Page 18

Jenny waved her hand dismissively. "Ancient history. I've had time to reflect in that barbaric magical containment facility." Her gaze swept the room, landing on several townspeople who shifted uncomfortably. "I've come to make amends. To reconcile."

I recognized the honeyed tone immediately—the same one she'd used when convincing our parents that I had destroyed mother's antique vase when we were children. The same voice that had charmed half the magical community of Assjacket while wearing my face.

"Reconcile?" I said. "Like you reconciled my garden shears with my stomach last time?"

Jenny took a step toward me, arms extended like we were in some twisted family reunion commercial.

"Chloe, sweetie," she cooed, "I know we've had our... misunderstandings."

"Misunderstandings?" I backed up a step. "You literally tried to replace me and take over my life."

Jenny's face arranged itself into a practiced expression of remorse that didn't reach her glowing eyes. "We were both victims of our upbringing. Remember how Mother always made me perform at their dinner parties? How Father paraded me around like a show pony?"

I felt the familiar twist in my stomach—the childhood memories I'd spent years trying to bury. The dinner parties where Jenny sparkled while I hid in corners with books. The constant refrain: "Why can't you be more like your sister?"

"You were always their favorite," Jenny continued, her voice taking on a wounded quality. "The quiet one. The smart one. They never pushed you to be perfect."

I laughed, the sound harsh even to my own ears. "That's some creative revisionist history. They barely noticed I existed unless they needed someone to compare you to."

Frosty huffed beside me. "Is gaslighting a family tradition, or just her specialty?"

Jenny's smile tightened. "Our parents loved you in their way. They just understood my potential better." She took another step forward. "We're the only family each other has left, Chloe. Don't you want to heal those wounds?"

Lincoln shifted beside me, his eyes narrowed. I felt rather than saw his magic unfurling, sensing something I couldn't.

"Interesting," he murmured. "Her aura keeps fluctuating. The black magic signature intensifies whenever she mentions family."

Jenny's gaze snapped to Lincoln, her expression flickering with annoyance before smoothing back into saccharine sweetness. "And you must be the boyfriend. How lovely that my sister finally found someone who tolerates her... peculiarities."

"What do you really want, Jenny?" I asked, cutting through the performance.

Her facade cracked slightly. "Can't a sister just want reconciliation?"

"Not when that sister is you."

Jenny's patience visibly thinned. Her floating hair began to crackle more intensely, small sparks jumping between curls.

"Fine. Always so boring, Chloe. So practical." Her voice hardened. "I need your magical signature. Just a little piece of it for a ritual. Nothing you'd miss."

"And why would I give you that?"

"Because I'm special," she hissed, mask fully slipping. "I've always been special. You were the afterthought, the plain one they kept around to make me look better. And yet somehow, you got the more powerful magical signature."

Lincoln stepped between us, his entire demeanor transforming. The polite editor vanished, replaced by something ancient and formidable. Power radiated from him in waves that made the air shimmer.

"That's quite enough," he said, his voice resonating with authority that made even Jenny take a step back.

I watched as Jenny's face contorted with rage, her glamorous mask crumbling completely. The air around her fingertips darkened, condensing into swirling orbs of malevolent energy.

"You always were stubborn," she snarled. "If you won't give it willingly?—"

She thrust her hands forward. Black lightning exploded toward me, crackling with destructive intent.

Lincoln moved with shocking speed. His hands traced ancient symbols in the air, golden light streaming from his fingertips. A translucent shield materialized between us and Jenny's attack. The black energy slammed against it, spreading like oil across water.

"Family grimoire has its uses," Lincoln grunted, strain evident in his voice.

Jenny shrieked in frustration, hurling bolt after bolt. Each impact made Lincoln's shield flicker dangerously.

"Jezfucnuboobles!" I ducked as a stray tendril of dark magic singed the air above my head. "That was my favorite t-shirt!"

A white-and-red blur shot past me. Frosty, wings extended, launched himself directly at Jenny's face, his battle cry somewhere between a crow and a war whoop.

"BAWK-YAAAAH! TASTE THE FURY OF THE FEATHERED FIST!"

Jenny screamed as three feet of enraged rooster attacked her perfectly styled hair, talons tangling in her blonde curls. Her concentration broke, the dark energy dissipating as she batted wildly at Frosty.

Around the perimeter of the town hall, Zelda directed a circle of witches. They began a low, harmonious chant, their combined magic creating a shimmering barrier that slowly contracted inward.

"Containment spell's almost ready," Zelda called. "Just need thirty more seconds!"

Jenny finally dislodged Frosty with a blast of magic that sent him tumbling through the air. Lincoln caught him with a cushioning spell before he hit the wall.

"You think these... these small-town nobodies are your family?" Jenny spat, her eyes wild as she noticed the closing circle. "They'll never understand you like I do. We share blood, Chloe!"

I stepped forward, no longer cowering. The years of feeling inferior, of shrinking myself to avoid her shadow—they fell away like an old, ill-fitting coat.

"Blood doesn't make family, Jenny. These people—" I gestured around the room, "—they've shown me more love and acceptance in two years than our parents did my entire life. They see me. The real me."

Jenny's face twisted with hatred. "Then you can all disappear together!" She raised her arms, drawing power from somewhere dark and forbidden. The air crackled with chaotic energy as a magical storm began forming above our heads, ripping at the ceiling.

Lincoln grabbed my hand. "Together?" he asked.

I nodded, feeling our magical signatures sync and amplify. "Together."

I gripped Lincoln's hand, feeling our magical energies intertwine. The sensation never failed to amaze me—like electricity and honey flowing between us, powerful yet comforting.

