The Rules of Magic (Practical Magic #2)(56)

“That’s right,” Franny said. “I didn’t get to go to school. I couldn’t be your roommate.”

She went to the door, past the dying man. The shroud was almost completely encircling him now, but he murmured his gratitude when Franny stopped to touch his forehead. She stayed until he had passed over; it was so brief, like a sigh. Then she went on, despite Hay calling out to her. She ran all the way to South Station, her heart thudding against her chest. Emily. His roommate. Well, what had she expected? She had sent him off. She had told him to go and not to look back.

On the train, Franny smoldered with fury and hurt. At Penn Station she cut a path through the crowd and walked home in the dark. That night she cried tears so black they stained the sheets. She didn’t change out of the clothes she’d worn when she was beside Haylin in bed. They still carried his scent. In the morning, she went into the garden.

Jet spied her sister from the kitchen window. She went outside and they sat together on the back steps. Snow had begun to fall but the sisters remained where they were.

“He found someone else,” Franny said.

“There will never be anyone else.”

“Well there is. Her name is Emily. She’s his roommate.”

“Only because you told him to go.”

“Either way, she’s the one who has him.” Oh, it was horrible. Franny was crying. She was mortified. She quickly buried her face in her hands. “I let him go and now he belongs to someone else. And it’s better for him that way.”

“You can love him if you want to,” Jet told Franny. The scar on her face bloomed in cold weather, turning the color of violets. “To hell with the curse. You don’t have to make the same mistakes all the other women in our family have made.”

“Why would I be any different?”

“You’ll be the one to outsmart it.”

“Unlikely,” Franny said sadly.

“You will,” Jet insisted. She didn’t have to have the sight to know this. “Wait and see.”



April Owens arrived on a Greyhound bus on a bright spring day in 1966 and walked to the Village from Forty-Second Street. It had been nearly six years since she had first met Franny and Jet and Vincent, but somehow it had felt as though she’d known them forever, so it made perfect sense to show up in New York without bothering to write or call. It was a long walk, but she didn’t mind. All she wanted was to be free. Every mortal being was entitled to that right, no matter what her history might be. April was still fierce, but now she was most fierce in her devotion to her daughter. She didn’t mind when Regina, only five and usually very good-humored, grew tired and cranky by the time they passed Pennsylvania Station, and had to be carried the rest of the way.

Regina was dressed in a T-shirt and a gauzy little skirt that she referred to as her princess outfit, but now she was an exhausted princess. She fell asleep in her mother’s arms, heavier in sleep than she had been while awake. No matter. April kept going. She was wearing jeans and a fringed vest and her long pale hair was in braids, bound with beaded leather ties. She stood out in midtown among a sea of suits and proper dresses, but as she headed downtown she looked like anybody else on the street. She found number 44 Greenwich and rang the bell. She liked what she saw. The tilted house, the trees in the garden, the shop that sold enchantments, the school yard next door where scores of children were out at play.

When Jet threw open the door, she embraced April and her daughter, who resembled Franny, though her hair was as black as Jet’s and Vincent’s. For the first time since Levi’s death Jet felt a bit of happiness when she looked into the face of the little girl. She wasn’t even grumpy to have been woken and introduced to a stranger. She was very serious and she shook Jet’s hand and said, “Very nice to meet you.”

“I can’t believe how big Regina is! And how polite! Are you sure she’s an Owens?”

“She most assuredly is.”

“You should have told us you were coming for a visit. I would have prepared something special. Now the house is a mess.”

“That’s immaterial. And this is not a visit, dear Jet. It’s a jailbreak.” April had an overstuffed backpack and a duffel bag, both of which she deposited on the couch in the parlor. There were dark circles under her eyes and she appeared drained. “My parents want to take Reggie from me. They want her to grow up on Beacon Hill and go to a private school in a chauffeured car. It’s everything I don’t want for her. Everything I wanted to escape from. They said they’d fight me in court if they had to. I think they’ve already retained a lawyer. So I’m headed to California. Let them try to find me there. This is just a pit stop. I hope you don’t mind.”

“You know you can stay as long as you’d like.”

Franny came in from the garden with a basket of herbs she had just picked, comfrey, mint, and, though it was not as often needed these days due to the birth control pill, pennyroyal. City soot had veined the herbs’ leaves black, so Franny always had to soak them in cold water and vinegar in the big kitchen sink. She stopped in her tracks when she saw the little girl.

Regina looked up at her and smiled. “You’re the good witch,” she said.

Franny laughed. She’d certainly never thought of herself that way, still she was charmed. “Have you ever heard of a tipsy cake?” she asked.