Caleb’s been exposed to a little bit, but if we have to do this — whatever this thing is again — it might scare him off too.
The living room feels almost gloomy after the magical brightness of the basement, and I blink a few times letting my eyes adjust.
Hazel’s sitting excitedly on the couch, propped up by pillows, her foot still elevated in front of her.
“What is it? What did you guys find?”
Caleb follows me up and sets the picture on the floor, leaning against one of the chairs.
“We found this,” Rose says.
“It’s that the four of us when we were little,” I tell them
“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Hazel says, rolling her eyes.
“We were calling the corners,” I say, my voice thick.
“What does that mean?” Hazel asks. “Why am I there if you’re doing that? We all know I don’t have any power.”
“That’s the thing, Hazel,” I say slowly. “You do.”
“Look at where you are. That’s right by the lighthouse, at Mist Point,” Posey says. “Look. You can see the corner of it in the very edge of the picture right there.”
Posey taps the glass.
Caleb nods slowly.
“Yeah. That’s the jetty behind my house.”
I like the way he calls it his house, even though back then it was his uncle’s.
I like the fact that he sees himself as living here again.
But how long will that last? How long will he actually want to stay here once he sees what it is my sisters and I are going to have to do? At least, it’s what I think we’re going to have to do.
Again.
My memory is foggy, but I have a sneaking suspicion I know exactly what that book Posey’s holding is going to say.
“Well, we know I don’t have any magic,” Hazel scoffs. “Or if I do, it’s completely messed up, just like everything else I touch.”
“That’s not true, Hazel,” Rose says.
“Yes, it is. We would have a familiar that wanted anything to do with me if I was strong enough of a witch to be able to sustain one. Much less my own magic.”
Gunner whines softly.
Hazel pets his head as he walks over to her.
“It’s not true, Hazel,” Gunner says.
“You guys can argue with me all you want, but I’m the living proof that I don’t have any power.”
“Look at that picture,” I interrupt her. “Stop feeling sorry for yourself and look. Look at your hand. Look at your eyes. You have power, Hazel.”
I feel sick to my stomach as a realization hits me.
“And I think I know why you haven’t been able to tap into it since.”