"I hope you have a plan beyond hand-holding," I muttered, watching Jenny's storm grow. "Because she looks extra murdery today."

Lincoln's eyes gleamed with determination. "Remember that portal spell from the Sands grimoire?"

"The one that almost turned your office into a black hole last month?"

"I've refined it." His thumb traced circles on my palm. "But I need your containment magic to stabilize it."

Frosty staggered to his feet, feathers askew. "Whatever you're planning, do it fast! My beautiful tail feathers can't take another magical singeing!"

Jenny's storm tore chunks from the ceiling. Plaster rained down as townspeople scrambled for cover.

"On three," Lincoln whispered, guiding my free hand into position. "One..."

I visualized the spell structure, feeling our magics mesh.

"Two..."

Jenny spotted our joined hands. "How sweet," she sneered. "I'll send you both to oblivion together!"

"Three!"

We moved in perfect synchronicity, our hands tracing complex patterns. Where Lincoln's magic formed a swirling vortex of golden energy, mine created a stabilizing framework of lavender light. The spells intertwined, expanding into a shimmering portal directly behind Jenny.

"What is this?" Jenny shrieked, sensing the power building behind her.

"Express delivery back to Magical Pokey," I called. "One-way ticket!"

Zelda seized the moment, shouting to her circle of witches. "Now! Push her in!"

Their combined magic surged forward like an invisible wave. Jenny's feet slid backward toward the portal despite her desperate resistance.

"You can't do this! I'm your sister!" Her nails dug into the floorboards, leaving gouges.

"You tried to kill me. Twice." I maintained my focus on the portal. "That's not very sisterly."

As Jenny reached the portal's edge, Lincoln added a final flourish to our spell—an intricate binding pattern that glowed with ancient power.

"Special delivery with extra security measures," he said grimly. "The wardens will find you can't access your blood magic anymore."

Jenny's eyes widened in horror as she realized what we'd done. With a final shriek of rage, she tumbled backward into the portal. The vortex collapsed with a thunderclap, leaving nothing but a scorch mark on the floor.

I collapsed into the nearest chair as the portal closed, my hands shaking with a mixture of adrenaline and magical exhaustion. The town hall buzzed with activity, but it all seemed distant, like I was watching through foggy glass.

"You okay?" Lincoln knelt beside me, his golden-brown eyes searching my face.

Before I could answer, the air shimmered near the scorch mark where Jenny had disappeared. Three figures in midnight-blue uniforms materialized, their badges glowing with official Supernatural Security Division insignia.

"Containment team, on site." The lead officer, a stern-faced woman with silver hair cropped close to her scalp, surveyed the damage. "Woolsworth situation neutralized?"

"She's back where she belongs," Zelda confirmed, approaching with dignity despite her disheveled appearance. "Though your 'secure facility' seems to have a Jenny-shaped hole in it."

The officer winced. "We've been tracking her magical signature since the escape. Unfortunately, her powers grew exponentially during confinement."

"How is that possible?" Lincoln asked, his hand still protectively on my shoulder.

"Blood magic feeds on negative emotion," the officer explained, directing her team to begin repair work on our magical barriers. "And your sister—" she glanced at me, "—has an abundance of rage and resentment to fuel it."

Frosty limped over, his feathers still smoking slightly. "Next time, maybe try a facility that doesn't double as a dark magic gym, hmm?"

The officer ignored him, pulling out an official-looking scroll that unfurled itself in midair.

"Chloe Woolsworth, this serves as official notification that Jennifer Woolsworth's magical privileges have been permanently revoked.

The Supernatural Security Council has implemented blood-binding restrictions that will prevent her from accessing her powers, regardless of emotional state. "

I nodded numbly, watching as the scroll vanished in a puff of blue smoke.

"We'll strengthen your town barriers before departure," she added, then turned to coordinate her team.

The hall gradually emptied as townspeople returned to their homes and businesses. Lincoln stayed beside me, silent but present, until we were alone except for Frosty, who was attempting to preen his disheveled feathers back into order.

"She's gone," I whispered, the reality finally sinking in. "She's really gone."

And then, to my horror, I burst into tears.

Lincoln gathered me into his arms without hesitation, holding me against his chest as years of pent-up emotion poured out.

I'd never allowed myself this release before—not when Jenny had tormented me as a child, not when she'd tried to kill me the first time, not even when I'd discovered her impersonating me in Assjacket.

"I used to hide in our family library," I choked out between sobs. "Behind the encyclopedias where nobody ever looked. I'd stay there for hours while Jenny performed magic tricks for our parents' friends. They'd applaud and praise her, never once asking where I was."

Lincoln's arms tightened around me. "Their loss," he murmured into my hair.

"One Christmas, I spent three days making a special snow globe with real magic—tiny figures that danced and sang.

When I gave it to my mother, she thanked me and put it aside.

Ten minutes later, Jenny handed her a crudely wrapped package with a dead butterfly inside, and my mother cried with joy over her 'artistic sensitivity. '"

I felt Lincoln's jaw tighten against my head, but he remained silent, letting me purge the poison of those memories.

"She's the worst back-up act ever," Frosty announced, breaking the heavy silence. "I mean, seriously—purple eyes and blonde curls? So last season. You got the better genetics, Woolsworth. Plus, your familiar is devastatingly handsome and skilled in multiple martial arts."

A watery laugh escaped me. Lincoln's chest rumbled with his own chuckle. Soon all three of us were laughing—perhaps with an edge of hysteria, but laughing nonetheless.