“You told me she performed magic,” David says pointedly, and Julia bows her head, all too interested in the donut on the plate in front of her.
“She did,” Ethan goes on, leaning forward. “But she didn’t know what she was doing.”
“Is that true?” David asks me. “You weren’t able to do magic before?”
“Well, I never really tried,” I reply.
“You’ve had no inkling that you could possibly be able to do magic?” David closes the book he’d been leafing through and stares me down.
“No,” I say back, standing my ground. “Though I suppose I’ve been really lucky more times than once. Like, I’ll really want to hear a certain song on the radio, and I’ll randomly choose a station and it will be on. Or if I forgot to do a homework assignment, the due date would get pushed back. And other little things like that…I never really thought about it much, but now that I am…there are lots of things that statistically can’t be pure luck.”
“You were casting spells without actually meaning to,” Julia says quietly.
“I guess.” I turn to Ethan, expecting him to share my excitement, but he avoids my eye contact all together. A weird feeling starts to take over, and I wish I brought Hunter with me. It’s the tale-tell sign of being antisocial when you wish you brought your dog, I know.
“Is that the book?” David asks pointing to my Book of Shadows. He leans forward, curiously staring at the book, and then reaches out and apprehensively touches it, almost as if he’s afraid it will give him a shock when his fingers make contact. “May I?” he asks me.
“Sure.” I slide the book to him.
“Ethan mentioned something about a great-aunt?” he asks and turns a page in the Book of Shadows.
“Yes…my great-aunt Estelle died and left me all of her possessions. That’s how I got the book.”
“She’s the root of this,” Ethan says. “The demons attacked Anora the day after her aunt died.”
“I think so too. I just…I don’t know how.” I look at Ethan again, wondering if he’s going to tell his family about my missing memories—he doesn’t.
“The book hasn’t been in your possession long then, correct?” David asks.
“Correct. I’ve been slowly going through it, trying to read everything, but the handwriting isn’t the easiest and some of it is worded weird.”
“It’s Old English,” David says without looking up.
“Are spells usually written that way?” I ask.
“Not anymore. This book is older than you think. Books like this have preservation spells cast on them.”
David closes the book and slides it in front of me. I put my hand on its surface, feeling an odd affection for it. This book has been in the Fowler family line for who-knows how long. The floor creaks behind us, and I whirl around, still on edge.
Sam, Ethan’s younger sister makes her way into the kitchen.
“It’s about time you join us,” Julia mumbles. “Must be nice to sleep in.”
“Oh, shut up. I was tired from patrolling all night.” She stops behind Ethan’s chair and puts a hand on his shoulder. “Who is this?” She looks at me.
“That’s Anora,” Ethan says dryly. “You met her yesterday.”
“Right. The girl who was wearing your shirt—and only your shirt—in the living room.”
“I had underwear on,” I quickly add and then wish I could take my words back. “But, um, hi.”
“What, no dog this time?” Sam forces a laugh. “I was looking forward to brushing dog fur off my clothes again.”
Ethan gives her a what the fuck look. “Anora’s dog, Hunter, killed a Pricolici,” he reminds her. “And he’s at her house.”
“Is that where you were last night?”
“Sit,” David orders, giving her the side-eye.
“What are you guys doing?” Sam opens the box of donuts and takes the last glazed donut.
“You would know if you hadn’t gone and hid in your room,” David mumbles with a bit of fatherly annoyance in his voice.
“I was tired. I just woke up,” Sam says one more time. She doesn’t look like someone who has just gotten out of bed. Her hair is tidy and in place, and her makeup looks freshly applied. It makes me feel a little self-conscious since my hair is messy and my makeup took me only five minutes.
“Let me sum this up,” Sam says after Ethan fills her in. “She’s in danger that she probably brought on herself and we’re expected to save her?”
“What is your problem?” Ethan asks.
“My problem?” Sam starts with a huff. “My problem is we’re dealing with a witch.” Her eyes narrow as she looks at me. “What coven do you belong to?”
“I don’t belong to any coven,” I tell her, refusing to waver. I don’t know what her deal is, but I’ve done nothing wrong.
“But you’re a witch,” Sam goes on, as if that’s an offense.
“If she is,” David says, eyeing Sam with contempt, “then she very well may be the last kin of her coven.”