The family didn’t expect her until tomorrow. Sam, at least, would be pleased by her arrival and demand a rematch. She disarmed him while fencing at her Grandpop’s birthday bash three weeks back and won fifty bucks. Sam had to run laps. The loser always ran laps. Sam wasn’t the only one to lose a bout that weekend, but he complained the loudest.
     Sabine lost her fencing match against Pop. She’d never seen anyone beat the tough old bird. George Walker was nearing seventy and still had a six-pack. Once a soldier, always a soldier. After defeating her, Pop joined her on her jog around the pasture so she could tell him about school, boys, roommate frustrations, and life in general. He wasn’t a talker, but he was a great listener.
     Pop’s ranch was the only place her mother didn’t hover, trusting the cousins to keep Sabine out of trouble. With the cousins, she’d been free to rock climb, go whitewater rafting, parasailing, and bungee jumping. Alone, her mom freaked out if Sabine was fifteen minutes late from school.
     Sabine never understood her mother’s logic. Despite Sabine’s excellent school record, self-defense activities, and athletic performance on her family's many adventure trips, her mom still couldn’t trust her to protect herself. It was mind-boggling that she trusted Sam to take care of Sabine rather than the other way around since Sam thought responsibility was a dirty word.
     Sabine took a deep breath and let the hurt slide away. It didn’t matter. She was going to Pop’s on Halloween. It would be a perfect night, and she needed to blow off some steam. The closer she got to the family party, the less it bothered her that Ian stood her up. A Walker family party beat drunk frat boys any day.
     Sabine’s mom wasn’t a cook, but she’d decorate with streamers, balloons, and enough spider webs to blanket the house, barn, and pool house. Nana would make her famous potato salad, baked beans, and a few different kinds of vegetables. Each cousin was assigned a side and would crow over their Halloween culinary skills. The table would groan under pumpkins puking guacamole, bat and coffin shaped empanadas, pumpkin chili in bread bowls, and a plastic skeleton covered in cold cuts.
     Aunt Pauline owned a bakery in town and would bring caramel and chocolate-dipped apples, pies, and cakes. Pop always manned the grill in the pool house where he could keep an eye on everyone. Costumes or not, someone would get shoved in the deep end, and everyone would join in the water fight while Monster Mash played over the speaker system.
     Sabine smiled as she pulled into her parents’ driveway, empty now. Various trees surrounded the two-story log cabin in full autumn splendor. Under them were fake tombstones made from plywood and Styrofoam. Ghostly green light showcased bony limbs clawing their way from the grave. Her parents were at Pop’s ranch helping to set up, so the porch light was off.
     She let herself in, dropped her purse and keys on the hall table, and got a bottle of water from the fridge. Tess Gentry, Sabine’s mother, staged houses for a living. She was very good at her job. Every detail was carefully orchestrated, from the arrangement of the scarecrow-themed throw blanket on the back of the couch to the fall wreaths and flower arrangements. Thanks to a wax warmer on the counter, it smelled like cinnamon and apple. The rest of the house was decorated in a southwest motif with pottery from a local artist. Tex, the orange tabby cat, stretched and curled around to a more comfortable position before returning to sleep.
     Sabine hurried up to the attic where her mother’s old trunk was stored. The varnished wood floor was covered in dust and boxes with decorations for every holiday known to man. It’d been a while since Sabine had seen the trunk, but she found it hidden at the back of a pile of Christmas decorations. The gnarled cedar was smooth and well-varnished. “Contessa Walker” was engraved on a bronze plate over the lock. Sabine reached for the latch and yanked her hand back as a shock ran up her arm. She shook her hand, hoping the static electricity heralded a decent thunderstorm. Sam wouldn’t fence in the rain. He liked his creature comforts too well, something she’d pointed out to him last time when he lost. That’s what came from only fighting people he knew he could beat.
     She lifted the lid, enjoying the warm cedar smell as she pulled out a gold brocade Elizabethan gown. The hand-tatted lace, mother-of-pearl buttons, and gold thread detailing were stunning, but the costume beneath it also caught her eye. Grinning, Sabine pulled out a full pirate costume, piece by piece. It wasn’t a cheap knockoff. Sharpened replica swords and well-worn leather boots matched the leather bodice and broadcloth breeches for authenticity, but that wasn’t all. Like a treasure hunter, Sabine gave in to curiosity and dug deeper. She found a Southern Belle gown like Scarlet O’Hara wore in the opening scene of Gone with the Wind. It was complete in every detail, minus the hoop skirt that would never have fit in the trunk. Considering the amount of fabric, she was stunned that the trunk managed to hold everything.
     Under the Southern belle getup was a steampunk costume that was to die for. The copper and black striped skirt, white ruffled blouse, and black satin and lace bodice were accessorized by period weapons, a top hat, and goggles. She was definitely going steampunk.
Sabine’s organized mother had attached the corresponding jewelry to every outfit in a sandwich bag, but Sabine spotted a clock gear earring on the bottom of the box that must have fallen out. She reached for it and froze as the false bottom slid to the side. Curious, she examined the outside of the box. The panel had no space to slide anywhere. It looked like a magic show prop, like a bunny hides in the false bottom and pops out at the right moment to astonish the crowd.
     Sabine’s mom, Tess Gentry, was a practical person in every way. Halloween was a family tradition, but Sabine wasn’t even allowed to watch Disney flicks with magic for the rest of the year. Sabine got a lecture if she joked about superstitions like bad luck for breaking a mirror or knocking on wood. Psychics, ghosts, aliens, crop circles, if it couldn’t be scientifically proven, it didn’t exist or was a hoax cooked up by con artists and thieves.
     How could her mother explain the chest, or the large leather-bound book labeled “The Walker Family Grimoire”? Curious, Sabine hefted the book from the trunk. The pages were in good condition, each decorated with intricate borders in bold colors accented with gold leaf. The script, hand-drawn in calligraphy, was Nana’s work. It matched the Christmas and birthday cards Nana gave out each year.

