Page 49 of Rebel Spell
My heart thudded.What magic? I’d just been sorting through boxes. I continued to read, hoping she’d explain it.
Now that thisheirloom is in your hands, you must take great care to protect it. It contains powerful spells collected by our family over centuries.
You may be wondering why I am leaving this in your care and why I left the house to you as well.
Well,yeah. That was only the tip of the mountain of questions.
If you’re readingthis letter, I most likely have moved on. And that means significant changes for you, beyond inheriting my property.
When you were a young girl, it was clear to see that you’d be a gifted witch. You could sense things others couldn’t. You could move objects without touching them. You were a natural at working with the elements and were fascinated with fire. The things you could do would frighten your parents, especially your father. He didn’t trust it.
I don’t know if you remember the accident with fire.
I wish I didn’t.Unfortunately, the worst memories tend to be the ones that stick, at least in fragments. It’s like walking into a fly trap. It’s almost impossible to pull off the damn strip, and once you do, the sticky residue lingers.
Nobody knowswhat you were trying to do, but whatever spell you called was powerful enough to generate fire. Unfortunately, it grew beyond your control. Your mother ran into your bedroom and rescued you just before the smoke would have smothered you both.
After the incident, your mother and I argued. Your parents wanted nothing to do with magic from that point on. They thought it was too dangerous. It had almost killed you.
I recognized what you had done as a sign of much magical talent. After all, fire is an element. Water is another, which can douse the flames. With the proper training, you could grow into a gifted witch who could help others, like many of your ancestors before you. Your parents disagreed. They thought I was trying to exploit you.
That was never the case. I always had your best interests in mind. You’re my niece, and I love you. But I don’t fault them for thinking that way. I’m not a parent, and I can’t imagine the instinct one feels to protect their child.
Your mother and I quarreled for weeks. She begged me to put a block on your magic to prevent you from using it. Eventually, I relented. Almost immediately afterward, I regretted it. We had a huge fight, and she ordered me to stay away from you. That’s why I was no longer part of your life. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be. I did. I got updates from friends over the years, but stayed away as your mother requested.
I don’t want you to blame your mother because every parent does what they think is best for their child, and she did it to protect you. But on my death, the block will break. You’re an adult. The choices you make from this point on will be yours and yours alone. You can choose to go on living the life you’ve had, which I’m very proud of. You were always such a voracious reader as a child, and I love how you’ve chosen to help other children discover a world of books.
But there’s another way as well. In this book, you’ll discover keys to help you develop your magic. And what you do with that is up to you.
Whatever you choose, be wary. Many who have craved power have searched for it throughout the centuries. You must keep this book from getting into the wrong hands.
If you do not want to follow this path, contact the Salem Supernatural Network. They will make arrangements to make sure it remains protected.
Blessed be,
Aunt Margaret
After I finished the letter,my mouth was open wide enough to catch a spider. I shut it and pressed my hand to my lips, feeling them tremble. So much unidentified emotion hurled through me.
I stood and paced in the round tower room, occasionally darting glances at the leather book. Wicked bats and flying monkeys, how could I process what I just read? I’d once been able to move things with my mind—that wasn’t possible.
Was it?
Raising my hands, I stared at them like they were foreign objects. She’d said when she died that the block on my magic would be lifted. I traced back to the day of her death. That was the day I’d felt that weird jolt on the train.
Had that been the moment that my magic returned to me?
Several minutes later,I gazed out the window as I paced in circles around the perimeter of the room. I still couldn’t believe what I read. The information flowed into and over me, threatening to drown me in its depth.
How could I parse through what I’d learned? What I’d been entrusted to protect?
I thought of my parents. The knee-jerk reaction was to lash out at them and askwhhhyyyyy?
But I understood what my aunt had explained. I’m sure saving your child from a fire would be traumatic and lead to taking drastic measures to avoid it ever happening again. But to make a huge decision like thatforme? That was taking it too far.
Once I became an adult, I should have been able to make my own decision regarding magic. Maybe I was reacting like a sullen teenager, but that’s how I felt—like a part of me had been taken away. Because it had been.
I glanced at the book. Just opening it had changed my life drastically with that one letter. What else was inside?
