“Uh.” Cecily tried to think of a lie, but she couldn’t. “Um…”
His expression shifted from curiosity to disgust. “Cecily, are these—bug wings?”
Tell him the truth.
“Yes.” Flushed with daring, Cecily added, “They’re moth wings for magic spells.”
Dad stared at her. “What?”
“Cecily, don’t tease your father.” Her mother stepped into Cecily’s bedroom and briskly took the jar. “Simon, these are soap flakes. Bubble bath. They make them look like moth wings and eye of newt and all that sort of magical stuff now. I think it’s some Harry Potter thing.”
“Harry Potter.” Dad chuckled. “Those merchandising guys don’t miss a trick, do they?”
Mom tucked the jar back into the suitcase and shot her daughter a warning look. But her voice was cheery as she said, “Let’s hurry up, guys. We should leave for the airport in about fifteen minutes. Sweetheart, would you check on Theo? The last time I saw him, he was trying to sneak Pudge into his carry-on.”
“For Christ’s sake.” Dad started down the hall. “All we need is for the Department of Homeland Security to detain us because of the hamster.”
As soon as her father was out of earshot, her mother muttered, “Do we have to have this talk again?”
“I’m really sorry I endangered all our lives.” Cecily tossed her hair melodramatically, clutching her hands in front of her chest like a silent-movie heroine. “What if Dad tries to have us burned at the stake? Whatever shall we do?”
“Load your bag in the car, all right? And don’t even think about pulling a stunt like that once we get to North Carolina. The others aren’t going to cut you as much slack as I do.”
Her mother hurried off, unbothered by the latest in their many tiffs on this subject. But Cecily felt angry with herself for making a joke of it instead of trying to talk this through.
Usually she tried hard to respect the rules of the Craft, rules Cecily had memorized before she’d turned eight years old. Most of the rules were sensible—the necessary reins on the incredible powers that they worked with. The fact that she knew those rules backward and forward was one reason that she was already a fine witch.
In Cecily’s opinion there was another reason. She didn’t only memorize the rules; she pushed herself to understand the reasons behind them. For instance, it was one thing to know that the Craft forbade witches to use their powers to undermine the wills of others; it was another to understand why that was wrong and how misusing the powers that way would corrode both your ability and your soul.
Yet there was one rule Cecily could never understand, the oldest of them all: No man may know the truth behind the Craft.
Dad—who knew nothing about the single most important thing in the lives of his wife and his daughter—called, “We’ve got to drop Pudge off at the O’Farrells and get to the airport within one hour. Unless nobody wants to go to the beach house this year!”
IA GRAY
Part One
VACATION CHECKLIST
sundress
sandals
black bikini in case I am feeling brave
purple one-piece in case I am being chicken
stovetop autoclave
sunglasses
crushed clamshell
snake venom
moth wings
iPod