Page 46 of The Book of Magic

Kylie made the mistake of shifting her stance. The woman inside the car caught her eye and waved.

“I’d like my phone,” the young woman called. “We’ve got to go.”

“I’m kind of with someone here,” Kylie said.

“What do you mean with someone? Like a guide?”

“A man.”

Agitated, Antonia got out of the car. The baby was so low, standing still was uncomfortable, and she began to pace on the grass. She hated driving home to Cambridge at this hour of the day; there was too much traffic and the sun was in her eyes. Maybe that was why she felt like crying. What was left of the apple pie was in the car. Could it be that was why Kylie had phoned?

“What man?” Antonia wanted to know.

“He said he could help me. He’s cursed, too. I thought he could at first. Now I’m not sure.” Kylie felt humiliated and degraded by throwing in her lot with a stranger who wanted such dark results for those who had cursed him.

“Do you even know who he is?” Antonia asked.

“He’s somehow related to us. He’s taught himself left-handed magic.”

“Are you listening to yourself?” Antonia said to her little sister. “Even I know that means the Dark Art.”

“He understands me,” Kylie said stubbornly. She had left the book with him and it was dawning on her that her sister might be right. Trust was something a person earned.

“You’ve only just met him. He can’t understand you,” Antonia said. “He doesn’t even know you.”

“He’s told me things we were never told about our bloodline.”

“Oh, for God’s sake, Kylie, stop all this nonsense and listen to me. You need to let Mom know where you are and let Franny handle this.”

Her sister was always the same, even when she was three thousand miles away. The dependable sister, the one who believed in proof, logic, and rational thought. “You don’t know who I am anymore,” Kylie said sadly.

“Of course I do. I know you better than anyone. Certainly better than whoever that man is.”

If her sister wanted proof, proof is what she would get. Kylie snapped a photo of herself on the stranger’s phone. She looked sulky, a tall, awkward young woman with long black hair standing in a parking lot.

“Hey,” the woman called to her, pissed off now. “Seriously. I was doing you a favor. We’ve got to go.”

“You’ll see,” Kylie told her sister. “You won’t even recognize me.”

“I love you,” Antonia said, but Kylie didn’t answer with I love you more. Instead, she sent the photo, then ended the call while Antonia was still talking, saying she would know Kylie anywhere and anytime. The hikers had started their car, which was roughly idling.

“That took long enough,” the phone’s owner said, a bit huffy, when Kylie returned it to her.

“Thanks, I really appreciate it,” Kylie said as she went on into the store to pick up some groceries before it closed. But maybe it had been a mistake to call. She missed her sister and she missed Gideon. She missed who she used to be, but Kylie was someone different now. She felt an attraction to Tom, to the story he told. She picked up a few bottles of beer, some local cheese, pickles, and a loaf of bread then walked out without paying. All she had to do was whisper a spell of protection and hide behind her long black hair, and before she knew it she was invisible to most people’s eyes. She felt a rush of emotion breaking this simple rule.

Do not steal, do not lie, do not trust a man you can never really know.

On the side of the road, as the traffic on Highway 93 hurtled by, Antonia clicked on the photo she’d been sent. There was a tall young woman in a parking lot. Kylie’s inky black hair had blown across her face when a gust of wind picked up, but she could be seen quite plainly. It was her sister, the person Antonia knew better than anyone. Yes, she looked different, but it didn’t matter if her hair was black or brown, if she looked frightened and desperate and alone, it didn’t matter if she was in the first Essex County or the second, in Cambridge or halfway around the world. Antonia knew her sister better than Kylie knew herself. She got back inside the car and called her mother.

The room was stuffy, and Sally had gone to open the window. There were lilacs outside in the softening air. She had been thinking about her conversation with Ian on the train. The way he leaned toward her when he agreed with her and leaned away when he disagreed, as though he’d been burned. She had wanted him to come closer, but then she happened to see the palm of his left hand, the fortune he had made. The lines matched hers exactly.

As soon as she answered her phone, all such thoughts fell away when she heard Antonia’s voice.

“Are you all right? Is the baby all right?”

“My baby’s fine. Your baby is the problem. Some man seems to have gotten a hold on her and he’s leading her over to the left-handed side.”

Sally felt a knot of panic inside of her, near her heart, something bitter, something cold. “Bad Tom.”