Family Magic by Chloe Price (old books to read .txt) 📖

Neither Mom nor I went back to bed. We examined Uncle Frank’s body and discovered most of the damage was to his clothing. We managed to manhandle him back into his cupboard to heal what burns he acquired in his sleep. A quick check of Sunny’s cupboard found her safe and soundly sleeping away the day. Since vampires grew weaker and lost consciousness right around the time the sun came up, we could only assume whoever exposed him knew he would be most vulnerable and unable to fight back in the five or so minutes just before dawn.

We took the better part of an hour between the two of us searching for Sassafras, both with our power and physically examining the property. I scoured the back yard but found only a few stray silver hairs by the side of the house he could have left there at any time. Mom called a halt to the search. Her eyes told me what she wouldn’t say. Neither of us could feel him anywhere. The only way that would be possible was if either he was too far away, or… I didn’t want to think about the ‘or’. It was way too final.

I ran up to my room to change, remembering with a start it was Halloween. My family, like most witches, observed Halloween as the rest of the country, as a safe, fun, costumed opportunity to get free stuff from the neighbors. The real holiday, Samhain, was a fire festival, a time of power when we said goodbye to summer. It wasn’t for a couple more nights, so it didn’t matter to us one way or another what the normals did for kicks. Still, the superstitious kid in me who used to watch horror movies and be afraid of monsters in the closet made the spooky connection, the implications giving me shivers, considering. I let it go as I slipped into a hoody and jeans and hit the bathroom to brush my teeth.

I tried not to stare at my gaunt reflection or the black circles under my eyes. I felt really tired, emotionally and physically, and sat on the edge of the tub for a minute to get my bearings.

I forced myself to go over the night before again, just in case something surfaced I missed in the heat of the moment. I knew a chunk of my memory had gone missing but couldn’t get to it. The harder I tried, the madder I became. I finally cut loose my demon and let her have a go, teeth clenched against the roll in my stomach.

I stood on the cliff path. She faced me. She pushed me and I started to fall…

I jerked myself back, shaking my head, face bathed in a cold sweat. No help there. As if I should have been expecting any. No wonder my demon was mad at me. I had suppressed her my whole life.

I went back to brushing when I had my balance back, listening to the distant sound of Mom on the phone downstairs. When I made it back to the kitchen, she was finishing her call, all the while examining a piece of black and orange paper. I groaned inside as I recognized it.

“Thank you, yes,” she said into the phone as she held the invitation up to show me, questions in her eyes. “I’ll be by as soon as I can, if you could have it ready? I’ll see you then.” She hung up the phone and offered me the offending slip of gaudy paper.

“Can I ask why I found this in the trash?”

“Because it’s garbage,” I said, taking it from her. I walked to the closet and tossed it in the can.

“Honey,” she said. “You were invited to a party. You’re not going to go?”

“You seriously expect me to go to some stupid costume party after everything that’s happened?” I shook my head. “Mom, get real. There are way more important things to think about right now, don’t you think?”

Mom took my hand and pulled me to her. She hugged me so hard I almost said something but she let me go.

“I want you to go to the party,” she whispered.

“Why?” Someone tried to destroy the coven, kill Uncle Frank and us and now Sass was… missing. Why would I want to go to the party?

“Because,” she said.

Yeah, great answer.

“I don’t have a costume,” I muttered under my breath. I was going to lose this argument that wasn’t an argument because I was considering doing what she wanted if only to make her feel better.

“I’m sure we can come up with something,” she smiled. Her eyes sparkled. “Syd, you’ve been wanting to fit in for so long. And you have so few chances left to be young and have fun. I’m taking care of things. Don’t let this stop you, please. Please.”

“Except I hate costume parties,” I grumbled.

She laughed. “You are the most contrary child,” she said.

I guess I was going.

That was how I found myself spending the day with Mom and Meira, wandering from family house to family house in tow behind my mother, gathering up items for my costume. No store bought Halloween for the Hayles, oh no. A shawl here and a sparkly scarf there, we made the rounds to every single coven member in a couple of hours. Everyone seemed charmed by the idea of my sister and I participating in such a mainstream version of a very serious holiday and most made some kind of contribution. Meira bounced from place to place, winning hugs and kisses from everyone, her excitement so clean and lovely even I was feeling a bit of a lift from it.

I’m sure Mom’s ulterior motive was a chance to check in with everyone personally, but she made it a game. We laughed a lot between the three of us over the tacky choices she made.

By the time we were back at the house, we managed to load up on a large amount of stuff. It took the rest of the afternoon to decide what to dress us in. Erica even took part in the fun, although from the serious exchanges she had with Mom, I know she was there more to support my mother than to help us get ready for Halloween.

