“Yes, he’s got wings.”
“And…fire?” I answer my own question. “Of course he does. With a name like Flint, how could he not?”
My brain is imploding. I can feel it actually turning to mush and folding in on itself under the weight of all this new information. I mean, who needs LSD when you go to Monster High?
Even worse, something tells me we aren’t done yet. Which is probably what leads me to snark, “And that makes you what? A fairy?”
“I’m not a fairy.” She sounds insulted.
“Not a fairy, not a vampire, not a…dragon?”
Macy sighs. “I’m a witch, Grace.”
I run her words back through my head another time or five, but still. They make the least amount of sense of anything I’ve heard this afternoon. “I’m sorry?”
“You heard me.” Now she’s smirking at me. “And you want to know something else?”
“At this point, no. I don’t. Not even a little bit. I’m done. My brain is—”
“You should have been one, too.”
40
Be Careful
What You Witch For
Her words go off like a bomb inside me. They can’t be right—she can’t be right. I mean, the whole idea is absurd.
“I’m sorry, but you just blew it.” Not for the first time in the last ten minutes, I stare at my cousin like she’s a few pieces of straw short of a broomstick. Or, perhaps more appropriately, as if she’s taken to riding a broom around our dorm room in a pointy black hat.
“Whatever prank this is, whatever weird-ass mass hallucination you have going on here, you took it one step too far with that claim. Because I may be a lot of things, but I am not, nor have I ever been, a witch.”
I wave my hand in a magic-wand kind of gesture. “See, nothing happens. No glass dissolving and sending you tumbling into a snake pit. No ruby-red slippers to click together and take me home. No poisoned apple or magic mirror. So no, definitely not a witch.”
Macy laughs. She actually laughs. “I’m not saying you are a witch. I’m just saying that if your dad hadn’t fallen in love with your mom and lost his magic, you probably would be.”
“Wait a minute. You’re saying my dad was a witch?”
“A warlock, yeah. Just like my dad. And I’m a witch. It’s a family thing.”
I’m pretty sure my mind has stretched as far as it can go before just full-on caving in on itself. “I don’t understand. How could my dad be a witch and I not know it?”
“Because he lost his powers when he fell for your mom. Witches aren’t supposed to marry ordinary humans—weakens the bloodlines. So usually, when a witch falls in love with one, they…lose their powers.”
“So my dad was a warlock, but then he wasn’t. And that’s why I’m not a witch?” Looks like I was wrong. My mind can still boggle.
“Pretty much. Yeah.”
“Are you screwing with me, Macy?” I ask, because I have to. “I mean, you have to be messing with me, right?”
“I’m not messing with you, Grace.”
“Are you sure? Like…really sure?”
She leans over and hugs me. “I’m really, really sure.”
“Yeah, I was afraid of that.” I just sit there for a minute, trying to absorb what she’s telling me. “And my dad was okay with that? Losing all his powers?”
“From what my dad says, he really loved your mom. So yeah, he was.”
“He did love her. They loved each other a ridiculous amount.” I can’t help but smile a little as I remember. “They were totally the parents who couldn’t keep their hands off each other. I used to tell them how gross they were. But honestly, it was kind of nice, you know? To see that two people could love each other that much after so many years.”
“I bet.” Macy sighs wistfully.
“So,” I say, trying to act like I’m okay with everything I’ve just learned. “I’m related to witches, huh?”
“Yeah. Bizarre, right?”
“A little bit.” I eye her speculatively. “So…can you fly around the room or something?”
“To prove I’m not messing with you?” she asks with an arch of her brow.
“Maybe.” Definitely.
“No, I cannot fly around the room.”
“Why not?” I ask, strangely disappointed.
“You know this is real life and not a book, right? Things like that don’t actually happen.”