by Martha Carr
Laura blinked, eyed the mess of armor wrapped in curtains and iron string, and glanced at Emily. “If the Gorafrex’s host gets wrapped up like that, it should weaken it enough that the thing can’t fly away again and go looking for someone else to use. It might actually…” She sighed. “Okay, fine. It’s a decent plan.”
“Yes!”
“But I’m not a fan of what that thing might do to the human host. You have to keep practicing.” She pointed at Emily. “Find out how to control that thing to keep it from doing any real damage we might not be able to heal.”
“Already on my schedule.”
“And I really don’t wanna hear about—”
“Em?” Nickie stood from the reclining stadium chair and peered at the stage. “What’s on your hands?”
Emily glanced at her hands and opened them. The end of the iron string dropped to the stage with a metallic whisper. “Oh, wow.” She chuckled. “Yeah, that’s blood.”
“What?” Laura hurried toward the stage and craned her neck up at her sister. “Let me see.”
“Um…” Emily took a hesitant step sideways, trying to avoid the drops of blood she only now noticed trailing across the stage. Then she squatted in front of Laura and held out her hands, still wearing that goofy smile of disbelief. “Honestly, I didn’t even feel it.”
“Oh, my god.” Laura held the backs of her sister’s hands and studied the slashing lines across Emily’s palms where the iron string had cut her deep. She shot out her hand toward the open trunk stuffed with clothing, and her silver legacy ring took it from there. A yellowed square of fabric shot from the trunk toward Laura’s outstretched hand. She snatched it from the air and gently dabbed at the cuts on her sister’s palms.
Emily looked at her. “Now who’s ruining family heirlooms?”
Laura glanced up, then shook her head. “It’s a handkerchief.”
Nickie joined them and took a long breath. “Jeeze, Em. You’re a mess.”
“It’s just blood.” Emily shrugged. “Really, it doesn’t even hurt.”
“Well, it will. Just give it a min—” The words were strangled in Nickie’s throat when a tiny stream of purple bubbles flew from her mouth. She clamped her jaw shut and scowled at the stream of healing magic heading for Emily’s hands. “I really—” Another wave of bubbles sprang from her mouth, and Emily laughed at both her older sisters’ irritation—and at the purple bubbles tickling her hands.
All three of them watched the deep cuts stitch together on Emily’s skin until all that remained were the barest hint of lines across her palms. They were a darker pink than the rest of her hands and a little shiny with new skin, but they didn’t even feel tight when she gave an experimental flex. “Thank you very much.” Emily dipped her head matter-of-factly and grinned.
Nickie opened her mouth to test it. When no bubbles emerged, she scoffed. “I’m all for using Peabrain magic when it’s the right fit. Which that obviously was. But come on? My mouth?”
Emily shrugged. “Maybe it’s to keep the healer from annoying and berating the person needing the healing. A quick recovery needs a lot of peace and quiet, right?”
For a few seconds, her sisters stared in mute surprise. Laura giggled, and when she couldn’t hold it back, it grew into uncontrollable laughter that overwhelmed her until she had to brace against the edge of the stage. “You… you…” Without lifting her head, she jerked a finger toward Nickie and kept laughing.
Nickie squinted and folded her arms. “Very funny.”
Emily laughed and nodded at Laura. “The very serious professor seems to think so.”
Laura took a few breaths and blew them out. Still chuckling, she wiped her eyes and lifted her head. “Is that what you call me? The very serious professor?”
Humming and glancing at the high basement ceiling, Emily pretended to think about it. “Only your good days.”
Laura found this only slightly less funny than the remark about healing, but she pulled herself together. “Do I wanna know what you call me on bad days?”
“Probably not.”
Nickie snorted, and Laura dipped her head in acknowledgment. “Fair enough.”
Emily spread her arms and glanced at the stage floor and behind her. “Man, that was a lot of blood.” She plucked the stained handkerchief from Laura’s hand and got to work cleaning it all up. “That’s one of the kinks, I think. Figuring out how to not slice up my hands every time I get jerked around by that thing.”
