Tom was the first to speak. “Well…I can’t rightly say I understand this hocus pocus stuff you’re talkin’ about, but in this here family, we look out for one another. You and your momma do what you gotta do. Any fella thinks they can mess with us has got another think comin’.”
Lily was finally able to tear her gaze from the wall and dare a glance at her stepfather. He gave her an encouraging nod and reached across the table to rest his large, calloused hands on top of her’s and Freda’s. Dru and Sally both reached forward to join him, murmuring words of solidarity. Becca, however, leaned back in her chair, incredulity written all over her face. Lily looked to her left, expecting to see excitement on Jamie’s face. She was surprised to see his brow furrowed in hurt and disappointment as he looked back and forth between her and Freda. Finally he fixed his gaze on his mother.
“Prove it,” he said sharply.
Though she’d been expecting a demand for a demonstration, Lily’s mind still scrambled to think of an appropriate spell. Most spells, contrary to how they were portrayed in mundane pop culture, were not flashy. Though she could “see” magic, so to speak, in her mind’s eye, it wasn’t visible to mundanes. Much like electricity, gravity, or magnetism, the only visible aspect of magic was the effect it had on the world around them. She glanced at Freda, who had the same deer-in-the-headlights look she imagined was on her own face.
Casting around desperately, she finally spotted a sheet of aluminum foil left over from supper preparation. That would work. Aluminum was the easiest metal to manipulate, as it was the most conductive to magic. She retrieved it, laying it on the table and sitting back down to calm her mind, forcing herself to breathe evenly as she considered the words of power she would need to complete the spell. When she was ready, she started speaking that ancient tongue, using words and will to shape the magic as it compressed the foil, looking for all the world as if an invisible fist were crushing it into a ball.
Everyone but Freda jumped in shock. Becca actually jerked back so hard she capsized, her chair making a raucous clatter as it made contact with the worn wooden floor. She quickly picked herself back up, swearing in colorful southern fashion.
Ignoring her stepsister, Lily focused on her spell. The foil crackled as it shrank, and Lily felt the tingle of energy coursing through her as she concentrated on the trickiest part. Instead of simply crushing it into a rough ball, she spoke again, upping the pressure and adding heat as she crafted her tennis ball-sized lump of crumpled foil into a marble-sized ball of solid aluminum. The air grew cool around them—the heat had to come from somewhere—and finally it was finished. As she ended the spell and cut the flow of magic, the aluminum marble dropped to the table with a clink and rolled toward the edge, toward Jamie.
To Lily’s surprise, he scrambled back, eyes wide with disbelief. She couldn’t understand why he seemed so startled when, before, he’d been hanging on their every word as if he already knew what was coming. Whatever the reason, he shot her a bewildered look, then took off out the front door. Freda called after him and made to follow, but Tom put a hand on her arm.
“Let him go, Mary.”
Freda smiled weakly at him. “Well, Freda LeFay, legally, but I guess we’ll stick with Mary Singer for now.”
“You’ll always be my Mary,” he said, standing to wrap her in his arms.
“This is just freaky. I can’t do this. You’re all freaks,” Becca declared shakily, and headed upstairs.
Dru and Sally exchanged looks. While they appeared as shocked as everyone else, they seemed to be taking the news a bit more calmly. With a nod from their father, Sally rose and headed after Becca, while Dru got up and started for the front door.
“No, I’ll go.” Lily said, rising abruptly. She didn’t know why, but somehow she knew she had to talk to Jamie, alone.
Dru shrugged and stepped aside as Lily headed out the door, scooping up the still-warm aluminum marble as she went. She knew exactly where Jamie had gone.
