What the Spell Part 1 (7 page)

“But don’t you think these gifts were given to us for a reason? Why would we have them if we weren’t supposed to use them?” I questioned. I felt like we were speaking two different languages.

“Of course you can use them, Brooklyn. We just want you to use them
wisely
,” my mom said. “History has shown that the more magic you use, the greater chance you have of people taking notice. And when that happens—well, it can be bad for everyone involved.”

“What are you talking about?”

My parents looked at each other and then my mom pulled out the same book that she’d been holding the night of my unbinding and stroked it gently. “Brooklyn, we know we don’t talk much about our magical history, but we think it’s time you learned about your ancestors and the . . . difficulties . . . that fell upon them.”

Mom was right about that. Trying to get my parents to discuss our family and their ties to witchcraft was like pulling teeth. Every time I’d asked a question in the past, they’d either changed the subject or told me I wasn’t old enough to hear it. It used to frustrate me to no end, because I thought they were just treating me like a kid. But now it seemed as if their motives might have been more complicated than that.

“How much do you know about the Salem witch trials, Brooklyn?” she asked me.

I wasn’t sure where this was going but didn’t bother saying so. The Salem witch trials had been too big a topic to ignore while I was growing up, because it was one of the only things my parents
had
shared with me concerning the witching world. Anything my parents had conveniently left out, I’d been able to learn from other twitches online who studied witch history in their coven classes.

“I only know what you’ve told me and what I’ve been able to find on the Internet,” I said. They nodded for me to continue, and I racked my brain for the details. To placate my parents, I regurgitated what I knew about this infamous time in our history. “Um, sometime in the late 1600s, a whole bunch of people in colonial Massachusetts were accused of practicing witchcraft. In the end, around twenty people were killed for allegedly being witches. Since then they’ve been exonerated to the nonwitching world, but we know from our own magical history that some of those who were killed actually
were
witches. Several were innocent bystanders.”

“Correct. And do you know what caused the hysteria in the first place?” I shook my head no. “Well, it all started when Samuel Parris, a member of the Cleri coven, became hungry for power. He wasn’t the most powerful of the group—that was Bridget Bishop—but he had aspirations to make the Cleri the most prominent coven in the witching world. When he realized that Bridget and most of the other Cleri didn’t feel the same way, he betrayed them by starting the rumor that they—and several other people in the town—were practicing witchcraft.”

“Why would he do that? Especially when it could come back to bite him in the—”

“As far as we know, Samuel Parris targeted the witches in the group that he knew wouldn’t fall in line with him. And he knew that if he just got the rumors started, the townspeople would take care of the rest,” she said. “You see, sweetie, power can be dangerous if put in the wrong hands.”

“Wait—let me get this straight. You think I’m gonna go all power crazy like that jerk-wad Parris and sell other witches out?” I was starting to become a bit hysterical, but could you blame me? From the sound of it, my own parents were
comparing me to a murderous, lying psycho. I couldn’t help but be hurt. “Geez, I’ve had my powers for, like, a day, and you’ve already got me starting the next witch trials? Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“That’s not it at all,” Dad cut in. “You’re missing the point of the story. Samuel wanted the power so badly that he was willing to do
anything
to get it. We’re just saying that the more you use your powers, the more attention you’ll draw to yourself. And the more attention you draw to yourself, the more dangerous things can get. Not everyone has a heart like yours. And people can still be very afraid of things they don’t understand.”

“It’s been over four hundred years since the Salem witch trials. Don’t you think people have evolved a little? I mean, think of how popular vampires, werewolves, and zombies are nowadays. You don’t think people would be psyched to find out there are
actual
witches out there? No way would people have the same reaction today that they did back then.”

My parents shot each other a look.

“Did Grandma Sparks ever talk to you about her sister Evelyn?” Dad asked. As if on cue, Mom opened the book that was lying on her lap and then passed it over to me. The page was full of photos, all black-and-white and old-looking. The first showed two kids, both in little white dresses, bangs pulled back on top of their heads. The taller of the two was smiling, but the other wore a frown.

The progression of pictures showed the two girls growing up. One captured the younger child making a funny face at the camera while her sister’s back was turned. Another showed the two facing each other, arms outstretched and appearing to concentrate. I had a sneaking suspicion the camera had caught them midspell in that one. The last was of both of the girls, just a little bit older, hugging each other tightly.

I shook my head. “I didn’t know Grandma had a sister,” I said quietly, continuing to study the pages. “Why didn’t she say anything?”

My dad cleared his throat and fidgeted in his seat. “Well, I imagine talking about Evelyn made her a bit . . . sad,” he said finally. “See, Evelyn was younger than Grandma Sparks by several years, but she was always the more outgoing of the two of them. She had big dreams—plans to go out to Hollywood one day—and she wasn’t one to shy away from a challenge.”

“She sounds pretty cool,” I said, smiling as I turned to a picture of Evelyn blowing a kiss to the camera.

“You’re actually like her in a lot of ways,” he said. By the tone of his voice, it didn’t seem that he was all too happy about this. “Evelyn adored magic. She loved casting and wasn’t ashamed of it. She thought spells should be used for just about everything, even if it was something simple she could have done herself. But the ease with which she used magic made her careless, and before long, she was doing spells in public.”

