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The Book of Magic (Practical Magic, #2)(97)

Author:Alice Hoffman

Kylie made her way inside carefully. There were pools of rain left by passing storms, for little of the roof was left and it was possible to see most of the sky.

“Hello!” Tom called into the emptiness. His voice came echoing back and they both laughed. He took Kylie’s hand and spun her around. She could feel the power that she had inside. Skin and bones. Heart and soul. The black-haired girl who was not afraid of the left-hand, who would bring back the one she loved, who could do more than she had ever imagined.

It was nearly summer, and the heat of the day had been a delight, especially when traipsing through the green woods, but when they entered the house they found it to be chilly. Tom lifted boards from a pile of broken-down furniture into the huge fireplace, then set a fire. He had been sneaking off to the manor ever since he was a boy. In his dreams, this is where he resided, and there was no one to tell him what he could and could not do.

Kylie sat in front of the fire, her black hair falling down her back. She concentrated and closed her eyes and the flames leapt up and burned a hot red.

“See what you can do,” Tom said proudly.

He meant revenge and she meant salvation but either way they were in it together.

A group of hikers had reached the house and approached the threshold. They saw smoke billowing from the huge brick chimney and stood back. There were those who said only bad luck could be found here and the hikers had the shivers, all the same they laughed as they ran off, making sure to break off twigs from the apple trees that were said to be enchanted, which indeed later bloomed in their hands when at last they reached the road.

Kylie turned to watch the hikers flee. It was clear that there was darkness nesting here, and they wanted no part of it. There were three couples, all of them young, chattering as they dashed back into the woods. How innocent they seemed, how free to do as they pleased. They did not turn fires red, or cut their arms to drip blood onto the earth, or stare in the mirror, uncertain of who they’d become. Oh, how Kylie wished she could go back in time, before she’d come here, before she’d heard about left-handed magic, when she was sprawled out on the Cambridge Common, and the sky was blue, and Gideon was squinting through the bright sunlight in order to see her, when the world seemed brand-new.

III.

Antonia had assumed she wouldn’t dream, for there was hardly any room in her bed, not with two bodies stretched out, for she had always believed that dreams were propelled by solitary space, but in fact dreams were born of heart and soul and experience. Now, Ariel’s jasmine oil scented the sheets, and her clothes were scattered on the floor. Antonia knew it was a mistake to lead people on and allow them to believe she was emotionally available, when she wasn’t. That was the great thing about Scott; he understood her, which was why he was the perfect father for their child. But the last time they’d gotten together for a meal in Harvard Square, he’d studied her, then said, “You used to be less shut down.”

“I was always shut down. That’s one of the things you admire about me. Never overly emotional.”

Scott had shaken his head, disagreeing. He was her oldest friend, after all, and felt he knew her best. “It’s still inside of you, you’re just hiding it.”

“You’re saying I’m vulnerable and sensitive?” Antonia had laughed, but she had become uncomfortable with the conversation. “That will never be me. Should we share dessert?” Ever since she’d made the Chocolate Tipsy Cake she’d acquired a sweet tooth.

“I’m being serious,” Scott scolded.

“The tiramisu?” Antonia said evasively.

They had dated for some time, before they’d come out to each other, trusting one another more than anyone else. “You are who you are.”

“I know. I may be a terrible mother.”

“You’ll be great! But that’s not what I’m talking about.” Scott leaned forward. “Let yourself love someone. This isn’t high school, kiddo. You don’t have to hide who you are. You’re beautiful inside,” he said bluntly, for they both knew that although she was striking, she was not a great beauty like her sister. “Where it counts.”

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