The farmyard barn was a piece of history, as old as the farmhouse itself. Its boards were weathered grey with age and the tin roof was brown with rust. Back when her stepfather was a mere boy and his father and grandfather ran the farm, they’d had a few head of cattle, goats, and some horses. Thus the hayloft had been full of old-fashioned square bales: hay for fodder and straw for bedding. Nowadays the barn was used more for equipment storage, but some of the bales remained, slowly disintegrating as they sat, unused. Well, unused for farming. It was the perfect play place for enterprising children, and her stepsiblings had spent many an hour building straw forts and otherwise getting covered in the stuff. She’d preferred to watch from afar—straw dust was a nightmare to get out of your hair. But in the cool of the evenings, when the barn was empty and quiet, she loved to climb up and sit in the open hay door where long ago they’d loaded bales into the loft. With feet dangling over empty air, she would read her books and watch the sun sink behind the green hills. Once he was old enough to climb the wooden ladder to the loft, Jamie had often joined her, and it had become their special place.
Seven years later, she climbed the loft ladder once again, hands automatically finding its worn rungs in the semi-dark of the old barn. It smelled just as she remembered: musty and dry with a hint of motor oil. As her head crested the lip of the loft floor, she could see Jamie’s hunched shape in the open hay door, silhouetted by the setting sun. Moving quietly, she completed her climb and headed toward him, loose straw shifting softly beneath her feet. Jamie didn’t turn as she approached, and she hesitated behind him, building up the nerve to sit down.
“You know, it was never the same after you left.” Jamie’s voice was low, and he didn’t turn to face her.
Lily sighed and finally sat, leaving a few inches of space between herself and her half-brother. Not sure what to say, she remained silent, staring at the crimson sky.
“The others picked on me more without you there to tell them off, ’specially Becca. I never really fit in. It wouldn’t have been so bad if you’d just come back once in a while. But you never called, never visited. You didn’t even return my letters. It was like you didn’t love me anymore.” He still didn’t look at her, but his words were filled with a bitterness that sent stabs of guilt straight to her heart. She wanted to protest, explain that she hadn’t realized the envelopes addressed in her mother’s handwriting had contained letters from him—she’d taken one look at the handwriting and thrown them in the trash, unopened.
“It hurt for a while. I kept asking mom why you didn’t come back, but she would never give me a straight answer. Finally I stopped trying. I thought maybe I’d done somethin’ wrong, been a bad brother. But finally I realized you were just a selfish jerk who didn’t care enough about her family to give a darn what they felt.” He finally turned toward her, eyes burning.
She opened her mouth to defend herself, then shut it again, looking away. He was right. Not that she would have admitted that several years ago, or even a few months ago. But now, in light of recent events, her shortcomings crowded in, burning with the same accusation that was in Jamie’s eyes.
Closing her own eyes, as if to shut out the accusing stares, she steeled herself to do what she should have done years ago.
“You’re right, I was a selfish jerk,” Lily finally croaked, forcing the words out of reluctant lips. Daring a glance to the side, she saw a flicker of surprise on Jamie’s face. That brief softening of expression gave her the courage to continue. “I was an absolute butt-head to you and the others, and I’m sorry. But please, don’t think it was because I didn’t care. I was just so angry, and hurt, and stubborn, and a little afraid, too.” The words started spilling out, and she let them. “I thought about you all the time, in the beginning, but I tried to suppress my feelings and stay as far away as possible to take revenge on Mother.” Lily looked down, feeling a flush of shame as she realized how petty her words sounded. But she had to explain. “You know how Mother would never talk about the past? About
who my father was? Well it hurt more than I realized, and, after I left, I just wanted her to know what it felt like to be kept in the dark. I’m sorry. I was too focused on my own feelings to consider how my actions must have affected the rest of the family.
“And then…well, then I found out I was a…a wizard. I thought if I came back Mother would yell at me for finding out what she’d been hiding all this time. I thought it would just be easier for everyone if I stayed away.” She glanced up and saw her brother’s eyes flash with the same intense curiosity he’d shown at the dinner table. But he quickly hid it and returned to scowling, obviously not done being mad at her.
“Easier for you, maybe,” he growled. “Did it ever cross your mind that I might want to know too? I am the only one in this family besides Mom who’s actually related to you.”
