Page 8 of The Rules of Magic

Franny narrowed her eyes. “We’re not susceptible to reverse psychology. We know all about it. Our father is a psychiatrist.”

“I’ve been to more headshrinkers than you’ll ever meet,” April informed them. “Tell them you can’t sleep and your parents don’t understand you and you can pretty much get any drug that you want.”

Vincent heard voices and came to the topmost stair.

“Well, well,” April said when he appeared on the attic landing. “Aren’t you gorgeous.”

It was not a question, and so there was no need to answer. Vincent shrugged, but he didn’t disagree.

“An Owens man is bound to have more power than the seventh son of a seventh son. I suspect you’re a wizard.”

“Well, thank you,” Vincent responded, pleased by her attentions.

“He’s hardly a man,” Franny said dismissively. “He’s fourteen. And learning magic out of a book does not make him a wizard.”

April gave Franny the once-over. Perhaps she had met her match, but she doubted it. Franny had a hard exterior, but she was also quite innocent.

By now, Jet and Vincent were drawn in by their cousin’s brash glamour as April held forth, enlightening her younger cousins. She told them how to slip out the window and climb down the drainpipe if they wished to sneak out, and warned that there were mice hiding in the bureau drawers and beneath the beds.

“Watch out for the beehive,” she recommended. “The honey is so sweet anyone who eats it immediately wants to have sex.”

Jet and Franny exchanged mortified glances, while Vincent grinned and asked, “How do you know?”

April threw him a world-weary look. “I’ve tried it,” she said.

“Sex or the honey?” Vincent teased.

“What do you think?” April stared at him with such intensity that he shrugged and gave up. She’d won that round. “You do understand that we’re different from other people.” When met with silence April knew she had them in thrall. “I can’t believe how naïve you all are. Where do you think your power comes from? We’re bloodline witches. Which means we have no choice in the matter. It’s a genetic factor. Like blue eyes or red hair. It’s who you are.”

“Don’t tell me who I am,” Franny shot back.

“You can argue all you want,” Vincent said. “I don’t care where it comes from, as long as I have it. While you debate, I’m actually going out to live my life, wizard or not.”

He took the narrow stairs two at a time all the way to the first floor. He then went out through the kitchen, letting the screen door slam behind him. They could hear his boots clattering on the porch steps. The girls went to the window to watch him stride down Magnolia Street.

“Headed for trouble,” April said cheerfully.

“How do you know that?” Jet wondered.

April grinned. There was definitely a family resemblance. “Because I’m headed for the very same place.”

During the time April stayed with them, she and Vincent left the house together each morning. They said they had taken up running, which they vowed would become a huge trend someday. But whenever they returned they were wearing their black clothes and boots and they clearly hadn’t broken a sweat. Jet and Franny both resented being cut out of their mysterious doings. Franny was jealous of the time Vincent spent away from them, but it was April whom Jet wanted to know better, if only to borrow some of her cousin’s fabulous clothes.

Still, each day April and Vincent continued to disappear without a trace, clearly looking for the trouble they would one day find. At last Franny spied them in the rare book room at the library, intent on The Magus. The two of them had gleefully set the glass-drop chandeliers to shaking, which had the librarians frantically calling town hall to see if there had been an earthquake. The cousins were so engrossed they didn’t notice that Franny had entered the room until she threw herself into a chair directly across from them. Then they looked up, blinking, caught in the act. They were glad they had earlier set a spell on Franny so she would never know what they were up to.

“Brilliant,” Franny scolded. Her eyesight was fuzzy, as if she couldn’t quite see the trouble they were brewing. “Practicing the dark arts in a public place. That will make the locals love us.”

“Screw the locals,” April responded. “Did you know this was the spot where the old jail stood? Maria Owens sat here in chains. It has enormous power.”

“It’s a library. Somehow I didn’t think of you two as library hounds.”

“I am not a hound,” Vincent said.

“I can’t believe this is where you spend your time,” Franny said.

“We also smoke pot at the lake,” April cheerfully revealed.

“Our lake?” Franny said to Vincent, truly hurt now.