Page 78 of That Ain’t Witchcraft

I was pretty sure losing a parent would hurt no matter how old somebody was when it happened, but I didn’t say that. “Why?”

“Because some ancestor of hers decided his magic,” there was a bitter twist to the word that was almost more shocking than hearing the word at all, “was more important than his family, and he made a deal to make sure it would always breed true. Apparently, it doesn’t a lot of the time, for magic folks.”

“It skips generations,” I said, in as neutral a tone as I could manage.

“It does,” said Captain Smith, and frowned. “You don’t seem surprised.”

“Because I’m not,” I said. “One of James’ ancestors made a deal with the crossroads to guarantee all his descendants would be sorcerers and had worded it in such a way that when each new member of the family began to come into their magic, the previous member of the family would die a sudden and unavoidable death. That’s pretty straightforward. What keeps him here in town?”

“The bargain included the phrase ‘that New Gravesend should always be protected against the dangers of the unseen world,’” said Captain Smith.

I pinched the bridge of my nose. “Of course it did. All right. First, you should talk to your son, because he has no idea you know any of this, and he’s a sorcerer, so telling him you know magic exists wouldn’t be the worst idea you ever had. And you don’t break a crossroads bargain by making sure someone is ignorant of the fact that it affects them.” Was he ignorant? Truly?

He had to be. He would have said something if not, or recognized that he could be contesting his family’s bargain, rather than Sally’s: there’s nothing like an old family debt that you didn’t volunteer for and can’t get away from to make a case for systemic unfairness.

Captain Smith’s cheeks reddened. “I didn’t come here to be told how to raise my son.”

“Uh, you already raised him. He’s an adult. The only reason he hasn’t been clawing the walls down trying to get out of this town is because he’s been trying to get justice for Sally, but one day he’s going to give up, or he’s going to decide he needs to consult with somebody who knows more about this shit than he does. He’s going to take whatever he’s been able to save from his shitty job and buy a bus ticket for anywhere but here, and then what? He crosses the city limits and dies of a massive coronary? You’re doing him no favors and a lot of future harm by keeping him in the dark. So no, I will not stay away from your son, and no, I will not help you do a better job of lying to him, and I would like you to get out of my house now, please.”

Captain Smith regarded me levelly for several seconds. “I could make life in this town very difficult for you.”

“Life in this town is already difficult enough. Leave, please.”

He started for the door. Then he paused, turning to give me a thoughtful look. “How do you know all this about magic?”

“Oh, didn’t I mention? I’m a sorcerer, too.” I raised my hand, fingers poised like I was going to snap and, I don’t know, blow us both to Kingdom Come. “Leave, please. I don’t want to explain why you’re here when James comes back.”

Captain Smith gave me a look that was half anger, half fear before bolting for the door. I ran after him, slamming it so hard the windows rattled and flipping the deadbolt home. My heart was pounding; my skin felt two sizes too small.

“Get it together, Annie,” I whispered, leaning my forehead against the doorframe and forcing myself to breathe. “Get it together.”

The crossroads hated sorcerers. That wasn’t a surprise. But how many of us had it destroyed, limited, confined, all for the sake of avoiding the confrontation I was trying to help kick off? This was too much. This was too big. We weren’t going to win. The crossroads had destroyed generations of people just like me, and it was hubris to think we were going to be any different. James wasn’t going to get away. I wasn’t going to get away. It was over. We’d lost.

I looked longingly toward Cylia’s purse, still sitting on the floor by the end of the couch. She had a prepaid burner cell. I knew she did because I’d been there when she bought it. Having a phone number was essential if she wanted to set up and pay for things like utilities.

I could call home. One last time. I could tell my mother I loved her. I could tell my father I was sorry. I could tell my mice they were going to need to prepare a new set of catechisms soon, rituals I was never going to be a part of, because we were going to lose bad. We were all going to die here, so damn far away from home, and I hated it, and it wasn’t fair, and it wasn’t right, and I could call home if I wanted to. I could say good-bye.

Or I could win. I could tell the odds and the crossroads to go fuck themselves, and I could win. It seemed impossible. It seemed more than impossible. It was still the better option.

Reluctantly, I pushed away from the door and walked toward the kitchen, leaving Cylia’s purse alone. The curtains were drawn across the kitchen window. I pushed them aside, and shouted in dismay as Sam’s face appeared, all but pressed against the glass.

“There you are,” he mouthed, words silenced by the thick, storm-ready pane. He disappeared. The door opened a moment later, and he stuck his head inside.

“James says the circle is close enough to perfect as makes no difference, and he wants you to come have a look before we get ready to start the summons,” he said. “Leonard should be at the crossroads by now. Think they’ll eat him? Could we get that lucky?”

“Talk to Cylia if it’s luck you’re looking for,” I said, and took a deep breath before muttering, “Here goes nothing,” and stepping out the back door.

Bethany didn’t appear. I allowed my shoulders to unlock.

Sam nodded. “See? We’re doing this.” Then he grabbed my wrist with one still-human hand and tugged me off the porch, heading across the field toward the distant shadow of the boathouse.

I’ve never been the most outdoorsy member of my family, but I’ve never been on the verge of losing everything outside my bedroom walls before. The world seemed to have become supersaturated during my short time inside, the colors growing brighter, the smells growing more intense. I looked around as much as I dared as we trotted through the field, not quite running, but more than walking fast.

Fern was waiting just outside the boathouse. “What took you so long?” she asked.

“I got distracted cleaning up.” I could tell them about Captain Smith later, when Mary was back and we were going up against the crossroads directly. James would need to know. He didn’t deserve to be blindsided by the news that one of his ancestors had guaranteed his mother’s death, or that his father had been lying to him for his entire life.

Sometimes, good intentions do more damage than all the wicked plots in all the world.