Bewitched (Betwixt & Between #2) - Darynda Jones Page 0,81
It’s not like with a regular witch. Even one from a long line like mine.”
“So, all of my bad luck was just really my powers trying to break free?”
“Something like that.”
“Then explain . . . wait.” Some of what happened while I’d been writhing in pain on this very kitchen table came back to me. Astonishment rocketed through my body. “You tried to take it.”
“Take what, sweetheart?” She took another bite.
“The pain. The injuries from that asshole on the balcony. That’s what you and Roane were arguing about.”
She put her cup down. “He cheated. He got to you first.” She offered him an insincere glare. “I didn’t want him to have to go through that.”
“And you felt like you should?”
“Defiance, all of this is my fault. If I’d found another way, if I’d let you keep your powers, or knowledge of your powers, or trained you your whole life, none of this would be happening.”
“So, you have to martyr yourself as punishment?” Her self-banishment suddenly made sense. “Is that why you locked yourself in the basement? Why you stopped seeing the chief?”
“No.” She shook her head. A pink hue rose in her cheeks. She was never the kind to air her dirty laundry, but if ever there were a time to display a dirty thong or two, it was now. “I can assure you, sweetheart. That has nothing to do with any of this.”
“Then why? He’s devastated, Ruthie.”
She winced and set her jaw. “Talking about my issues is not getting us any closer to solving yours.”
“I have issues?”
“You’ve overtaken my copies of Good Housekeeping. But none of your issues are your fault.”
Annette flew into the kitchen like a tiny hurricane and landed on the counter next to my dads. “You are getting completely off subject,” she said in her strange voice. “We need to get back to the real issue at hand.”
My dad’s jaw fell open, as did Minerva’s. Papi dropped his fork.
“We will,” I said, “but I just want to know what’s going on with my grandmother.”
“I would like to know that too.” The chief stood in the hall, looking into the kitchen.
“I’m a bird.” Annette ruffled her feathers. “My problem should take precedence.” She lifted a wing to scratch under it with her pointy beak as Minerva slowly raised her phone.
The chief gawked at Annette and swayed, and I worried he would pass out. It was one thing to have a talking bird. It was quite another to have one that could provide intelligent conversation.
“Chief.” I jumped up to help him.
Roane joined me, and we led the chief to a chair at the table next to Minerva.
He pointed at the bird. “Is that . . . did she?”
“Yes. Remember when I told you there was more to the story?” I gestured to Annette with a furtive nod.
“Vogel abducted me,” she squawked. “And I’m certain my glasses are at the bottom of a pile of rubble.” Then she turned a murderous glare on me. “Not that they would fit on my beak anyway.”
My dads were still staring.
“Ruthie?” I circled back to my earlier point. “Why have you suddenly become a hermit?”
She brushed an invisible crumb off her dress. “I can’t do magic.”
“What?” I asked, stunned.
“I can no longer practice. My magic is gone.”
That wasn’t possible. “Ruthie, most witches don’t have inherent magic. They are simply sensitive to the unseen. Maybe you just need to start practicing again. It could come back to you.”
“Why? So I can make a love potion that does absolutely nothing?”
“Of course, not. Wait, does that mean there are love potions that do absolutely something?”
I couldn’t help a glance at my intended target. He folded his arms over his chest.
“Oooo.” Annette’s awe was more caw, but the sentiment was there. She was just as interested as I was.
“You don’t understand,” Ruthie said. “I haven’t figured out how to live without my magic. I’m having a hard time adjusting. I’ll get over it, it’ll just take a while.”
And here I was complaining about having so much power when Ruthie had none. “Gigi, I had no idea what you were going through.”
“My dear, you have had more than your share of things to worry about. My paltry problems are—”
“Paltry?” I scooted closer to her. “You think this is paltry?”
“I do. I didn’t want to burden you with it.”
“You’ve really lost your powers?”
“I have. I’ve done everything. Scoured ancient texts. Consulted witches older and far wiser than myself.”
“I doubt that.” That came out wrong. “I meant the wiser part.”