“Yeah, I doubt the Gorafrex inside a human’s body is gonna stay as still as that armor,” Nickie said.
“I did have an incredibly willing volunteer, didn’t I?” Emily laughed as she wiped more blood spatter off the stage.
19
Nickie sprawled across the length of the couch in the living room, a foot dangling over the cushion and onto the floor. She finger-picked a simple tune on her acoustic, enjoying the sunlight spilling through the old house’s huge bay windows, yet the sun never made the room uncomfortably hot. “Magical AC. I am so down.”
She played a little more and caught the scent of the spatchcock chicken in the oven—lemon and garlic and olive oil. “So really, Em,” she called through the mudroom without getting up. “You spend as much time as you do in the kitchen at Meadowlark, and you still wanna cook for us on your day off?”
Emily bent down beside the stove to sneak a glance at the pan of chicken inside. “Technically, it’s not my day off. I told you guys I switched around my shifts for what I thought was gonna be the three of us going to see the Engineer today…”
“I get it, okay?” Laura sat at the kitchen table, reading through the Peabrain spellbook from her former colleague admirer. “I won’t go off on my own anymore when we plan to do something together.” She tilted her head at the book. Doesn’t mean I can’t ever go off on my own. “Hey, but it’s a good thing I moved the timeline up, right? You had today off to come bash up that energy core with us and figure out how to use that metal yo-yo.”
Emily straightened and slapped a hand down on the counter. “In no way whatsoever should we call that thing a yo-yo.”
Looking up from the spellbook, Laura raised an eyebrow. “Okay, then. What do you call it?”
“I…am still working on that part.” The Meadowlark Tavern’s young commis chef turned around and grabbed three plates from the cabinet. “Oh, Nickie…come and get it…”
The soft guitar music in the other room stopped.
Laura chuckled. “I get dinner, too, right?”
“Yeah, but you’re sitting right behind me. Come on.” On went the oven mitt, and she pulled the pan of chicken out and set it on top of the stove.
“Wow.” Laura closed the spellbook. “That smells amazing.”
“I know. Oh. Almost forgot.” Emily took the lid off the sauté pan, set it aside, then took two steps sideways and tugged on the long, magical conveyor belt that was her spice rack. The various bottles, jars, and sealed packages flipped past her like a larger-than-life rolodex. When the spice jars reached the end of the counter, they disappeared into the wall and didn’t stop until Emily pointed. She grabbed an unlabeled jar of red powder with flecks of purple in it and unscrewed the lid.
“What’s that?” Laura asked.
“Secret ingredient.”
“What? Come on, just tell me.”
“It’s magic, Laura, okay?” Emily tapped a bit into the sauté pan, then dusted it over the chicken. “That’s like asking a magician how they do their tricks before you even watch the show.”
“Okay, real magic is actually a thing though. It’s a little weird comparing your cooking to what magicians do.”
Nickie stepped into the kitchen and ran a hand through her dark-brown hair. “You know, I bet you anything there’s a wizard or witch out there who performs as a stage magician and hopes nobody notices the difference.”
Laura frowned. “Why would anyone wanna do that?”
“Easiest job in the world.” Nickie shrugged and
went to pull them each a set of silverware from the drawer.
“Except your entire career is based on a lie about not lying about magic.”
Emily chuckled. “Say what?”
“Everyone knows magicians do tricks. Even if they can’t explain how those tricks are performed, it’s pretty cut and dried across the board; there is no actual magic in those performances. A magical trying to pull off being a magician with fake magic is gonna spend their entire career knowing everyone thinks it’s fake when it’s actually real.”
Nickie blinked. “That made me a little dizzy.”
Laura scoffed. “You’d have to pretend to be a fake, and you could never claim credit for knowing real magic.”
“Oh…” Emily nodded as she plated up three equal portions of chicken and sauce and a few slices of lemon. “That makes sense coming from you.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Laura, not everybody’s as dedicated as you are to following the rules,” she turned and made air quotes, “and earning accolades and being credited for things they’re passionate about.”
