Page 36 of Impractical Magic

Delilah rolled her eyes. “If you two aren’t going to take this seriously, maybe you should go home.”

“Sorry, Del.”

“Hey, it’s just our entire town’s magic supply under threat. No need to get worked up about it.”

“I said sorry, Del, jeez.”

“It’s imperative to cleanse this tree,” Delilah said. “Luna, what do you suggest?”

“Hang on,” Scarlett interrupted. “You mean right now? Shouldn’t we get Mama, at least?”

Delilah frowned. “I am certainly not running home to ask mommy for permission to fix such a basic problem. Can you imagine her reaction? We’d never hear the end of it. No, we are three adult witches, Scarlett—even if you are out practice. We can handle a bunch of dragonflies. What do you say, Luna. Any suggestions?”

“Well . . . remember I was telling you about the weaver ants in Tasmania? They create these giant nests high in the trees. And what those witches do is conjure this very particular smoke that the ants absolutely hate. The smoke causes them to flee, and then you can kind of herd them where you want. I could create the smoke, and you two could cast a binding net all the way around the tree. The bugs will flee the smoke and fly right into the net.”

“What sort of smoke will work?” Delilah asked.

“No clue—this is going to be trial and error. But I have to say, I agree with Delilah. I don’t think we should wait around for the infestation to spread. Any minute now, those flies are going to decide the rest of the grove looks pretty tasty, and Oak Haven could lose control of magic completely.”

Delilah nodded. “Okay, let’s get started. Scarlett, why don’t you and I set up over—”

“Hang on.” Scarlett’s eyes were wide and haunted. “Wait a second. What are we doing here?”

Her sisters look at one another, then back at Scarlett.

“Saving Oak Haven?” offered Luna.

“Seriously?! Am I the only one who remembers the last time we were out here, performing cooperative magic to ‘save’ Oak Haven?”

“Oh, Scarlett, no . . .”

“Come on!” Delilah exclaimed. “Completely different situation.”

“How? How is it different, Delilah? Ten years ago, it was you, Luna, Mama, and me, right here in the grove, drawing some kind of nastiness out of the oak trees in order to save magic. Poison, back then, rather than bugs. We drew out the poison and . . . anybody remember what happened next?”

Luna shook her head sadly. “Please don’t do this . . .”

“We drew it out, all right. Ooh boy, we drew that poison out of the trees and performed a transference spell to collect it in a vessel, back at the inn. And guess what that vessel turned out to be? Any takers?”

“Stop it, Scarlett!” Delilah stood up. “It was an accident.”

“Yeah, Del. I never thought we poisoned our father on purpose. We just forgot to specify. ‘Uh hey, Magic? Find a proper vessel for all that poison okay? Don’t store it in the human vessel that’s our dad, cool? That was quite a whoopsie, wasn’t it? And now, here we are, about to do the same goddamn thing all over again.” Scarlett stood to face her older sister. “Tell me, Delilah, what do you reckon the unintended consequence will be this time?”

“Just go home, Scar. Luna and I can handle this on our own; no need for you to sully yourself with this.”

“Go home?! Del, you called me, remember? You left that pathetic little message—”

“. . . it wasn’t pathetic . . .”

“—saying I had to get here immediately. But now that I’m here disagreeing with you, suddenly you don’t want me involved.”

“To be honest, Scar? After ten years apart, I’d forgotten how annoying you can be.”

“Hey, enough!” Luna raised her arms like the referee she so often became when her sisters were together. “Del, we need Scarlett. Look at this tree—it’s a hundred feet tall. A net of that size will only function with cooperative magic. Remember, we need to collect all the insects at once—if we lose even a couple, they’ll just breed, and we’ll be back where we started. And Scarlett, look . . . I understand what you’re saying, okay? I hear you.”

“Oh, you hear me,” Scarlett groaned. “Wonderful. Therapy-speak, just what I need. You going to tell me that feelings aren’t facts now?”

“Well, actually . . . The situation ten years ago was very different—I know it doesn’t feel that way, but it was. That was a teleportation spell that went wrong, remember? We were trying to transfer physical matter across a distance. That’s very difficult. We tried to specify what would become of that matter at the new location, and Papa accidentally got in the way.”