“Until finally, one day, someone caught her,” he said sadly.

“What happened?” I was almost scared to hear the rest of the story, but at this point, I was totally sucked in.

“She must have thought no one was watching when she did the summoning spell that day, but she was wrong. Someone
was
watching. A reporter, and he wanted to expose Evelyn to the world. When he confronted her, she realized what she’d done and tried to dissuade him. She told him he was seeing things. That he needed a good night’s sleep. That it was just a trick of the light. But he wasn’t a fool. He knew what he’d seen and he knew that breaking the news that magic actually existed would change his life.

“Evelyn managed to get away from the reporter and fled in her car, but he eventually caught up with her. He pulled up
next to her in his car, honking his horn and swerving to try and get her to stop and talk to him, but she refused. Finally, the reporter came up with a plan. He figured that if she really
was
a witch, he could push her off the side of the road and she would have to perform another spell in order to save herself. And when she did that, he would have proof of her abilities and then would have something to go to his editor with.

“So he sideswiped her car. The first time, Evelyn managed to swerve and missed the brunt of the impact, but when he did it again, the road had narrowed and there was nowhere for her to go. This time, the car broke through the guardrail and careened down an embankment before slamming into a tree. The reporter grabbed the bulky video camera that he kept in the trunk of his car at all times and rushed down the hill to the car, slipping and sliding the whole way. When he finally got to the bottom, the car had caught on fire and the flames were spreading quickly. He peered through the fumes and saw Evelyn just waking up. Her head was bleeding and she seemed dazed. She began to panic, realizing what had happened, and pulled at her door and seat belt to no avail. The guy yelled at her to use her magic to get out, but by this time she was too hysterical to listen. Instead, she just kept trying to claw her way out. Finally, the two locked eyes, him behind his camera and her behind the flames and glass. There was a moment on the film where it looked like Evelyn was about to do something. Say something. A spell most likely. But it was too late. As they sat there looking at each other, the car blew up.”

Something wet hit my hand and I looked down. I hadn’t even realized I’d been crying. I wiped my face hastily and waited on the rest of the story.

“So, she died? All because of some guy’s career?” I asked, disgusted.

“Power can drive even the sanest person to do insane things. It’s an incredible motivator,” my mom said. I saw that her eyes were red and gave her a sympathetic look.

“How do we know all of this?”

“Well, after Evelyn’s death, the reporter went on trial for her murder and that’s what came out during the case. They even used the footage he’d taken that day as evidence. Grandma Sparks and the rest of the family were there and, based on what they knew about Evelyn, realized their biggest fear had come to fruition.”

“What happened to the reporter?” I asked, balling up my fists. “I hope he got what was coming to him.”

“Well, considering his whole defense was built on the fact that he claimed Evelyn to be a witch, they found him incompetent to stand trial and sent him away to spend the rest of his life in a mental health facility. From what we know, he stayed there until he died, living with what he did that day and being tormented by the fact that nobody believed him.”

We sat there in silence for a few minutes as the story hit each of us differently. Finally I spoke. “Good. I’m glad he suffered. What he did was horrible and irresponsible and—”

“And none of it would have happened if Evelyn hadn’t been so careless with her gifts,” my dad said gently.

“You’re blaming
her
for what happened?!”

“He’s not
blaming
her, sweetie. We’re just trying to make you see that magicking is a big responsibility. One that shouldn’t be taken lightly, or abused. Our history has shown that using your powers too much can become dangerous. That’s why we raised you in a low-magic household. We just want you to be safe.”

Logically I could see that she and Dad truly believed what they were saying, but as far as I was concerned, they were going overboard. They’d never been comfortable with letting
me use my powers, and they were still trying to control me. And despite the horrible story I’d just heard, the way they babied me made me want to scream.

“First off, just because a few people had bad experiences using their gifts doesn’t mean I’m going to make the same mistakes,” I said, trying my best to keep my voice even. “And second, that was, like, fifty years ago. A lot’s changed since then. I think people are more open to different lifestyles. I mean, Harry Potter has his own theme park.”

“Harry Potter’s not real,” my mom reminded me, sounding annoyed. “And even Harry had his enemies. Prejudice and fear are still very much alive today, Brooklyn. Our family isn’t prepared to take on that kind of battle.”

“Nor do we want to,” Dad said firmly. “Look, Brook, the bottom line is this: we’re not saying you have to stop using your magic. Though we don’t necessarily agree with all the decisions you make in that respect, we promised that you could use your powers once you turned sixteen. And we will keep that promise, unless we think you’re endangering yourself or others. We just want you to think about how you’re using your gifts and understand that there can be serious consequences to your actions.”

“I got it. Restraint good, magic spree bad,” I said.

“We’re serious about this, Brooklyn,” Dad warned.

“So am I. Really. I get what you’re saying and I promise I’ll be more careful with my spells in the future.”

Luckily, being more careful didn’t mean I had to quit entirely. I could be careful while still having fun, for sure.

Walking into school the next day wasn’t as much of a shell shock as it had been the day before. I was even getting used to the way people looked at me. It was easier to tune out the whispers and pointing now. Even the little voice in my head that used to tell me that everyone was saying negative things behind my back began to get quieter.