“No,” Lily replied, honestly. “I never imagined you would…” she trailed off, distracted by the sudden realization that she could see his magic. The aura was subtle, which was why she hadn’t been able to pin it down before. But now that she knew what to look for, she kept catching glimpses of it. It wasn’t the blaze of her father, nor the soft glow of her mother, nor the cloaked majesty of her mentor. It was faint and ethereal, like the shimmer of heat in summer that shivered in the currents of hot air rising from the ground. She wondered how her own magic appeared to him, or if he could even sense it, untrained as he was.
Though he still scowled stubbornly, his expression began to soften around the edges as she finally met his gaze, staring as intently at him as he had at her not hours before.
“When did you…” she began hesitantly.
“About a year ago. At least, that’s when I started noticing it as more than just a vague, undefinable feeling.”
“Like an—”
“—itch in your soul,” he finished for her. “Yeah. Like you know you can do more, but you have no idea what it is.”
“And the blur?” Lily asked, fascinated.
“Like you have something in your eye, but only when you look at certain things?” Jamie nodded.
“Did you ever guess?” Lily was curious. She’d had no idea, just a feeling of difference, a restlessness that had driven her to seek answers.
Jamie considered for a moment, scowl lines now replaced with a thoughtful scrunch of the brow. “Not really. Not magic. But I knew something was up, what with the way you left and Mom acting like a clam. But now you’re back, and it’s all out. You can teach me, show me. I want to know everything.” The excited light was back now, and he leaned toward her, eagerness written in every line of his body.
Lily hesitated, unsure. “I don’t know if I’m the one who should explain things. I’ve never taught magic, and I’ve only been studying it for seven years. In any case, I’m leaving tomorrow, as soon as we’re done with the wards. I’m sure Mother will show you.”
“What?” Jamie exclaimed, looking hurt. “Leaving? You can’t leave. You just got back!”
“I’m sorry.” She shrugged helplessly. “I have a job, not to mention a psychotic father to deal with.”
He leaned forward, eager once more. “Then let me come with you. You can teach me on the way. I can help!”
“No. Absolutely not,” Lily said. “You’re too young. And you don’t learn magic ‘on the way.’ It takes years of study to even do your first spell. Plus, it’s dangerous. Magic can kill you if you don’t do it right, and the further you stay away from John Faust, the better.”
“That’s not fair!” Jamie protested. “I want to help. I want to go with you. Anyway, you can’t just waltz in here, tell me I’m a wizard, then leave!”
She hadn’t done anything of the sort, but decided it wouldn’t help to point that out. “Look, I know it doesn’t seem like it, but Mother is just as good a wizard as I am and can teach you everything you need to know.” That wasn’t quite true, but the things Freda couldn’t teach him were years ahead in his magical education anyway. “I’ll make sure she promises to teach you before I leave. The only reason she kept everything a secret before was to protect our family from John Faust. But there’s no need for that anymore. She’ll open up now.”
“But…but I just got you back,” Jamie whispered, a desperate look in his eyes. It was suddenly as if the past seven years had never happened and he was eight again, begging her not to leave. Something squeezed her heart and she felt moisture gather in the corners of her eyes. Scooting closer, she wrapped her little brother in a tentative hug, unsure at first, but gripping more tightly as he leaned in and hugged her back.
“I’m sorry,” she murmured into his hair. “I promise I’ll come back this time. And I’ll give you my phone number. You can call any time you want.”
He snorted, now pushing back against the hug. “Hey, it’s not like I need to talk or anything mushy like that. I just want to learn magic. What do you think I am, sensitive?” He stuck out his tongue at her, a teasing twinkle in his eye.
“Ah, yes, now I remember,” she drawled back. “You’re a teenager. Heaven forbid you have a meaningful relationship with your sister. You’d lose all your hard-earned street cred for sure.”
“Something like that.” Jamie grinned and stood up. “You coming?”
“In a little while.” Lily said. “I want to enjoy the sunset, and the memories.”
