“A fireyoustarted!”
“Oh, so I should’ve just followed Brendan’s orders? Let him rip out our magic, torture us for sport, and burn us at the stake? Good call, Rachel. No wonder everyone says you’re the smart one.”
“There are demons in our living room!” Rachel quite nearly explodes, and I make this observation without a trace of hyperbole.
“Would anyone like tea?” This, from Kate, who’s been mostly silent since Helena ferried us back to the Bonnivarde home. After escorting the women inside, Helena informed us she’d be doing a bit of recon at the smoldering mansion. Kate had hugged her and told her to stay safe; that was the last word she’d uttered until now.
I can’t speak to her usual personality, but the wan smile and glazed eyes speak to a state of shock that didn’t quite abate, even after my companions and I returned to our much less intimidating human forms.
“Tea is made from plants,” she continues tonelessly. “Yes. That’s what we need.”
With that strange observation, she putters into the kitchen. Oliver trails after her, offering assistance. If I had to guess at the change inhispersonality, I’d say the middle-born witch has engaged his protective instincts—a side he rarely shows.
“Rachel, I’m telling you,” Elizabeth says. “I didn’tsummonthem. Merrick, Oliver, and Warren are on our side. If you’ll just calm the fuck down for five seconds, I can explain?—”
“Calm down? Calmdown? We were nearly murdered by your ex-boyfriend and a demon wearing a spider suit! And you set them on fire! And Helena is a fucking bat!”
“To be fair,” Elizabeth says, “Helena spilled the bat beans that first night. You were just too busy sticking your head in the sand, as usual.”
“No.” Rachel’s pacing again, her body trembling—fear, latent adrenaline, anger. “You donotget to criticize me,littlesister. You’re the one who?—”
“Enough!” I rise from the sofa, where I’ve been confined since our arrival, trying to let the sisters work out their ownissues. Clearly, we need a new strategy. “Rachel, if I may be so bold… While you were busy denying the very existence of the portal and your family’s critical role in maintaining it, Elizabeth was making a concerted effort to connect with her magic and embrace her responsibilities. In my professional opinion, which is both highly qualified and singularly well-regarded, she shows the greatest potential as a Bonnivarde witch—a line that’s been revered forcenturies. And while she credits my colleagues and me with tonight’s rescue, it was her quick thinking in summoning the imps and turning them against our captors that enabled our escape. If not for the so-calledlittlesister, all of us would’ve burned to ash. Continue to underestimate and berate her, and perhaps the next time you find yourself in the clutches of a murderous cult, she’ll leave you to face them alone.”
I stare her down, letting the words simmer, a tense silence broken only by the sudden screech of the kettle.
I expect that to be the end of it, but then she turns on Elizabeth with new fire.
“How long have you been studying witchcraft behind our backs?”
“Um… since… the whole time?”
“What? Lizzy!”
“I couldn’t help it! Mom’s ghost showed up in my room, along with our ancestor Calista, and?—”
“Wait. Wait.Ghosts? So not only is our house full of demons, we’ve got ghosts in the mix too?”
Elizabeth recounts the story of her visions and spirit communications, her magical indoctrination, our lessons and work on the portal.
Rachel is not soothed by the explanation. In fact, she looks positively inconsolable. And outside, when the wind begins to howl, and the rain turns suddenly from a misty drizzle to a lashing beast, the academic in me can’t help but wonder ifthe elder witch’s innate powers have something to do with emotional control.
Even absent the grimoire’s physical presence, now that the witches have unlocked it, it’s only a matter of time before the elder two are forced to acknowledge the magic roiling within them. To accept it as part of their destiny.
“I don’t accept this,” Rachel says, her voice pitched high. “Listen to yourself, Lizzy. Listen to the words coming out of?—”
“No,youlisten.” Elizabeth gets to her feet, confronting Rachel head on, and I can’t help but marvel. Is this the same witch who felt compelled to hide her studies, to cover with a ruse about cleaning the basement because she feared the consequences of honesty?
“I get that you’re pissed at me,” my witch says, “and I accept that. I messed up, and now I have to figure out how to deal with the fallout. But you donotget to scold me for trying to do the right thing. Helena warned us about this, and I tried to bring you into the fold, andyourefused to listen. About the magic, the portal, Killroy?—”
“Oh, please. Don’t pretend you’re some fucking saint all of a sudden. You weren’t doing this out of altruism. You wanted the magic for yourself.”
“You didn’t even believe in it!” Elizabeth replies.
“That doesn’t change the fact that your motivation was greed, pure and simple. Iknowyou, Lizzy. You saw magic as your ticket to easy street, and you went after that prize without another thought.”
I’m about to step in when Elizabeth lets out a long exhale and nods.
“You’re right, Rach,” she says softly. “Thatwasmy reason. I thought if I could figure out magic, I could use it to fix everything I screwed up in my life. I could pay off my debts, find a decent apartment with a landlord who didn’t sneak cameras into mybedroom. I could mojo someone into hiring me for a decent job, or—even better—bail out of work entirely. I could whip up a love potion, find a guy willing to ignore my baggage. Maybe even magic up a whole fucking family, because I sure as Hell didn’t have one of my own.”
