Page 14 of Impractical Magic

“But boys can’t do magic.”

“No, boys in Oak Haven can’t do magic,” Luna corrected. “Our system is matrilineal, but that doesn’t mean all of them are.”

“Yeesh.” Scarlett wrinkled her nose. “Boys with magic. I assume it’s mostly penis-enlargement spells.”

Delilah high-fived her sister.

Luna shrugged. “It’s not so odd, really. Think of Maximillian, the guest at the inn.”

Scarlett and Delilah laughed heartily. “He’s a magician,” Delilah said disdainfully. “Magicians do tricks, not real magic.”

“Exactly,” Scarlett agreed. “Rabbits out of hats, ladies sawed in half, that sort of thing.”

“Yes,” Luna admitted. “Some magicians are pure theater. But not all of them.”

“Come on, Lulu, be serious . . .”

Luna smiled patiently. “I’m telling you. The more I travel, and the more I learn about magic? The more I realize how little we actually understand.”

Nearing the town green, the sisters passed Spellbound Books. In the window was a display of autumn-themed novels: Breakfast at Tiffany’s, Jane Eyre, Haunting of Hill House . . . and of course, the always controversial The Witches of Eastwick.

“Honestly!” Delilah shook her head in annoyance. “I don’t know why Polly insists on putting that one in the window.”

Scarlett chuckled. “How many Oak Haven book groups do you reckon have fallen apart in bitter arguments about Witches of Eastwick?”

“It’s an absolutely disgraceful book!” Delilah exclaimed. “The witches give someone cancer in that book. We would never do that.”

“True, we would never do that,” Luna said carefully. “But who’s to say some other witches wouldn’t?”

Scarlett smiled. “That’s kinda what fiction’s all about, Del.”

“Well, you say tomato, I say despicable.” Delilah stomped away from the window.

Scarlett and Luna wiggled their eyebrows at each other. Luna threw her arm over her sister’s shoulder, and they followed Delilah toward the town green.

***

On the green, a group of children were playing tag in and around the gazebo; their joyous shrieks echoed through the twilight. For a moment, the sisters paused to watch the kids at play. A pang of nostalgia tugged at Scarlett as she remembered being that age. She and her sisters had been inseparable. Full of boundless energy, they spent their days concocting potions in the woods and casting spells on unsuspecting butterflies. Back then, magic had seemed so simple—a source of wonder and amusement, a delicious secret binding them together.

We had no clue back then, Scarlett thought now. We had no idea just how wrong it could go.

Delilah broke their reverie. “We should visit the old woman.”

“Ughhh,” Scarlett moaned. “Come on. No, we shouldn’t.”

“It’s a good idea, Scar.” Luna wrapped one arm around each of her sisters. “We should remind ourselves what we’re here for.”

Opposite the gazebo stood the imposing statue of Oak Haven’s founding mother, Goodwife Virginia Melrose. Cast in weathered bronze, the figure depicted a woman in flowing robes, with one hand outstretched as if casting a spell. Her expression was resolute, her gaze fixed on the horizon. The statue stood in testament to the unwavering determination that led to the founding of Oak Haven in 1682.

For Scarlett, the statue evoked a complex tapestry of emotions—admiration, sure, but also resentment, guilt, and a nagging, unwanted sense of responsibility.

“She looks so proud.” Luna gazed up at their ancestor with a hint of awe. “A true pioneer. She led the Salem witches to freedom.”

“Well, yeah,” Scarlett replied, “she led the witches to freedom . . . but left the innocent women to hang. Nobody likes to remember that part. The witchfinders showed up and poof! Our ancestors disappeared into the woods. Nice for them, but not so nice for Elizabeth Howe, Susannah Martin, and all the other victims.”

Her words hung heavy in the air. Their ancestors, heroic as they were in many ways, had abandoned their town—left Salem to the not-so-tender mercies of Cotton Mather and his crew of judges. It was a history they’d all had to grapple with in one way or another—a bloodstain on the otherwise valiant narrative of Oak Haven.

Luna sighed, a troubled look clouding her features. “It was complicated. It’s not something I’m proud of, either. But those were desperate times. They had to make a choice.”