Page 36 of Everything She Does Is Magic (Fableview #1)

Anya

At least my last night as a witch was memorable. That’s what I tell myself on the drive home, replaying the Fall Ball in its entirety, trying to memorize each moment so it can keep me company in my new, powerless life. Darcy smiling at me in her dress. Dancing for hours. Saving Grace.

It was all worth it.

Every last second.

Mom, Dad, and Cal are all sitting on the porch when I park the Volkswagen in the driveway.

I appreciate the fact that they aren’t waiting to do this, not making me suffer through small talk before sharing the bad news.

It’s a mercy that isn’t lost on me. They know this will be hard, and they don’t want to prolong it either.

My mom, typically so bright, wears her closest impression of a frown. Cal scowls as she always does. And Dad is Dad.

“I know,” I say, picking up the hem of my dress so it doesn’t get ruined by the wet grass. I’d like to save this too. Maybe I can put it on sometimes as a sad memento. Like a funeral dress. The last relic of my life of joy.

“Doyle witches don’t mess with the natural order of human life,” Aunt Cal says anyway, despite my generous lead-up.

I don’t bother saying that I know. It’s the first thing any of us learn when we start training.

It’s been repeated by every mentor I’ve ever had.

It’s what I would’ve explained to Julia, if she’d ever actually wanted to listen.

For most of my family, it’s the one rule they set for me at all, knowing my power might be strong enough to actually do it.

Only Cal has given me another—her rule about not having a romantic relationship with a protector.

“I’d say I’m sorry, but I don’t regret it,” I tell my family. “I will gladly give my powers up if it means that Grace is okay.”

All I can hope for is that stripping my powers doesn’t hurt.

My mind wanders anyway, envisioning the coven putting their hands on my head like some kind of magical electric chair.

Or maybe it’s slower. Maybe it’s a detox that takes days, and I’ll be stuck in a room all alone until my powers run dry.

“You did the right thing,” Cal says.

Her words startle me out of my imagined nightmare. She’s not frowning, not any more than usual. If anything, she looks…proud.

“This isn’t the same as an old man who was dying of cancer,” she continues. “If anything, the way you saved your friend will help you with your initiation. You’ve shown a willingness to aid your community. To use your magic around here for good.”

It’s not the mention of the initiation that catches me off guard. It’s calling Grace my friend. When it was Darcy in that position, it never fit. Kyle Holtzenberg is a good guy, but I wouldn’t call us friends. With Grace, it’s easy. Obvious.

I saved her for a lot of reasons. She’s a good person. She ate that cookie because she thought it was the same kind as mine, and I felt bad about that. I saved her because she didn’t deserve to die at the Fall Ball.

But I also saved her because she was—no, is—my friend.

Grace Manalo is my friend.

“How did you know I did it?” I ask.

“It was the vision I had when your parents came,” Cal tells me.

“I saw you holding her. Darcy watching. At the time, I hadn’t seen you with that girl before, so I knew you were still keeping something from us.

I also knew you needed to be in charge of your own decisions.

Telling you would just confuse you, make you think you should do something else. ”

Aunt Cal opens her front door. It feels symbolic, this moment, ushering me into the house. It’s a gesture of kindness as much as it is a confirmation: You are welcome here. You belong to us. You’ve always belonged to us.

“So I’m not, like…banned from joining?” I ask, still afraid to move. “I interfered with death.”

“I think we’d all quit the coven if that was what made it so you couldn’t be one of us,” Mom says, walking down the steps. Meeting me where I am, then helping me move forward.

Inside the house, Aunt Cal gives me tea. Dad rubs my shoulder.

“I’m sorry, I don’t want to push my luck, but did I or did I not break the number one rule?” I ask.

“Personally I’d say what you did was more of a helpful boost for the paramedics than a complete changing of her fate. I think it’s a gray area,” Cal says.

She’s lying. Stern, serious Aunt Cal is lying.

For me.

“For safety’s sake, we will keep it as our little secret,” she continues. “Just don’t bring it up around your Uncle Edward.”

This gets a snicker out of Mom and Cal. He’s their younger brother and, judging by my time with him, kind of a prick.

“Okay,” I say, taking a sip of the concoction Cal’s made. It’s perfect, all the herbs she’s chosen designed to steady my nerves.

I thought this would be my undoing, but instead, it’s given me the strength to do what’s needed.

I’m ready to choose my protector.