The Rules of Magic (Practical Magic #2)(25)

“Well it is and it’s your business, too. The Willards despise our family. There’s some sort of feud. It’s been going on for hundreds of years. It has something to do with the curse.”

The sisters looked at her blankly.

“Don’t you get it?” April said. “He’s part of the secret.”

“I doubt that,” Franny said.

“You can doubt all you want.” She turned to Jet. “Have you met the Reverend?”

“Not yet,” Jet admitted.

“You probably never will. He’ll refuse to be in the same room. He’s not too well bred to hate us. I wandered into his garden during my first visit to Aunt Isabelle’s and he came out and poured salt on the ground, as if I had contaminated the place. Our aunt went over there, and I received a letter of apology in the mail, but his garden died right after that; maybe it was a lack of rain or maybe it was our aunt, I don’t know. I just know none of this bodes well for a happy future for you and Levi Willard.”

“Things change,” Jet said bravely.

“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.

“Well, somewhat isn’t enough. We weren’t nice to her so she left.”

“I was always nice to her. Wasn’t I?”

“No,” Franny said bluntly. “You were dismissive.”

“Is that another word for cruel?” Vincent seemed remorseful.

“Of course not,” Franny assured her brother. It was difficult to speak to someone who was avoiding the truth. “You’re just interested in other things.”

“Am I?” Vincent said.

Franny had decided to go forward with the love-divining spell to prove that love was out of the question for her. Stick two silver pins into a candle. When the candle burns down to the second pin your beloved will appear. Surely no one would arrive. She went and fetched two straight pins from their mother’s sewing basket.