Nickie glanced at the sautéed veggies as Emily scooped them onto their plates, then brought the silverware to the table. “Some people like to take the easy road. If they’re good at being a magician ‘cause they can actually use magic for real, and they’re getting paid for it, why worry about what the rest of the world thinks? It’s not like this hypothetical magician wouldn’t be able to use magic at all if they had to pick a different job.”
The oldest Hadstrom sister reclined and shook her head. “I still think it’s a cheap way to make a living.”
Emily stepped toward the table with two plates balanced on one arm and the third in her other hand. “Okay, so explain what we do, then.”
“What? We’re not talking about us.”
“Well, we kind of are, though.” Nickie reached up to take the first plate from Emily with a grin. “How are any of us any different than this hypothetical magical who decided to become a performing magician?”
“I mean, none of us are magicians.”
Emily snorted, set the other two plates on the table, and sat. “No, but it’s definitely the same thing. You’re an archaeologist first. Yeah, and a professor—still totally weird to say—but you do what you do for a reason. You’ve always had creepy skills with magical artifacts, right? I dunno, maybe your magic blends with theirs better than most or whatever. But you used that to pick your job.”
“My career.” Laura blinked and picked up her fork. “And I went to college and studied and worked my butt off for my PhD like everybody else who has one. I can prove it.”
“Yeah, we know.” Nickie set to work cutting up her chicken. “You’ve probably got an entire wall with all your degrees and awards and certifications framed perfectly and hung all in a straight, neat little row for everyone to see.”
Laura paused and stared at her, lips pressed together. “Have you been in my room?”
“No, Laura. I have no desire to spend hours and hours trying to undo your wards so I can sneak around and read your archaeology professor journal.”
Emily choked on her first bite and tried to hide her laughter with a quick series of coughs. “Yeah, maybe Laura’s not such a great example for making my point.”
“So then let’s talk about what I do.” Nickie tipped her fork toward Emily, chewing slowly. “This is amazing. What are these?”
“Kale, shaved carrots, thinly sliced leeks…”
“And a secret ingredient.” Laura exaggerated the mystery of it with wide eyes, leaning over the table toward them.
“Nope. I’m not telling. Nickie, please continue proving my point.”
“Right.” Nickie grinned and kept eating. “I’m a full-time musician. Okay, maybe not full-time yet, but I get paid pretty well for gigs, and that holds me over until the next one. Or until a big break. Oh, which might actually be happening soon, by the way.”
“Really?” Laura swallowed her mouthful. “What’s going on?”
“I’ll tell you that in a sec. What I was gonna say is that being a musician is my job. Yes. And I absolutely love it, hands down.”
“Good. You should.” Laura nodded. “You’re ridiculously talented, and everybody sees it.”
“Right, but that’s what I’m trying to get at here. I don’t even know how much of that talent is talent in the traditional sense, or how much of it comes from my own magic. I just don’t know. Only that it makes me a better musician.”
“Like whether you’d still be the new Queen of Blues without your magic or just some hack plucking at a couple strings.” Emily nodded.
“Well…yeah. I guess.” Nickie laughed. “If we’re gonna be that blunt about it.”
“But Nickie’s not using her magic to make people think she’s an awful musician,” Laura added. “That’s what I’m saying.”
“No, but she is using her magic to help her get to a place some people reach without any magic at all.” Emily shrugged. “Not a lot, but some. And nobody knows about that part.”
“Honestly, I wouldn’t even know how to try separating them to find out. But that’s what Emily’s saying, Laura. Like this hypothetical magician, we’re all working with our magic in a way that makes us good at what we love to do, right? Or maybe we love it because of our magic. Either way, just like this magician who may or may not exist, we’re witches, and we have jobs, and this is just one more way for us to blend in. ‘Cause we have to.”
“And in the end”—Emily spread her arms and grinned—“it doesn’t even matter!” She laughed and attacked her chicken again.
