing things, but not that worried. Ladislu can hold his own. He now Hunts with the Senior Hunter, him or Ianku.”

Lelia made a face as she gathered the tea things to take to the kitchen to wash. “I wonder if Arthur was a little relieved to give up that job.”

“Probably, but he might not admit it even to himself.” André got to his feet, then stretched as best he could.

#

Two weeks later, Deborah appeared on the steps of the duplex just after supper. André let her in as Lelia finished cramming the leftovers into the fridge. They needed to go through and sort out which of his condiments needed to go, preferably into orbit beyond Pluto. A half-eaten package of something had snarled at her when she got the cheese out of the cheese drawer.

The door opened and closed. She heard murmurs, then, “Dad, what did you threaten Ladislu with?”

Lelia listened hard as silence stretched, then her husband admitted, “Sic’ing your mother on him.”

“Daaaaad! That was mean.” Lelia doubled over, shaking as she tried not to laugh aloud at the outrage in her daughter’s voice. “He’s terrified now. I finally had to ask him flat out if he wanted to marry me, he hemmed and hawed so much.”

Lelia managed to get herself under control and stepped into the main room. “And his answer was?” André inquired.

“He said yes, so I said yes.” Deborah extended her left hand, showing a rose-gold ring with a cabochon blue stone. “Ah, we were thinking a January wedding, since June is too soon and I’ll be up to my elbows in work, Art and Maria called first dibs on next April, and getting married during harvest wouldn’t be popular.”

“Nope!” Rodney agreed from beside the back door. “Unless you had a little church wedding then, only sixty or so guests, and the reception later, so there is time to organize the music and processional order, and menu, and—”

“Enough,” André and Deborah chorused. “Jinx. Thank you, Uncle Rodney, but this isn’t a royal wedding or corporate merger. And I shudder to imagine what my brothers would do if asked to give a toast.”

“A toast!” Tay called, standing on his hind legs and pretending to hold up a piece of bread. Lelia covered her eyes. Of course he’d quote that movie.

After several moments, Deborah glanced toward the front window, then eased closer. Lelia went on alert. “Um, have you heard anything about attacks on weaker magic workers? Nothing serious, but harassing stuff, intimidation, that kind of thing?”

“Not yet, but I haven’t asked, either,” Lelia said. She glanced at André. His eyes had hardened, and a bit of predator showed in his intent posture.

Deborah glanced out again, then made one of the clan’s gestures for uncertainty of some kind. “Three of my clients have mentioned little things, one witch called them imps, like Elementals but not that tried to interrupt her work. A second client had to stop doing pattern magic for several weeks because a pair of shielded birds would dive at her and try to break her concentration when she worked outdoors. It stopped just after the Equinox.” She shook her head. “I haven’t been bothered, neither have Ashtan, Phillip, or Art.”

“F.X. hasn’t mentioned anything,” Lelia said, thinking through the list of magic workers in town who she knew well. “Nor have either of the weekday covens.”

André pursed his lips, then shook his head once. “My Devon County student hasn’t mentioned it, but his being present might chase off anything that considered pestering that coven.”

“It probably has,” Rodney said, as Tay nodded. “He’s so paranoid, he probably stings anything that gets close, then asks for ID.”

“He’s not quite that bad. Quite,” Rodney’s mage said. He raised a cautionary finger. “We’re warned, Deborah, and I’ll ask him if he’s noticed anything more than the usual messes.”

She rolled her eyes. “Like the stupid charm war that started in Central High? And over books about a witch, not the usual TV or internet stuff. Sheesh.”

Lelia bit her tongue a little to keep from smiling or rolling her eyes as well. Her least favorite author had gotten sued into the poorhouse after including detailed instructions for casting an especially nasty spell in one of her bad-boy-warlock novels. Were they the teen-mage books, or the coven soap opera ones? Arthur had opted not to stock either series, for different reasons. Not the mage ones—the magic in those is so dumb it’s harmless. Lelia shrugged. Not her problem unless someone made it her problem.

(C) 2024 Alma T. C. Boykin All Rights Reserved