Page 37 of The Seven Miracles of Beatrix Holland
“You can burn it, or you can trace it in salt, or there are about a thousand other things you can do.”
“What’s the fastest way?”
Something small—maybe disappointment?—flickered over Minna’s face, but she said, “Just put your hand on the word, close your eyes, and push energy and intention into it.”
So, feeling like the idiot Astrid said she was, Beatrice touched the paper and closed her eyes.
When she opened them, she was not flying.
She was not floating.
She felt nothing, which wasexactlywhat she’d expected, after all.
All of this was ridiculous. What was she, some kind of child, to even hope for a moment that magic was real? Because she could admit—she had thought about it for the flutter of a half second.What if…
But no.
The others still looked expectant, though, and she was almost embarrassed for them. “Well, that was fun.”
She swatted at the bug that buzzed around her head. It landed on the piece of paper, right on theF.
A fly.
Minna squeaked, and Cordelia laughed.
“Oh, come on.” They didn’t really believe that was anything more than a coincidence, did they? “That’s hilarious. But it doesn’t mean anything. You know that, right?”
Minna gave an honest-to-god chortle. “You drew the fly. Get it? You drew it anddrewit.”
With a flick of her wrist, Beatrice shooed away the fly before picking up the pen again. She wound the letters around the other ones:BUTTER. Then she sat back. “So. You think abutterflywill land on this now?”
Astrid poked the table with a stern finger. “Put the energy in and see what happens.”
Beatrice exhaled heavily but did it, holding her finger to the word and attempting to push energy (whatever that meant) into it.
Then she leaned back in her chair. She looked into the dark wooden beams overhead, to the heavy red velvet curtains that Cordelia had drawn when night fell. “I see no butterflies.”
Crash.
Wordlessly, all four rose.
Shattered blue-and-white crockery lay smashed on the tile of the kitchen floor, yellow butter smeared against the shards.
With a bark of laughter, Cordelia began picking up the pieces. “Well, I wasn’t expectingthat, but I love it. Except for the broken dish part. I did like this one.” From her crouch, she met Beatrice’s gaze. “You have to admit it’s funny.”
Beatrice couldn’t admit anything—her brain was going into free fall, somersaulting through space.
She backed out of the room, retreating to the dining area. With one hand, she propped herself against the table.
“The fly.”
Minna propped open the door of the kitchen with her boot. “Yep.”
“The butter flew.”
Astrid didn’t even look like she wanted to gloat. “It did.”
“Was that—was that amiracle?” If it was, if they really did exist, then would that mean she had only four miracles left before shedied? Holy shit—