My Darling Tess,
     Congratulations on passing your trials. We are so proud. Remember that magic can open doors, but your mind and heart will always help you walk the paths before you. Live the Walker code, find your passion, and trust yourself. There are predators, and there are prey. A witch must walk the line between them on equal footing with the immortal races. We taught you to survive on your own, but you are never alone. We will always be here if you need us.
     This is a copy of the family grimoire. It is more than just the family spells. Pay attention to the notes left by your ancestors through the generations. What works best, unexpected complications in a casting, lessons hard-won—these notes could save your life. So, study well, prepare for the worst, and live for the best every day.
     We love you,
     Mom and Dad

      “You have got to be kidding me.” Sabine was sure her head would explode. It had to be a joke...but the words sounded like Nana. Witches? Immortal races? Magic? Like real magic? She turned the page, half expecting Nana to say, “Just kidding.” Instead, Sabine read the section headings:

• Magical Theory
• About The Immortal Races
• Meditation and Focus Drills
• Seers: The Many Forms of Passive Magic
• Casters: Magic Manipulation
• Wild Magic: Focused Talents
• Containment, Wards, and Protection Spells
• Healing Potions and Spells
• Household Spells and Enchantments
• Relics: The History and Creation of Magical Objects
• Transformation: Altering the Structure & Nature of Matter
• Creation: Calling Matter and Magic Together to Form Something New
• Battle Magic: Defensive & Offensive Spells
• Memory: Make Mortals Forget and Block Psychic Attacks
• Story Walking: Explore the Worlds of Fiction

     Sabine flipped through a few pages. She saw ingredient lists, incantations, instructions on performing each spell, and how it should look if it functions correctly. Each spell also had troubleshooting notes if the spell didn’t go to plan. There were drawings of creatures she’d never seen, their strengths, weaknesses, social customs, and laws.
     Unsettled by the elaborate nature of the book, Sabine laid it aside. She looked deeper into the hidden compartment. There were several leather-wrapped bundles. Inside one, she found a neat array of liquids, powders, and herbs in identical glass tubes with cork stoppers. The next held tools, including a silver knife with strange markings carved into the handle, a mirror, an arrowhead, chalk, a stone mortar and pestle, a silver bowl, and crystals of various colors. The last bundle held her mother’s journal, a bundle of letters from Nana, and a stack of family pictures. Of her.
     Sabine held one up. She was maybe three years old and sitting on Pop’s lap while a three-masted ship hovered over their heads. Baby Sabine pointed at it in wonder while Pop laughed. There were several pictures of the cousins standing around what looked like a miniature dragon belching purple flame. The photograph was labeled “Sabine’s first drake hunt.” Another picture showed her dad standing in the backyard covered in sparrows while more pecked at the seed he threw on the ground. Photo after photo showed a life she’d experienced but didn’t remember.
     Sabine skimmed through her mother’s journal.

Mom gave me this journal to record Sabine’s life. Today, my little girl was born. She’s perfect, from her fuzzy black head to her ten little pink toes. How can anyone love someone so completely they just met? Thanks to Cozy’s cure, I’m no longer sore and could visit with the family. The Gentries came to see their precious caster. I’d hoped a child would make them kinder to Dave. They can be so rude, even to their own son. I’d have kicked them out, but Dave is nicer than me.

