Magic Lessons (Practical Magic #0.1)(105)

“I thought you might tell me something about love,” Faith said.

He laughed at her sheer nerve. Ruth really had no business taking in strangers. Hathorne stood up, for he knew the intimidating effect of his height on most people, although right away he could see this girl wasn’t the least bit cowed. “I’ll have you let go in the morning. You should pack tonight.”

“So you know nothing about love?”

He gave her a dark look. Girls her age were foolish, dreamy things. “You marry as you’re expected to.” He was blathering on for no reason, telling her the truth of his feelings. Well, what did it matter? She’d soon enough be gone. “So yes, I know nothing about love. Perhaps I’m incapable of it.”

“Wasn’t there a woman some time ago? You must have loved her.”

“In Cura?ao,” he said before he could stop himself. “I left without saying a word. I didn’t know what to do with her. She wanted too much and all I wished for was to be left in peace. It all went wrong before I thought it through.”

He had no idea why he’d said all that. It made him sound as if he were a coward and then, quite suddenly, he realized that he was. His eyes and throat burned. As a child he was caned if he wept, but now he feared that if he weren’t careful he’d soon be crying in front of this housemaid. Love was nothing he thought about. It hadn’t affected him in the least, except for a day or two when he was enchanted, when he seemed to be another man entirely. Hathorne thought of his wife on their wedding night, weeping for her parents. He didn’t say a word to comfort her, he just did as he pleased. He imagined the women on trial begging for their lives, the ones in prison, the ones who’d been hanged. Hathorne had seen evil everywhere, but now it resided within him. That was the truth if he was to tell it. That was what he was saying now.

“I would change things if I could. I would be another man.” He shook his head and pushed the tea away. “I was that for a while.”

“Men don’t change who they are deep inside. You must have hid yourself from her.”

Hathorne narrowed his eyes. It had been a hellish day and that hell continued now. “Who do you think you are?”

“Who do you think I am?” the girl replied.

And then he knew. He looked closely and saw what was directly before him. She was indeed his daughter, too smart for her own good. He was impressed despite himself. The cool gray gaze, the fearlessness, the way she could hold her own against him. He wished his son could do as well.

It was then that the black charm fell from the folds of Faith’s garment and rolled upon the floor. Hathorne knew it for what it was, some sort of wicked curse. He should have expected as much; she was not only his daughter, but also the daughter of a witch. Evil is drawn to evil. Truth is drawn to truth.

Before he could reach for it, Faith picked up the charm though it pierced her hands.

“I’ve decided not to use it,” Faith said. It was true, she’d done enough damage and had already changed his fate. She had seen her likeness in his eyes. A wounded person who wounded others. “I had it with me in case you acted against me with ill will, for my own protection.”

“I think we shan’t wait till morning,” he said. “You can leave tonight.”

“I will do so.” Faith untied her apron, then pulled off her cap. Her red hair shone in the dim light of the room.

“You’ve been making me say all I’ve said tonight. You’ll leave here now and not come back. If you were anyone else I would have you arrested.” But the witch trials were over, and if anything he might face charges for having a child outside of his marriage. Best to be rid of her, as he’d rid himself of Maria. He took out a purse of coins, which she quickly refused. He shook his head. She was nothing but trouble. “You’re very like your mother,” he said.

“Thank you.” Faith’s eyes were burning. “I was afraid I might take after you.”

She threw out the rest of the pie, so no one else in the household would mistakenly eat it; inside were the bird bones, fragile little things that made a sob rise in Faith’s throat. This is where left-handed magic had brought her, to the black edges of revenge. As it was the cursed stew would change John Hathorne’s future and his standing in history.

Faith left a note for Ruth, thanking her for her kindness. She wondered if Ruth had known who she was, and had taken her in to make up for how John Hathorne had wronged her. It didn’t matter anymore. Faith no longer wanted anything, not even revenge. It had changed her into something she didn’t wish to be, and the price was too high. She made sure to lock the door when she left. She had met her father and he had met her, and she didn’t know which of them was the worse for having done so.



* * *



Two farmers spied her in the field, in her black cape and red boots, running as fast as she could. They knew immediately what she was. She was followed by a dark shifting shape, a wolf with silver eyes. When she left the Hathornes, she’d found that Keeper was waiting in the garden. No matter what she had done, he still belonged to her, and she to him. She went on her knees to embrace him before they ran off together, stumbling into this wretched place where men found evil in everything they saw, in shoes, in cloaks, in wolves, in women.

The farmers would later tell the constable that she had set their barn on fire, but in fact they themselves overturned a lantern in their hurry to chase after her, guns in hand. When there is murder intended, murder will be the result. They shot into the dark as if the dark itself were their enemy. They had both been there on the day the crows died, and it was an event that still thrilled them, for they had embroidered the story with an attack of murderous crows sent by the devil himself. When they heard a howl, they thought it was a she-wolf, but it was Faith, crying out as Keeper fell into the grass. She sank to her knees and held her hands over the bloody wounds, reciting an incantation of protection, but it was impossible to staunch the flow of blood. She was reaching for The Book of the Raven, so distraught she didn’t notice when men came up behind her, guns ready. The barn was in flames now, and the men blamed her, though she had only passed by. A witch’s presence can cause mayhem, and now that they had her, they feared her. They wrapped chains around Faith and studied her as she cursed them, a girl drenched in wolf’s blood, powerless at last, the sort of girl they’d like to drown.