Page 85 of Impractical Magic

“Exactly! So . . . I think . . . what I did . . . I’m not sure about this part. But I think I used to sit for hours, training myself. Just learning facts. You know, like, the Beatles’ first gig was at the Marquee Club in 1961.”

“So much for your training.” Scarlett frowned. “The Beatles’ first gig was at the Cavern Club. You’re thinking of the Stones.”

“Oh. Ah. Amnesia spell strikes again, I suppose.” Max blushed uncomfortably. “Still, you’re all ready for a visit, sounds like! Say, shall we order another round of drinks?”

“I don’t think so, Maxie Boy,” Delilah said, suddenly dropping into Bad Cop mode. “I have more questions. Tell us about the dragonflies.”

“Well, it, uh . . . sounds like you already know about the dragonflies.”

“Yeah,” she replied, her anger rising. “But what do you know, pal?!”

Scarlett subtly lifted her hand, as if to say, Okay, Del, cool it.

“Well, the plan going in—and, remember, I cannot testify to what actually occurred once I got there—but the plan was to infect their oak grove with these ancient magical flies that render their magic source unstable. That would cause chaos in the town, set witches against one another, presumably? While the women were distracted, we could focus on our trivia training and destroy the amnesia spell.”

“But this doesn’t make sense,” Scarlett mused. “The infestation makes the magic unusable. If you spoil the magic source, then what’s the point?”

“Exactly!” Delilah pounded the table repeatedly. “What do you gain, Max? What do you gain?”

Jesus, Scarlett thought, I’ve created an improv monster . . .

Max stared at the women, mystified. “We have a plan to fix it, obviously. From the beginning, the plan was that we’d be the heroes who came up with the cure. Those old biddies would be so happy to have their magic working, they probably wouldn’t even fight us on the Starbucks thing. We magicians could just take over. And then . . . wait . . . hang on! I just realized something . . . I’m sitting here. I left Oak Haven. So . . . maybe it’s done? Maybe it worked! Did it work?”

“It absolutely did not work,” Delilah said darkly.

“Yeah . . . yeah, I’m afraid you failed big time, buddy.” Scarlett gave her sister a subtle nod. Best to let Max assume the big plan had gone wrong. “The witches figured out the cure on their own.”

“Ohhh calamity,” Max said sadly. “Yes, that was always the potential weak point in our plan. That they’d suss it out before we were ready. Ah, well. So tell me, what did the cure turn out to be? The bosses wouldn’t say—I suppose they were afraid I would drop hints unintentionally. By any chance, was it blackbirds? Please tell me it was blackbirds.”

“Blackbirds?” Scarlett asked. “I don’t understand.”

“The oak grove is an ecosystem, no? Which means it’s all a big food web. Why do flies exist, really, except to become dinner for something bigger? We had a betting pool in the office, actually—we all wagered on which animal would be used to clear out the flies. I put all my money on blackbirds. A friend of mine bet on chuckwallas, which are some sort of desert lizard? I said to him, ‘Brian! Oak Haven is in New England. Why would it be desert lizards?’ But I don’t know . . . Brian just likes chuckwallas, I suppose. Now, Cindy the intern, she bet on bats—I thought that was clever. Witches, bats . . . would make sense . . .”

As Maximillian babbled on about his precious wager, Scarlett touched her sister’s hand. “We should get home right away, start conjuring predators,” she said quietly.

Delilah nodded. “Sounds like a good Luna job to me. Let’s get back.” She slid out of her side of the booth.

“Wait, where are you going?” asked Max.

“We’re busy.” Delilah shrugged. “And you bungled it. You failed. And those bosses you mentioned? Do they strike you as forgiving types? I suspect not so much.”

“Leave the bill,” Scarlett told her sister. “Take the rabbit.”

Delilah picked up Quentin’s cage and tucked it under her arm.

“Not Quentin, no,” begged Max. “Please . . . please don’t take my Quentin.”

“You keep him locked in a tiny cage all day. And then you took him to a bar. In Vegas, of all places. I think Quentin deserves better care than that, wouldn’t you agree? There’s more to a bunny’s life than being shoved into hats and pulled out of them again.”

“But I don’t understand . . .” Maximillian the Magnificent gazed around, suddenly as denuded of magic as a Jacksonville oak tree. “I mean . . . if the plan failed . . . and you’re leaving . . . what do I do now?”

Scarlett left the booth to stand beside her sister. “You fought witches, and the witches won. And in a situation like that, there’s really only one thing you can do.” She leaned over the table, and she stared into Max’s soul with witchy eyes full of fire. “Hide.”

Chapter 33: Cane Toads

Scarlett and Delilah let themselves into the shuttered Spice Girls Experience theater, traveled back through the portal, and found themselves returned safely to Max’s room. Delilah gently placed Quentin’s cage on the queen-sized bed and let him out. “I’m going to find you a much better living situation. No more of those ridiculous performances.” She gave him a good scratch behind his ears. “Don’t you worry, Q.”

They went downstairs to find the lobby dark and quiet—the actors must have knocked off for the evening, and many of the witches had gone home. Eventually the sisters found Mama, Luna, Aphra, and Priti, still huddled around a cast-iron table in the back garden, still trying to work out a solution to the town’s problems. Their worried faces were accentuated by the candlelight, but a happy cry went up when they saw Scarlett and Delilah returned.