An Excerpt of Charlotte Montgomery

Little Charlotte beamed up at her grandfather and tugged at his white beard.

“Now, now, Charlotte, what’d Poppy say about pulling that?” The man’s Scottish accent broke his words.

“Don’t.” The three year old giggled. Her bright green eyes had a distinct glow about them.

“I need you to say sumthun’ fer me. Can you do that?”

“I can say lots of things!” The little girl boasted.

The old man laughed. “Well this should be nuthing then! Say ‘With eight legs crawling, it’s this creature that I’m calling’.” The old man uncurled his fist to reveal a small spider.

Afraid of the arachnid, the little girl withdrew, but then she became curious. “Poppy, how-how did you…?”

“Magic.” The old man whispered.

Charlotte’s eyes grew wide as she repeated the word. The phrase her grandfather told her fled her mouth. A small spider appeared in her hand.

The old man grinned and stroked his beard. “Well, I’ll be damned.”

“You’ll be what?”

“Never mind. I can’t believe it.”

Another man, much more trimmed and much less aged than the other one asked horrified, “Dad, what did you show her?”

“I taught her a spider charm. It doesn’t matter. The important thing is that I finally get to train one of my ancestors as a witch!”

“S-she’s a witch!” The girl’s father gaped.

Still smiling the old man ranted, “I waited so long. You, your wife, your son; not a one of you was a witch. And now, now!” Picking up the little girl by her armpits, he stood and kissed her forehead.

“Dad, on the slight chance that Chuck was a witch, we weren’t going to tell her until she was older! She’ll go around telling everyone! She’s three!”

“Nah, will you, Charlotte?”

The girl shook her head. “No, Daddy, can I keep the magic?”

He tried to hold back a smile, but he couldn’t. “Yes, you can keep the magic. You ready to go home?”

She yawned, which was answer enough for her father. Once Charlotte was in his arms, her eyes drooped.

“You’ll bring her back, right?” There was greed in the man’s shining black eyes.

“Dad, do you even plan on coming to one of Robbie’s football games?”

“Football! Football! How does mud and cold and a pig-skin ball compare to ancient ways and forgotten traditions?”

The young man rolled his eyes. “Maybe if you went to a game or two, you’d like it. He’s great. He really is. And Chuck isn’t your only grandchild.”

The man grumbled. “O course, but Charlotte has the gift. She’s the witch.”

“Stop saying that! Do you know all the danger that witches get into? The longer that she’s ignorant, the better.” He stroked back his daughter’s dark brown curls.

“Ignorant? The girl needs to know how to protect herself! What’s she going to think when a black market trader comes along and cuts out her tongue?”

“I won’t let it happen.”

The man pointed a wrinkled finger at his son. “Kylemore Montgomery, you can’t protect her forever!”

“Then I will for as long as I can! And don’t call me Kylemore, not even Susan knows that!”

“Is that why you didn’t wear a kilt at your wedding?”

“Enough with that! It’s been almost a decade, Dad!”

“So are you going to let me teach her or not?”

“Eventually.”

Author's Note

This is all I've been able to get out lately.

Reviews

[Ardeth Lane]

I just reread this. Again. :)

[Arien Bleuefire]

ooooooo..... luvvin it! i rly want more!! def write more!!