     Sabine skipped to the end of the journal to see the time frame the journal covered. Sabine could go months without writing in her diary. The last entry was Sabine’s fifth birthday.

     Sabine failed the test. She’s not a caster, and she’s not a seer. I knew some families had broken bloodlines, but it’s never happened to the Walkers before. The Gentries were there. They accused me of cheating on Dave. They said they hired a seer who told them I’d have a caster if Dave married me. They threatened to force a DNA test. Dave refused. He walked away from his family but wouldn’t even look at me on the ride home.
     Oh, stars, I don’t know what to do. Sabine will be completely defenseless. The thought of her stumbling on a demon in the dark terrifies me. How do humans do it? They have no idea what monsters stalk the night; that’s how.
     The coven will be brutal. Poor Callie stood there with her boyfriend Seth, and Seth’s parents came and pulled him away as if she had some dread disease. No witch family will mix bloodlines with us now.
     Was it me? Did I do this to us? Did I do this to my daughter? The children will be horrible to Sabine, picking up their parents' prejudices. If she doesn’t have any magic, does she even have to go to coven meetings? Does she have to be part of the coven at all? What if she doesn’t know about magic? What if she grows up human? At least she wouldn’t live forever with the thought that she was broken. If we moved out of the area, we could pull it off. I’d have to take Sabine’s memories, or she is bound to say something about magic in her classes. She’ll start kindergarten this year. Maybe it would be better if she never remembers magic.
We’ll have to stop practicing in the house. None of the family can do magic around her. I can live human, right? I mean, I can use magic at work, or I’ll fall behind, but nothing where Sabine might see. I’ll put everything away. We won’t touch it again. I’ve got to find Dave.

     Sabine closed the journal while her stomach churned. Her mother evidently decided to go through with her plan to take Sabine’s memories. Broken. That’s what her mom called her.
     Sabine dropped the journal and looked deeper into the trunk. She found six paperbacks, each with her mother on the cover, wearing a costume from the trunk. So, she was a witch and a cover model? As Sabine looked inside the books, they all started the same. “Using the Story Walking spell, Tess pricked her finger, rubbed the blood on the ring, and turned it, transporting herself into the pages of fiction.” That’s when Sabine remembered the last chapter of the grimoire. “Story Walking: Explore the Worlds of Fiction.”
     “Blood on a ring, what ring?” she muttered, determined to know the truth. After searching the trunk’s contents again, she found the ring in the bundle of tools. It was a simple gold ring without embellishment. Looking at all the evidence spread around her, her chest felt tight. She pulled out her cell and dialed Sam’s number with trembling hands.
     “Hey, Trouble,” Sam greeted her with his mouth full.
     “Tell me I’m not crazy,” she said as she wiped the attic dust from her hands.
     “You’re not crazy,” he said after swallowing. “Are you sure you don’t want to come tonight? You know the family will be up till dawn, and you still have time to get here. You owe me a rematch. I think you’re just trying to get out of paying me back.”
     She took a breath and blurted, “Are my parents witches?”
     She wanted him to laugh at her. Instead, he choked on whatever he was eating and coughed hard for several seconds. “Where did you hear that?” The higher pitch was a clear indication of stress, his usual tell.
     Sabine closed her eyes as Sam confirmed her fears. “Tell me magic doesn’t exist.”
     “Sabine,” he cleared his throat and tried again when his voice cracked. “Who’s been filling your head with...”
     "One of these days, you all will have to explain how you justify lying to me with the Walker Code.”
     “Wait. Where are you? I’ll come get you, and we’ll talk.”
     “So, you can take my memories again?”
     Silence.
     “That’s what I thought.” She hung up and took the battery from her phone. Her Mother had a habit of tracking her phone, and Sabine needed time to think things through. She needed to think of a way to keep them from stealing her memories again, even if it meant never going home. Well, maybe not never, but she needed a break, some space, and she knew just where to go.
     She retrieved her bag and stuffed the grimoire, journal, and letters inside. Then she put on the ring. Last chance to turn back, she thought, hesitating, but she’d come too far. She used the silver knife to prick her finger, rubbed a drop of blood on the gold, chose a book at random, and turned the ring.
     She sucked in a startled breath as her stomach lurched and reality shifted. The wooden floor of the attic disappeared. She sat on a smooth, tiled floor in a dark hallway. “Crap,” she scrambled to her feet. Magic was real. Her family lied to her. Sabine blinked back tears.
Someone close by let out a shrill whistle, making her jump. Realizing that fictional people stood on the other side of the door, people brought to life by magic; curiosity got the better of her. She sniffed and rubbed her hands together nervously. She might as well explore. Then, she would sit down and finish the letters before confronting her family.

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