Page 21 of The Rules of Magic

“Do they?” April had begun to unpack. Along with her clothes, she’d brought several candles. “Aunt Isabelle always says that every guest should bring a gift when visiting. Even if that guest is unwanted.” She handed a red candle to Franny and a white one to Jet. “If you wish to see who your true love is, prick two silver pins into the wax. When the candle burns down to the second pin your beloved will arrive. Works every time.”

“No thank you. I already know my true love,” Jet said stubbornly.

“I have zero interest in games like this,” Franny informed their cousin.

“She believes in logic and empirical evidence,” Jet informed April.

“So do I,” April said. “I’m the scientist here. I’ve been studying arachnids in my spare time. Especially those that murder their mates after reproducing. I feel it will give me insight into the odds we Owens women have.”

“If you plan on calling yourself a scientist you should be aware that odds don’t matter. The natural world defies statistics.”

“Does it?” April made a face that showed she disagreed. “I think the genetic realities of our family are quite obvious. It’s in our blood.” She took out a last candle for Vincent.

“He won’t be interested,” Franny said with assurance.

“You never know,” April said.

“Yes I do,” Franny insisted.

As usual, Vincent came home late. He peered into the sisters’ room to find Jet asleep and Franny in bed reading a book concerning the migration of owls. Even from a distance, Vincent stank of cigarettes and whiskey.

“Let me guess,” Franny said. “You were at a bar.”

Vincent sat on the edge of the bed. “Dad said April is here.”

“You spoke to Dad?” They both laughed. Conversations with their father were rare. “She’s leaving after breakfast,” Franny reported. “Thankfully.”

“She’s not so bad,” Vincent said.

“Oh, please.”

“She’s actually sort of vulnerable.”

“Hard to believe. She seems perfectly capable and extremely full of herself. By the way, she brought you a gift.”

Vincent frowned. “Did she?”

Franny gestured to a black candle on her desk. “She says it will show you your true love.”

Vincent pitched the candle into a trash can. “Not interested.”

“Exactly as I thought.” Franny nodded. “I know you too well.”

“Mind if I sleep on the floor?” Vincent was far from sober, and before Franny could answer he sprawled out on the white carpet, where he snored gently through the rest of the night.

In the morning, when Franny went to the spare room, April was gone. She hadn’t bothered to wait for breakfast. She hadn’t said good-bye. All that remained of their cousin were a few pale hairs on her pillow and a note. Thanks for nothing.

Franny sat on the bed, which was still faintly warm. She felt guilty and ashamed. After all, they shared the same bloodline. Franny asked the dresser drawer to open, which it quickly did. There was the red candle. Franny placed it on the night table. She closed her eyes and willed it away. It fell onto the floor and rolled toward the door.

Vincent had come to the threshold of the room. He picked up the candle. “You’ve been practicing,” he said admiringly.

“I don’t have to practice,” Franny responded. “None of us do. April was right. It’s in our blood.”

“Where is April?” Vincent asked, puzzled by the empty room.

“Do you care?” Franny asked.

“Somewhat,” he admitted.