Page 91 of Bewicched

“A feeling. Right.” Serena looked like she was about to throw a punch and then Calliope moved in and wrapped an arm around her sister’s waist.

“Sorry,” she said, wiping tears off her cheek. “We’re all drowning in grief right now.”

I nodded my understanding. “I’m very sorry. I feel it too.” I ran my fingers over the handbag chain, trying to figure out how to offer condolences while still getting to Gran.

“That’s my bag. You bitch, how did you get my bag?” Serena’s eyes narrowed. “What? Are you going through my closets when I’m not around?”

I looked down at the beautiful little bag that I’d never worn because it seemed too special. “Your mom gave it to me for my birthday years ago.”

“Liar,” she spat.

Leaning in, voice low, I said, “I’m very sorry about your mother. You’ll never understand just how much I’ll miss her, but I’m done taking your shit. E-nough. Do you hear me? Enough. I’m not this family’s goddamn punching bag.”

I moved around the sisters and Serena reached out, grabbed the bag, and yanked hard. The chain bit into my neck and then snapped.

“Do you like it, honey? I thought it was so pretty.” Sylvia waits for Serena’s reaction.

“Uh, yeah, it’s nice. I was just hoping for the sparkly red one I showed you in the store window. I’m just not really a black bag kind of person.” She looks at her mother’s crestfallen expression. “I mean it’s super cute, but you should keep it. It would look good on you.”

Sylvia nods, taking the little black handbag back. “When I went to get the red one for you, they were sold out. They had pink and green. I just thought the black was nicer.”

“Pink? I didn’t see pink. Perfect. Let’s take that one back and exchange it for pink, okay?” Serena’s face glows at the thought of a little pink bag.

Sylvia isn’t going to exchange this one, though. She realizes she’s made a mistake. She was thinking about Arwyn when she bought it and her niece has a birthday coming up. “Sure. We’ll go tomorrow.”

“Arwyn, honey, are you okay?”

My eyes fluttered open. Uncle John. Oh, thank goodness I wasn’t on the ground. He was tall, like Declan, though not as broad. I wrapped my arms around him, resting my head on his chest. “I’m so sorry, Uncle John. I loved her so much.”

“I know you did, sweetie,” he said, rubbing my back. “And she loved you like you were her own.”

I squeezed him and stepped back, wiping at my eyes. “And she loved you with her whole heart.”

He nodded. “I know it. She always made sure I knew it.” He wiped at his own eyes and then he smiled. “Hey, you’re wearing the earrings. She worried you didn’t like them since you never wore them.”

“Oh.” I looked around the room. People had moved back, thankfully. “I love them. They’re the nicest, most meaningful thing I own.”

He smiled more broadly at that.

“It’s just”—I gestured around the room—“other people were upset that my gift was so much more expensive than what others received at graduation.”

He laughed and shrugged. “Well, the fae aren’t known for being poor.”

“The fae?” What did the fae have to do with anything?

“Your dad wanted you to have those. Sybil wouldn’t pass them on, so he approached Sylvia, asking her to give them to you. I’ll tell you,” he said, glancing around the room. “Sylvia was nervous about going against her sister’s wishes, but she firmly believed you had a right to gifts from your father.”

I touched them. “These were from him? Aunt Sylvia met him? He was checking up on me, giving me a gift ten years ago?”

His smile slipped. “She didn’t tell you?”

I felt just as confused as he looked. “No. Everyone thought they were from Aunt Sylvia.”

Eyebrows raised, he said, “We couldn’t have afforded anything like that.” He glanced around the room, realizing people were watching and listening. “And that’s why everyone was so hostile when you walked in wearing the earrings.” He sighed. “Including my girls.” Patting my shoulder, he added, “I’ll explain it to the girls.”

Gran was still alone and I wanted to get to her, but he stopped me again. “Honey, you’re bleeding. Here. Let me help with that.” He knew not to touch me, so his hand hovered over the skin of my neck as he chanted soundlessly.

A teapot was on the table by Gran’s elbow. A teapot. Gran. On the patio. The vision came swimming back, sluggish and dark.Damn it!That demon was fucking with us, causing all this drama, getting people to step in front of me, trying to get me to forget why Gran alone on the patio was dire. Fucking demons!

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