Page 33 of Impractical Magic

A pair of headlights swept across the darkness: Nate’s truck. The sisters waited as he parked and ambled over to join them. “Evening, everybody. Thanks for letting me join your Scooby-Doo gang for the evening.”

“We’re breaking a fairly serious rule here,” Delilah noted.

Scarlett rolled her eyes. “It’s a stupid rule—Nate’s not Handsome Bill, for crying out loud. He’s not going to hurt anything.”

“Don’t worry,” Nate assured the sisters. “Whatever you folks say goes. I’m happy just to be able to join you up there. I promise I won’t get in the way.”

Delilah emitted a little “humph” and headed up the hill first, with Luna behind. Scarlett and Nate hung back, then began the climb side by side.

“Beautiful clear night,” he said.

“Cold, though.” Scarlett hunched her shoulders against the chill—a typical posture for her in San Francisco. But here in Oak Haven, the imperfect weather was just another sign that something was wrong.

“Yeah,” he agreed. “Cooler than usual. But just look at those stars.”

It was a clear, cloudless evening, and the sky was positively crowded with stars, like a glittering carpet almost close enough to touch.

“Yeah,” Scarlett said. “We never get stars like this in San Francisco, too much light pollution. Hey, remember when we used to sit on the roof of your dad’s store and stargaze?”

“And you’d make up rude stories about the constellations.”

“Oooh, Orion,” Scarlett said in a sexy baby voice, “what are you doing with that belt?”

Nate laughed. “Yep, that’s what I remember . . .”

When the group reached the grove’s edge, Delilah suggested they conjure some light. “Be careful,” she advised. “Nothing complicated.”

“You okay with little old me using magic, Del?” Scarlett asked.

“Not really,” Del shot back. “But go on, surprise me.”

Luna conjured an antique lantern. Delilah turned the palm of her hand into a flashlight while Scarlett cast a torch that filled the space around her with flickering fire.

“Scarlett!” Luna gasped. “What are you doing?”

Delilah shook her head. “You’re so bad at this, Scar.”

“What?! What’d I do now?”

“You’re gonna bring open flame into a grove of ancient trees in the middle of autumn,” replied Delilah. “That sound like a good idea to you? Sparks everywhere? Are you completely stupid or what?”

“There’s no sparks,” Scarlett said defensively, “look how clean this casting is! And I won’t drop it in a pile of leaves, for crying out loud.”

Delilah exhaled sharply and headed off into the grove alone.

“God, fine.” Scarlett extinguished her flame and turned to her younger sister for sympathy. “What is her problem tonight?”

“She was a little harsh.” Luna conjured a lantern for her sister, identical to her own. “But, Scar, it’s true that you can be careless with fire sometimes. Remember the time you decided to make s’mores in our bedroom? Hey, Delilah, wait for me!” Luna hurried after her older sister.

“Wow.” Nate chuckled. “You set a fire in your bedroom?”

“I was six. I mean, seriously?! Do I ever get to live that down?”

He laughed. “Probably not, no.”

***

The foursome made their way to a clearing in the middle of the oak grove. Moonlight filtered through the sparse branches, casting odd patterns on fallen leaves underfoot. A damp, earthy scent hung in the air, tinged with a trace of something sickly sweet, like overripe fruit. In the center of the clearing sat the great-granddaddy oak—the largest and eldest of all, the one that had greeted the founders of Oak Haven and had stood vigil over the town across all the centuries.