Jamie nodded, but as he turned to go Lily stopped him with a gesture. Getting up, she took his hand and dropped the aluminum ball into it, closing his fingers around it. “Don’t fool yourself with silly fantasies. Magic is glorious and terrifying in equal measures. It’s dangerous and difficult to control and can do just as much damage as good. Which one it does is up to you. Be careful, little brother.”
Eyes shining in the near darkness, he nodded. “I will,” he said, then turned and climbed down the ladder to the dirt-covered floor below.
2
The Supreme Art of War
It was fully dark before Lily finally groped her way down the loft ladder and headed back to the house.
Once outside the barn she could see a little better—the stars were bright above and patches of light spilled out from the farmhouse windows. She was just crossing the barnyard, contemplating the evening’s events, when a dark streak shot out from some bushes and charged straight at her. A cry of surprise was halfway to her lips before she realized the streak was Sir Kipling, the white tip of his fluffy tail bobbing with every stride. He skidded to a halt by her feet, back arched and fur standing on end as he gazed toward the house, ignoring her presence.
“Sir Edgar Allan Kipling, you are an absolute terror! Don’t scare me like that.” Lily scolded.
“What? Oh, sorry. I was just, you know, practicing.” He sat down, now completely at ease, and started cleaning himself.
Lily sighed but couldn’t help smiling. She’d read somewhere that a house cat’s habit of randomly racing from room to room was how they exercised and practiced hunting. It made sense, then, that Sir Kipling would need practice. Before his transformation to a talking cat, the largest thing he’d ever hunted was a moth.
With an inward grin at the picture, she bent down and picked up her ferocious hunter.
“Unhand me, woman!” he yowled, struggling.
“Kip,” Lily said, a warning growl in her throat. “If you scratch me you will not live to regret it. I’m taking you inside. The dogs will make less of a fuss if I’m carrying you. Now sit still. Or else.”
He quieted, though not without protest. “Humph! I’m not worried about the mongrels. They’ve been shown their place. It’s the simple indignity of it. As if I couldn’t walk on my own four legs.”
Lily rolled her eyes. “I’m sure you’ll recover. Wait, what do you mean they’ve been shown their place? What did you do to them?” They had been unusually quiet.
“Nothing permanent,” Sir Kipling said airily.
Apprehensive, Lily looked for the dogs as they approached the house. She could see their ropes still tied to the railing, but the dogs were now
here in sight. Following the line of the ropes in the semi-dark, she saw that they curled around the edge of the porch, low to the ground, and then disappeared…
“Kip, why are the dogs hiding under the porch?” she asked accusingly as she mounted the steps.
“How should I know? Am I their keeper?” Her cat took no pains to hide his smug look, even as he protested his innocence.
Shaking her head, Lily entered the house. “It’s a good thing we’re only staying one night.”
With the extra supplies and prefabricated wards Madam Barrington had provided, it took less time to outfit the house than Lily had feared. Even so, they were constantly interrupted by various family members, not to mention the dogs. Every half hour or so they would go into a barking frenzy, pulling and tugging at their ropes. After ensuring Sir Kipling was snoozing safely upstairs, Lily finally untied them so they could run off after whatever varmint they were so eager to catch and give her and Freda some peace and quiet. They made a beeline for a large white oak at the edge of the yard, circling its trunk and barking up at its branches.
Worse than the dogs, of course, was Jamie. He got into everything, asking question after question, looking over their shoulders, interrupting their concentration. Freda had to banish him to his room. He went, but only after Lily made their mother promise to teach him magic.
By that evening, she and Freda had finished their spell casting, including personal wards for each of the family members. These they strung on cords for everyone to wear around their necks. It took threats from both Freda and Tom before Becca would wear hers. Even then she looped it around her wrist like a bracelet instead of around her neck, grumbling about how dorky it looked and shooting them baleful looks. While the wards wouldn’t hold up against any serious magical attack, they would provide enough of a buffer and early warning for them to get help should John Faust appear with malicious intent.
Love, Lies, and Hocus Pocus Allies Page 3
