Sadie winced inwardly. Blood? Yes. They shared that. But family was more than blood. It was memories and love and late-night phone calls and being there when no one else was; none of which they had with this beautiful woman who stood before them, her hair so shiny it looked reflective, her eyes so eager it made Sadie’s chest ache.
By the time Sage had fallen asleep at the kitchen table, her head pillowed on her stuffed lamb and Bambi at her feet, Sadie still couldn’t decide how she felt. So instead, she told Florence they could take Gigi’s room for the time being. Florence carried the sleeping child, her sister, Sadie reminded herself, upstairs.
“I’ll be right back,” Florence said over her shoulder. And like a dutiful bodyguard, the dog trailed after them both, his head held high, as though he’d been waiting for the assignment his whole short life.
“I can’t believe she’s back,” Kay said again the moment she was out of earshot.
“About damn time too,” Anne said, sounding exactly like Gigi.
“Did you know?” Sadie asked the aunts. “About Sage?”
“I didn’t,” Kay said at the same time Anne nodded. “You’re such a bitch,” Kay said, though there was no venom to it.
“We’ve barely kept in touch.” Anne rolled her eyes, and their bickering continued until it stopped abruptly when Florence walked back in.
“I’m sure you have a million questions,” she said, taking a seat at the table. Her voice was weary.
“What’s your magic?” Seth asked, like he just couldn’t help himself.
Sadie’s eyebrows shot up at the question. It certainly wasn’t the first one she’d wanted to ask.
“Magic …” Florence was frowning now, twirling a spoon idly in the air. “Magic is only as powerful as the curse that accompanies it, you know. My curse was Julian. And from that, being parted from you two”—she pointed the spoon at Sadie and Seth in turn—“and the rest of my family.”
Sadie pursed her lips at the answer in the form of a riddle. It reminded her of Tava.
“I ran for years,” Florence continued. “Like I said, my curse wasn’t just to leave, but to be a wanderer. Always chased by sins of the past. The ghosts, spirits—whatever you want to call them—would never let me rest. Anyway, I guess it’s time you heard my side of the story. I think we should start from the beginning.”
And while a dark, cinnamon-scented wind picked up and made the oak tree tap, tap, tap on the window, Florence began her story.
“I fell for Julian as a teenager. I was wild, I’m sure mother told you.” She laughed but there was an edge of sorrow to it. “I only wanted trouble and freedom and, most of all, to rid myself of my damned magic. I wanted to see who I was apart from this, this legacy that had been heaped on my shoulders.”
Sadie watched Seth’s face as he drank in every word, knowing he found in their mother a kindred spirit.
“Looking back, I realize I wanted to separate myself from the family to find myself. But back then, I told myself I was in love. And Julian was my ticket out.
“By the time I realized I was lying to myself, I tried to leave him, but something always compelled me back. That’s when he told me about the ritual to rid me of my magic.” Sadie’s skin crawled as though rubbed all over with wood nettle. “Of course, it was really to make me fertile. I was stupid to believe him,” Florence said simply. “I blame myself. I should have never tried to run away from who I was. What I was. I was too scared and stubborn to ask for help. And then I was pregnant.
“I didn’t want to leave you. But you have to understand: I was physically unable to stay. The spell Gigi cast … I was forced away. Fate pushed me until I was outside the city limits. Even then, I stayed as long as I could. I hovered in the next town over, but catastrophe started to strike. Natural disasters appeared out of nowhere, following no scientific pattern. And then people started dying. It was my fault—I knew it was. And so I left. I didn’t want any more blood on my hands. After that I could never stay long in one place.”
Florence shared how she’d traveled with a carnival for a while, setting up a booth as a tarot and palm reader, dispensing fortunes and warnings like soup to the starving. She told them how she wept every night, and when she’d tried to send letters or postcards or gifts, the very envelopes and packages had burst into flame, leaving an ash that smelled of self-hatred and regret.
“I was so angry, I thought I’d use my magic to become what nature demanded I must never be: an amplifier. I learned everything I could about who we are, what we can do. I delved into the deepest, darkest parts of myself, hoping that by some miracle I could find my way back to you. But miracles are for fools who don’t believe in fate.”