Page 95 of Impractical Magic

“You’re stalling!” Luna laughed. “But you’re right, maybe we should keep a portal or two.”

“Definitely. The inn could offer day-trips through a portal, a nice little income stream. Let’s see some Marriott or Hilton offer that! Of course, there’s a downside.” She kept riffing, enjoying every moment that she was not running face-first into a butternut tree. “A witch would need to go along on each trip, to keep the guests safe and make sure they get back okay. Can you imagine Del doing that? Trying to play tour guide, with her questionable people skills?”

“Yes,” Luna said with a knowing smile. “That sounds like a terrible job . . . for Delilah.”

“Oh, stop it. You know I’m going back to San Francisco the minute this is over.”

Luna tapped at an invisible wristwatch. “You’re not going anywhere if you keep avoiding this portal, Scar.”

Scarlett glared at the tree. Fuck my life, she thought. “I hate this.”

“Nah, you got this. Faith! Trust! Belief!”

Scarlett squared her shoulders, her resolve warring with her instinctive desire to protect her face. She almost took a step but then stopped. “Are you familiar with the phrase, I’m getting too old for this shit?”

“Just do it,” Luna encouraged. “Unstoppable force meets immovable object, let’s go!”

Her heart pounding, Scarlett let out a rebel yell and sprinted straight at the immovable tree. As the butternut loomed larger in her vision, she squinted her eyes, bracing for impact.

Chapter 36: Sous Chef

The impact never came. A wave of disorientation washed over Scarlett, and when she opened her eyes, she’d been safely returned to the second-floor broom closet.

She stumbled out, landing in a heap on the worn, wooden floor. She just lay there for a moment, drawing in the familiar scent of lemon oil and old magic. A wave of unexpected contentment washed over her.

As she pushed herself to her feet, a childhood memory flickered in Scarlett’s mind, so strong she could almost see it—she and Luna, racing down this very hallway, a whirlwind of laughter and untamed magic. Their father, emerging from his study, scooping a giggling Scarlett into his arms as she nuzzled into him. Back then, the inn had been a place of safety, not a reminder of loss and unwanted obligation. For the first time in a very long time, that feeling was returning.

Bite me, Thomas Wolfe, she thought, turns out you can go home again.

The good feelings evaporated as Scarlett looked up to find Louise Demain standing in the hallway, her spectral eyes staring into Scarlett’s soul.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Scarlett muttered. “What do you want?”

“I desire naught but the void,” Louise’s voice echoed. “My presence serves as a mere reminder of the cosmic duties that bind you. A destiny inescapable and unrelenting.”

A surge of resentment rose within Scarlett, and she met Louise’s gaze with a defiant tilt of her chin. “Listen, lady. I just returned from the delightful town of Toad Suck, Arkansas, where I spent the afternoon trying to help Luna save the stupid grove. She’s still out there, conjuring animal after animal, but not one of them has the slightest interest in those flies. Me, I conjured a starling that sucked down those files like a starving aardvark on an ant farm. But Luna’s not interested. I tried, and I got shot down. So before you start in on my destiny, maybe check your sources, okay?”

She turned and strode away, but Louise’s spectral voice drifted effortlessly down the hall. “Your father wishes it.”

Scarlett whirled around. “Don’t you dare—”

“He told me as much.”

“Oh my God. Get lost, you creepy old woman!” She stormed blindly down the hall to the stairs. But as she descended to the lobby, Louise’s words stubbornly stuck in her ears.

Your father wishes it.

He told me as much.

Your father wishes it.

He told me as much.

“I don’t know how!” she shouted aloud without thinking.

The crowd of actors in the lobby stopped and stared up at the hollering lunatic on the first-floor landing.

Scarlett stared back at them, embarrassed. “I don’t know how . . .” She awkwardly turned it into a song. “. . . to looooove him . . .”