The Rules of Magic (Practical Magic 0)(31)

“If you keep drinking like this, I’m sure there will be one sooner or later.”

Franny sounded flip, but all the same she felt a chill. Vincent’s eyes were nearly black, never a good sign.

“I’m serious,” he said. “Our family. This month. When there’s a full moon.”

“Well, then, you don’t have to worry.” There had been a full moon at the beginning of the month. “It’s come and gone.”

Franny remembered the moon because she and Hay had sneaked out to meet at Seventy-Fourth Street in front of the statue of Alice in Wonderland. Midnight had been bright as day and they could easily read the lines chiseled in granite around the sculpture: ’Twas brillig, and the slithy toves did gyre and gimble in the wabe. Franny had started something between them with a kiss and now what was done could not be undone, nor would she want it to be. Brillig was said to mean four o’clock in the afternoon, but surely it must mean more: broiling, brilliant, luminous, shimmering, unstoppable.

“Stop worrying about the moon,” she told Vincent, “and start worrying about your drinking.”

She gestured to the glass before him, and Vincent gulped down the rest of the drunkenness cure. He already seemed more clearheaded, but when he set the glass down it shattered into thin shards and turned blue.

“You’re paying for that, Wizard,” the bartender called.

Vincent looked into Franny’s disapproving eyes. He seemed shocked and concerned. “I swear I did not do that.”

A glass breaking on its own portended death.

“I’m telling you the truth,” Vincent said. “Death is close by. I’ve never felt anything like this. I can almost touch it. It’s like a black circle coming closer and closer.”

He reached his hand into the air, and when he opened his closed fist soot appeared in his palm.

“Ashes,” he said. “Franny, you have to listen to me.”

Franny felt a scrim of fear. Still, she approached his prediction logically. “Certainly, somewhere someone will die. It doesn’t necessarily have anything to do with us.” She grabbed her brother’s arm and shook it so that the ashes lifted into the air, where they turned white and scattered into the corners of the room. Then she used a napkin to gather the slivers of glass and brought the mess up to the bar. “He’s underage,” she told the bartender. “Don’t serve him again.”



They walked home together deep in thought. They didn’t hear the bees until they reached the corner. As they neared their house they could see swarms at every window.

They stopped where they were. Bees tried to get into a house when a death was imminent.

“I’ll have Mother call an exterminator,” Franny said.

Vincent was suddenly stone-cold sober. “It won’t make a difference. We can’t stop it.”

“Of course we can. You can change your fate.”

“Can you?”

They stepped closer to each other.

“Do you know who’s in danger?” Franny asked.

“I can’t tell. I don’t think it’s us, because we’re seeing the omen.”

They stood there, shoulders touching. Bees don’t swarm at night. Glass doesn’t break without a cause. Ashes do not fall from above. All the same, Franny still didn’t quite believe Vincent until they entered the front hallway. There on the threshold was a beetle.

“Fuck,” Vincent said. He went to stomp on the creature.

He knew what it was from his readings in The Magus, and he now advised Franny that deathwatch beetles are wood borers that can be heard in the rafters calling for mates. They signified a death. You cannot destroy destruction, The Magus warned. Though you may try. Vincent had gotten rid of the beetle, but not its message. You cannot unwrite a death that has been written. There was no spell strong enough to do so.

Franny went for a broom and a dustpan to dispose of the remnants of the beetle. Jet was in the kitchen. “What’s that?” she said when the creature was tossed in the trash.

“Something to avoid. From now on, no taking chances, no talking to strangers, no walking through the park at night.”

“I thought we were supposed to have courage?”

“Just for now. Don’t do anything out of the ordinary.”

It was decided that Franny would be the one to wait up and tell the parents. They had debated and, when it came down to it, they felt that the parents had to be told for their own protection. They’d been to a party at the new Guggenheim Museum and were tipsy upon their return.

“Amazing evening,” her father remarked. “That building is the future.”

“Speaking of the future,” Franny said, “I have information about our family I’d like to discuss with you.”

“You handle this,” Dr. Burke-Owens said to his wife. “It’s your family.”

Once he’d left the room, Franny turned to her mother. “There was an omen, and we need to pay heed.”

“Franny.” Their mother was exasperated. “Let’s not have any nonsense tonight. I don’t think I can take this any more than your father can.”

“I know you don’t want to believe in any of this, but there were bees swarming the house.”

“Fine. I’ll call an exterminator in the morning.”