Page 98 of The Glittering Edge

“I saw them at the diner one night. They were sitting on the same side of a booth. I knew something was up.”

The image fills Penny’s mind: her mom sneaking off to meetHelen in the middle of the night, stealing moments together whenever they could.

She glances at Dylan, who seems fine. She’s sitting calmly, hands in her lap, eyes straight ahead.

“How much do you know about the Barrion curse?” Penny asks.

“I don’t know anything about a curse,” Dylan says.

“What about magic?”

Dylan takes a longer pause this time, as if she’s digging through her memories to find the one that will answer this question. “I know it’s… bad.”

“Do you know that you’re a witch?”

“Yes,” Dylan says.

Penny pushes on, her voice shaking. “What’s the history of the Barnhardt coven?”

“We moved to Idlewood two hundred years ago from the Netherlands. People back then could recognize witchcraft quickly, and this town was full of people who didn’t want us here. My family tried to keep to themselves, but eventually, a member of the coven was beaten and murdered in the middle of the night. Someone carved the letterWinto her chest.”

“Oh god,” Penny whispers.

“My whole family gave up magic completely. My great-great-grandmother married a mortal and took his name. I found her diaries. She wanted everyone to forget about the Barnhardts, and the last time she used magic was to suppress the memories of the other residents of Idlewood. One by one, she visited their homes at night and whispered spells into their dreams.”

“And it worked?”

“Yes.”

Penny’s throat is tight. “I’m sorry,” she says, and she means it. Their history is more tragic than she expected, and guilt creeps in—guilt that Penny is forcing Dylan to repeat these horrible things, to share secrets against her will.

Not that Dylan would feel bad about this. Which brings Penny to her next question.

“And… what do you think about witches? About magic?”

Dylan shrugs. “I don’t know.”

“So you’ve never done magic?”

“I’ve tried. But nobody else in my family believes we’re witches, so I’m on my own.”

“Why do you believe it?”

“Because I want to.”

Fair enough. “Have you tried contacting other covens?”

“I’m not about to throw in with the De Lucas. They’re a bunch of freaks. And when I go online, I always end up talking to creeps who say they’ll give me spells if I send foot pics.”

“Which you… did?”

“Yes.”

“And what did you find out?”

“Nothing. The spells are always useless. Half the time it’s just Rupi Kaur poems.”

“But you’re going to keep trying.”

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