this town. Itâs been that way since the 1600s.â April sprawled back and made herself comfortable. âIâll need to have one of the beds. Bad back. Ballet accident. Who gets to sleep on the floor?â she said with the authority of one who had been a guest the summer before. âAnd I get all of the down pillows.â
The sisters exchanged a fleeting look. If they didnât watch out their cousin would take over. They excused themselves and went directly to Aunt Isabelle to ask if April could sleep downstairs in the extra guest room. It was so much larger, they explained, plus April had informed them that she snored, so it would be far better for the sisters to have the attic to themselves. Also, it was possible that they were allergic to the ferret.
When they told April that she wouldnât be sleeping in the attic, she had the nerve to thank them. âReverse psychology,â she said with a grin. âI wanted the downstairs bedroom. More privacy.â
Franny narrowed her eyes. âWeâre not susceptible to reverse psychology. We know all about it. Our father is a psychiatrist.â
âIâve been to more headshrinkers than youâll ever meet,â April informed them. âTell them you canât sleep and your parents donât understand you and you can pretty much get any drug that you want.â
Vincent heard voices and came to the topmost stair.
âWell, well,â April said when he appeared on the attic landing. âArenât you gorgeous.â
It was not a question, and so there was no need to answer. Vincent shrugged, but he didnât disagree.
âAn Owens man is bound to have more power than the seventh son of a seventh son. I suspect youâre a wizard.â
âWell, thank you,â Vincent responded, pleased by her attentions.
âHeâs hardly a man,â Franny said dismissively. âHeâs fourteen. And learning magic out of a book does not make him a wizard.â
April gave Franny the once-over. Perhaps she had met her match, but she doubted it. Franny had a hard exterior, but she was also quite innocent.
By now, Jet and Vincent were drawn in by their cousinâs brash glamour as April held forth, enlightening her younger cousins. She told them how to slip out the window and climb down the drainpipe if they wished to sneak out, and warned that there were mice hiding in the bureau drawers and beneath the beds.
âWatch out for the beehive,â she recommended. âThe honey is so sweet anyone who eats it immediately wants to have sex.â
Jet and Franny exchanged mortified glances, while Vincent grinned and asked, âHow do you know?â
April threw him a world-weary look. âIâve tried it,â she said.
âSex or the honey?â Vincent teased.
âWhat do you think?â April stared at him with such intensity that he shrugged and gave up. Sheâd won that round. âYou do understand that weâre different from other people.â When met with silence April knew she had them in thrall. âI canât believe how naïve you all are. Where do you think your power comes from? Weâre bloodline witches. Which means we have no choice in the matter. Itâs a genetic factor. Like blue eyes or red hair. Itâs who you are. â
âDonât tell me who I am,â Franny shot back.
âYou can argue all you want,â Vincent said. âI donât care where it comes from, as long as I have it. While you debate, Iâm actually going out to live my life, wizard or not.â
He took the narrow stairs two at a time all the way to the first floor. He then went out through the kitchen, letting the screen door slam behind him. They could hear his boots clattering on the porch steps. The girls went to the window to watch him stride down Magnolia Street.
âHeaded for trouble,â April said cheerfully.
âHow do you know that?â Jet
Carol Durand, Summer Prescott