Magic and the Modern Girl by Mindy Klasky Read Free Book Online Page A

keep from saying the spiteful things I thought. In a flash, I thought of old King Lear, before the madness overtook him, asking his daughters how much they loved him. Goneril and Regan lied through their teeth, piling on false compliments, even as they plotted to destroy their father. Only the youngest daughter, Cordelia, spoke the truth, saying, “I love your majesty according to my bond; nor more nor less.”
    Of course, Lear learned all about lies and betrayal by the end of the play, and honest Cordelia died a pretty pitiful death. So maybe I should have lied to Clara there in Whitlow’s. Maybe I should have told her how much I would miss her, how much her departure panged me. Melissa would have been able to quote all of Lear , lay out a perfect argument about why I must make peace with my mother.
    But Melissa wasn’t there. I was. And I wasn’t promising any love to the woman who had borne me.
    Clara, that was, and Gran, who were both looking at me expectantly. “Now, dear,” Gran prompted. “What is your news?”
    I pushed my egg-soaked lox around on my plate. “I’m losing my powers,” I muttered.
    “What?” Clara asked. “I can’t hear you, Jeanette. It sounded like you said that you’re using your powers.”
    “Losing!” I said, and I probably spoke a little too loudly. Definitely spoke a little too loudly, I amended, when a dozen people at nearby tables turned to stare. “Losing,” I repeated in a softer voice, and then I told them about my search for runes, about the gift I truly had intended to make to Clara, about the cleaning spell that had left me dizzy and dull in my kitchen.
    Gran reached out and patted my hand, the eternal picture of loving concern. “Don’t you worry, dear. I’m sure that you just need a rest. And Clara can get new runes elsewhere. I’m sure…” She trailed off, obviously uncertain about just where a witch went to acquire the basic tools of her trade. Witch*Mart, maybe?
    I shook my head. “That’s just it,” I said. “I’ve had too much of a rest. David says that abandoning my magic is what put me into this ridiculous situation.”
    “Ah, David,” Gran said. I recognized the fondness in her voice. She had always liked my warder, always trusted him. He, for his part, treated her with the exquisite courtesy of an ambassador addressing a dowager empress. That respect, along with the occasional well-chosen basket of sweets, had made him a great favorite in Gran’s household. “How is David these days? I never hear you talk about him.”
    “He’s fine, Gran.” I answered automatically, the same programmed response that I’d used as a sullen teenager, when my grandmother wanted to know who I was hanging out with, where we were going. But then, I forced myself to stop, to think about my answer. “I haven’t seen a lot of him lately. I think that he’s fine.”
    And yet, even then I knew I was telling something of a lie. Physically, of course, my warder was as well as ever; I had seen that on Friday night. But what exactly had my slacking off meant to him? Why, precisely, had he been so angry with me? So abrupt? What had he been doing during the past five months? And how had he felt, being rejected by his witch, being forced back into the mundane work of Hecate’s Court?
    I’d been too wrapped up in my own drama to ask him.
    Gran, never a fool, pounced on my nonresponsive response. “Make me a promise, Jane.”
    “Oh, no.” I pushed my plate back with authority, casting an immediate appeal to Clara. Please , I asked her silently. Get me out of this. It was almost worth it to harness my magic, to face another wave of dizziness and confusion, if only I could get my mother to read my mind.
    Clara said, “Oh, a promise! You always have been one for promises, Mother. That’s one of the many things I love about you.”
    I gave Clara a dirty look. Maybe Goneril and Regan just had bad publicists. Maybe they had been right to gang up on their stupid,