She paused, contemplating how to proceed. “How much do you know about our family? And about Magic Side?”
I bit my lip. “Um, that it’s magic?”
She nodded, waiting for more. At least that suggested I wasn’t entirely delusional.
I shrugged. “I’m not even sure what that really means. I’ve seen…well, a lot of stuff floating around. To be honest, it’s a little hard to believe. I didn’t know that you or magic or this city existed until yesterday.”
“Yes, it’s clear that you are unfamiliar with the arcane arts. No one in their right mind would have willingly given their blood to me. Just putting your hand out practically proved you weren’t a charlatan.”
I raised my eyebrows. Practitioners of the dark arts. What could she have done?
Aunt Laurel took my wrist. “First lesson you need to learn: never give your blood to anyone. On any account. Ever.”
My gaze darted between her and Casey. “So…are you both like witches or wizards or something?”
“Wizards? Are you crazy?” Casey laughed and flopped down onto the other couch. “Wizards are lame. We’re fucking sorcerers. It’s awesome, pew, pew,” he said, making gun hands at the ceiling.
I raised an eyebrow. “Pew, pew?”
He lifted his hands, and a billowing ball of flame rocketed upward and dissipated just before it hit the ceiling.
I screamed and then slapped my hands over my mouth.
“Casey!” Aunt Laurel shouted. “Not in the house!”
Cousin Casey rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah, yeah. Remember the fire of 1871 and all that. But she needed to see something cool. Like, proof of awesomeness.” Turning back to me, he summed everything up like I was braindead, which didn’t feel far from the truth at the moment. “Mom’s a sorceress. I’m a sorcerer. We do magic. Maybe you can, too.”
My brain was still trying to catch up with the whole fireball thing, but slowly my thoughts forced their way through the shock and confusion.
“And my father, was he…?” I swallowed, my mouth parched.
Aunt Laurel laughed softly, as if suddenly touched by a long-forgotten memory. “Yes. Silas was a sorcerer. A very talented one too—though he was prone to mischief.” She glared at Casey. “That also runs in the family.”
My mind reeled like a child who’d spent too much time on a merry-go-round. My father was a sorcerer. He could do magic.
It was a preposterous thought on every level, but I’d just seen my cousin lob a fireball into the ceiling. Proof of awesomeness. That left a glaring question. “What about my mother?”
My aunt’s expression darkened, just for a moment, and then she gave me warm smile. “No. She wasn’t a sorceress—she didn’t have it in her blood. I’m sure you’re curious, but I’m afraid we only met her a few times.”
A little shadow passed over my heart, but I shook it off.
Aunt Laurel adjusted her dress and leaned forward. “Let’s not bury the lead though my dear. You can do magic. I can feel it in my bones.”
My breath caught as my stomach tumbled. The woman in the dream had told me to find out what I was. Was this the answer? That I was a sorceress? It was definitely a step up from waiting tables.
I looked at my hand’s wondering where the fireballs would come out. “How can you be certain?”
“It’s obvious.” Casey snarked. “You’d have to be blind not to see it.”
“What do you mean, obvious?”
He waved his hand to encompass all the room. “Everybody who can do magic has a unique signature. It’s something that tickles your senses. The more powerful you are, the more other people can feel. For instance, Mom always smells like nutmeg and sounds like bees. And a lot more when she shows off.”
I blinked. That checked out, bizarrely. “And do I have a signature?”
He nodded. “Yeah. It smells a little like sushi, tastes like garlic, and feels a bit like swimsuit rash.”
My jaw dropped in horror.