Page 29 of Impractical Magic

The room glitched back, and Scarlett stood there like a wild animal caught in the trap of the Melrose Glare. Blessedly, voices in the lobby cut through the tension. Luna burst into the dining room with a flamboyant figure trailing behind her.

“Scarlett! Mama!” Luna chirped, a wide grin plastered across her face. “Behold. I present to you Maximillian the Magnificent!”

“Mes belles dames,” he said—suddenly and quite inexplicably French. He bowed, a flourish of his crimson cape sending dust motes dancing in the afternoon sun. Maximillian carried an overstuffed valise in one hand and a rabbit cage in the other.

“His performance in the park was astounding,” Luna declared. “Scarlett, you really missed out.”

“Mais bien sur,” Scarlett replied with a wry smile. Some animals have to chew off their own legs to escape traps—all Scarlett had to do to escape the Melrose Glare was to push Maximillian in front of it. “Of the millions of rabbits pulled out of hats throughout history, yours was definitely in the top five thousand.”

Maximillian’s smile didn’t quite fade, but a bit of steel glinted in his eyes. “You seem quite bitter, my dear. Perhaps you should cast a cheerful spell to improve your mood? Or do you fear it would turn to merde, as all witches’ spells in Oak Haven do these days?”

“Excuse me,” Mama said frostily. “What did you just say?”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop ten degrees. There it is, thought Scarlett. You’re the one on the hook now, Max.

Mama stepped forward, her voice low. “Perhaps, Maximillian, you should remember where you are, and choose your words with more care.”

He blinked, momentarily taken aback. “I mean no offense. Magic is my trade and—”

“Tricks and lies are your trade, sir—just as they are with all your kind.”

“Madame, unlike witches, I work very hard at perfecting my illusions. I am a consummate professional and my illusions are one hundred percent reliable, which is more than anyone in this room can say. I can only imagine how frustrated you all must be with the appalling chaos of late. But there is no need to take it out on an artisan such as myself.” Maximillian turned dramatically, swooshing his cape as he made his way out of the dining room. “Please be so kind as to inform the chef I will be taking my evening repast in my suite.”

With another flourish, he was gone.

“Mama.” Luna joined her family at the gift-covered table. “That wasn’t necessary. He’s a tremendous talent.”

“He’s a tremendous gooney bird,” Scarlett replied. “And . . . French, suddenly? He was Canadian this morning.”

Mama rolled her eyes. “Russian a few days ago.”

“What,” Luna said, “You don’t like diversity?”

“He is a ridiculous person,” Mama declared.

“Witches are so prejudiced,” Luna said. “You’re such magic bigots.”

Mama went over to her youngest girl and gave her an—arguably very condescending—pat on the shoulder. “I’m afraid you’ve been away from home too long, my dear. Nonetheless . . . you’re right about Max in one sense. He is a well-behaved guest who pays in full every week. All of us—and I very much include myself—could bear to remember that.”

“Max is just cranky because Oak Haven witches mistreat him so,” Luna said. “You all have these wrongheaded notions about magicians being phony, and you treat them like they aren’t even people. He was telling me about it on the walk home. Apparently, it’s all the rage right now to hire him for cocktail parties; the witches sit around and mess up all of his tricks. To hear him tell it, humiliating magicians has replaced book groups as the number-one entertainment around here.”

“I must admit,” Mama chuckled, “it is amusing. Florie McNamara had a party last week and hired Maximillian to perform after dinner. When he reached into his hat to reveal that mangy rabbit of his, he pulled back an armful of black mambas instead.”

Luna gasped. “Mama, that’s terrible!”

“Pssh, she had an antidote spell ready—he never was in any real danger.”

“Oh my God,” Scarlett said, half-shocked and half-impressed. “You ladies are really getting spiky in your old age.”

“It’s not nice,” Luna chastised, “and I can tell you it’s really starting to get to him.”

“Perhaps he should move along,” suggested Scarlett. “Take his talents to Litchfield.”

“All right, all right—that’s enough,” Mama said. “Luna, please go help your sister with the protection spells. We need a different one for each room and it’s going to take a while.”

“I will,” Luna replied, “if you promise to be nice to Max from now on.”

“I’ll take it under advisement.”