The only sad part of the day was a heartbreaker. Meira found a feather boa and wrapped it around herself. The soft red feathers were perfect against her crimson skin. She giggled as they tickled her nose.

“Sass will love this,” she laughed. “I’m going to go show him.”

The tears were heavy and immediate as Mom sat her down and explained Sassafras was gone.

It sort of took the fun out of the whole thing, but it was too late to stop and Mom insisted I still go to the party.

And so at 6:30 exactly, I stood at the end of the curved driveway leading to Suzanne’s house, dressed in best coven fashion as a very over-the-top witch.

Second choice had, of course, been a demon, but Meira had dibs on that one.

I made it up the fresh asphalt behind a couple of other kids dressed like the king and queen of hearts. I recognized them from the halls at school. They checked me out, but didn’t say hello, so I tried to ignore them. I admired the huge house with its perfect manicured lawn and weedless flowerbeds. We never lived in a beautiful new house. For some reason, probably something to do with power, Mom always chose a home older than dirt. I loved the bright yellow door and tried to imagine it on my house as I trailed along behind the pair of playing cards. I shook my head at the image. Something so cheerful on a house of magic? Not in my mother’s lifetime. And, despite the huge Hayle fortune keeping the coven safe, we never showed off our wealth. Suzanne’s parents obviously didn’t have a problem flaunting what they had with such a massive place.

I walked into the huge, bright entry hung with fake spider webs and wispy ghost shapes. The whole thing was ridiculous in the polished, sunny room, somehow fake and cheap, oddly enough, like someone tried too hard to be scary and cool at the same time.

No surprises there, I guess.

I was met with music and a mass of people dressed up in their best and worst. A group of cheerleaders—how original—gathered in the center of the room around the punch bowl and food trays. I saw Page detach from the crowd and come over to me, smiling brightly. Thick white paint covered her face. There was an artful bullet hole in her forehead. Blood spilled over her jersey and I noticed as I glanced at the rest of the squad they had various wounds splashed in red all over them.

“We’re dead cheerleaders,” Page giggled. “Isn’t that cool?”

I tried to smile.

“Yeah, Page. Wow, cool.”

“It was Suzanne’s idea,” she giggled again. “She is so amazing, not like Alison.”

“I guess,” I answered. “Big party.”

She grabbed my arm and started pulling me toward the table. “Yeah, isn’t it awesome? And the best part is, Suzanne’s parents aren’t even home. Wicked, huh?”

“Yeah, wicked,” I said. I seemed to be able to do little more than repeat her last word or two. The party was my first and with everything that happened to me in the past week, it was overwhelming. I dodged and wove in between people over the shiny marble floor while Page simply seemed to glide along without trouble.

We arrived at the buffet. I winced at the bright orange and black tablecloth, the cookies shaped like eyeballs and witch's fingers. Why was Halloween so hideously embarrassing? When I finally tore my eyes away from the culinary horror spread out on the table, I noticed I was surrounded by zombie cheerleaders. For some, it was actually an improvement. Suzanne smiled at me, but it never reached her eyes and I knew I was only there because Page invited me.

“Nice costume, Syd,” Suzanne looked me up and down. I was a witch, of course. What else could I be? The zombies giggled.

“You too,” I answered, resisting the urge to adjust my huge, floppy hat with dangling spider. Classy in comparison, really. “Very original.”

Why she thought it was a compliment I have no idea but for once my smart mouth didn’t get me in trouble. The exact opposite, in fact. Suzanne preened.

“Cool, right?” She twirled around, showing off the knife in her back leaving a trail of blood on her jersey and short skirt.

“Yeah,” I said. “Cool.”

“Punch?” She offered me a glass. I smelled alcohol.

“No thanks,” I said. There was no way my first experience with liquor would be with this crowd.

“Suit yourself,” she sniffed. “Girls?” Suzanne gathered up her posse and moved off. Page joined them, giving me an apologetic look before leaving.

I stood next to the table of terror, feeling lost and more than a little uncomfortable. Not only was I decked out in finest Miriam Hayle fashion with my sparkly tights and patent leather shoes, but no one would meet my eyes for very long and despite my occasional stabs at striking up a conversation, my awkward attempts to fit in made it painful.

At least I wasn’t the only one who looked like their mother dressed them.

Only a half hour in, I convinced myself I was leaving when I heard my name. I turned around and Brad stood there, tipping his black cowboy hat at me and grinning.

“Well, howdy, Miss Syd,” he drawled. “Fancy meeting