Laura glanced between her sisters and frowned. “I get what you’re saying. But using real magic to make everyone think you’re amazing at using fake magic feels too much like cheating.” A little shiver ran down her spine, and she shook her head. “Just talking about it makes me shiver.”
Emily’s fork clattered onto her plate when she threw her head back and laughed. “That really got to you, didn’t it?”
Nickie chuckled, watching her older sister, and took another bite.
“All right, fine.” Laura shook her head. “It got to me. Time to change the subject.”
Nickie eyed her sideways for a moment, pretending to focus on her food rather than watching for Laura’s reaction when she said, “We could talk about who called you earlier when Chuck was over.”
Laura froze with her fork in her mouth. Both sisters watched her with wide eyes, waiting for her to chew, swallow, and come up with something to say. “What do you mean?”
“What does she mean?” Emily slapped a hand down on the table. “You’re startin’ to sound like Gilroy.” She puffed out her chest and stuck out her bottom lip, frowning in her imitation of the snarky talking bust in their house who only answered what he deemed to be asked in the perfectly correct way. “Rephrase the question, witch. I don’t speak idiot.”
“Hey, she never actually asked me a question.” Laura gestured at Nickie, who had to cover her mouth to keep her last bite of chicken from falling out.
“You’re deflecting, so I’ll rephrase for her,” Emily said. “Who called you earlier when Chuck was over?”
“I don’t have to answer that.”
“No, but you want to, don’t you?” Nickie wiggled her eyebrows and stuck out her tongue. “Here, lemme help. I remember hearing the name Nathan in there somewhere.”
“Ooh, Nathan.” Emily shoved a forkful of vegetables into her mouth. “Who’s Nathan?”
“You guys…”
“And why are you hiding him from us?” Nickie added.
“Oh, my god. Fine. He’s the physics professor who moved into the empty office across the hall.”
“Oh, nice.” Emily bobbed her head and added in a teasing, singsong voice, “The physics professor called you on the phone.” Her brow then furrowed. “Wait…the dwarf?”
“What?”
“Short, magical dudes with long beards who live unde
rground?”
Nickie chuckled. “Well, not when they’re teaching college-level physics.”
“That doesn’t make sense.” Emily shook a finger at her oldest sister. “Were you lying about not being into short guys?”
“Okay. Stop.” Laura dropped her fork, sat back, and raised her hands in surrender. “I wasn’t gonna tell you guys because I knew you’d do this.”
“Oh, come on. We’ve never done this before.” Nickie reached out and gave Laura’s shoulder a little pat.
“It took twenty-seven years, but our big sister is finally getting phone calls from boys.” Emily blinked. “Men. Dwarf men.”
Laura sighed and closed her eyes. “It’s not that big of a deal, and there’s nothing going on.”
“So why did he call you?” Nickie shook her sister’s shoulder this time. “Huh? What’d he have to say?”
After enough jostling, Laura finally cracked a smile. She jerked her shoulder out of Nickie’s grasp just the same. “He called to ask me to a party…”
“Yes!” Emily pumped a fist. “And you told him yes, right?”
“No, I told him I’d think about it.”
“And then you’re gonna tell him yes.”
“I don’t know, Em, okay? I’m still thinking.”
Nickie burst out laughing and pushed Laura’s shoulder one more time. “You’re blushing.”
“Cut it out.”
“When’s the party?” Emily dropped her elbows on the table, rested her chin on her interlaced fingers, and batted her eyelashes.
“Tomorrow.”
“A Sunday-night party, huh?” Nickie winked. “Good thing it’s summer.”
20
“I don’t know about you guys,” Laura said as she slid the last plate into the dishwasher and pushed it closed, “but I’m ready to pass out.”
“You’re actually going to bed, though, right?” Emily stuffed the new trash liner into the trashcan and dusted off her hands. “Like, you’re not gonna go running around trying to destroy all these energy cores by yourself now that we know how to do it?”
