House of Ivy & Sorrow

by kindle@abovethetreeline. com

He smiles, but it’s not the same bright grin he usually gives me. “You are such a good friend.”

  “You are such a good boyfriend.” I mean it, even if I still don’t know what role he plays in all of this. I want so badly to be with him, but even though we’re right next to each other it feels like there’s a universe between us. It feels like if he leaves, things will never be okay for us again. The thought of really losing him slams into my chest, and I find myself saying, “Maybe I can sneak away for a second.”

  “Really?” His voice is small, skeptical.

  “I miss you,” I admit, even though I shouldn’t. He could be the enemy, and I don’t have any more chances to take. “I’m sorry I ran like that. I . . . I guess I got scared once you left.”

  “It’s okay, figured as much. I kind of got carried away—sorry for pressuring you.” He sighs as his hands find my waist, and I can’t resist his touch. “I miss you, too.”

  Someone clears their throat, and we jump apart. I really hope it isn’t my dad. Winn’s skittishness doesn’t seem so silly anymore. Luckily, it’s Gwen, whose golden hair now brushes at her collarbone. I’ve never seen it that short, but it’s gorgeous and mature.

  “Sorry to interrupt,” she says, readjusting her large duffle bag.

  “Gwen!” I walk past Winn and down the stairs to give her a hug. “I love your hair. Seriously, you look amazing!”

  She smiles. “I thought I’d hate losing it, but it’s kind of hot, isn’t it?”

  “So hot!” I turn to Winn. “Right?”

  He smiles, and this time it’s real. “How am I supposed to answer that?”

  I roll my eyes. “You can be honest with me, too, you know.”

  Our eyes lock, and for a second I think he might understand I mean that in a different way as well. But then he blinks it away. “Fine. Gwen, you look beautiful.” He comes down the stairs and pecks my cheek. “Have fun with your girls’ night.”

  “But didn’t you want—?”

  “Just promise me we’ll hang out later.”

  “I promise,” I say, though part of me never wants to have the conversation that’s coming. Why did I have to find that stupid history? I want everything to go back to before that moment, when it was only me and Winn stealing kisses in his attic.

  “Call me, okay?”

  “Of course.” I wave and smile, but inside it feels like I’m falling apart.

  Once he’s out of earshot, Gwen grabs my arm and pushes me back toward the house. “You better spill, because I can’t take another day of nightmares without knowing what the hell is going on.”

  “This way.” I point her down the hall.

  As she takes in the apothecary, with its various skeletons and ceiling-high cabinets of mysterious bottled things, she doesn’t seem so excited. “Is this for real?”

  Prudence rolls her eyes. “This will be exhausting.”

  I spit in my hand and use it to conjure a snake, which I toss at Pru. She lets out a pleasing scream, shaking it off, and I let it disappear. “So you’re still afraid of snakes.”

  Pru says nothing, just straightens her hair and goes back to the book.

  Tessa tries to hide her smile. “How did you know that?”

  “Mom said something once.” I turn to Gwen. “Sit over here.”

  She takes the chair, its heavily carved wood and burgundy upholstery contrasting against her light hair, and looks at me. “You’re not like that guy who cured me, are you? Because when he was killing the shadows in my head . . . Whatever that magic was, I can’t see you being like that, Jo.”

  I lean on the desk. “No, we’re not like Levi, but that doesn’t mean what we do is pleasant. Magic is dark. But we don’t let it consume us—we are in control of it, or at least any respectable witch is.”

  She nods. “So what’s going on? Did . . . is that why my house is gone?”

  I cringe. “It’s my fault. The people hunting my family did it to hurt me. I should have been there to protect you, but I wasn’t paying attention because Nana is dying, and—”

  “Wait.” She puts her hand to her chest, as if hearing that was a physical blow. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Our eyes meet, and I know I don’t have to speak.

  “It’s like what happened to me, so you couldn’t say anything?”

  “Along those lines.” And then it all floods out—how my mom really died, my dad showing up, Kat finding out, the threats on my friends, Nana being cursed, Winn being a witch’s descendant, Levi, the Blacks, and Jeff, the man who killed my mother. By the time I’m done, my whole body trembles, exhausted from the seemingly endless chain of darkness.

  Gwen is silent for a long time. “You should have told me,” she finally says. Then she turns to Kat. “She told have told us, right?”

  “Yes!” Kat throws up her hands. “Can you believe her?”

  Gwen laughs. At me. Definitely not with me. “Seriously, Jo, why do you have to do everything on your own?”

  Prudence puts her hands to her hips. “Because outsiders aren’t permitted to know of us. Josephine is breaking time-honored traditions that have kept us safe for generations.”

  Gwen raises an eyebrow. “What? You really think we’ll burn her at the stake?”

  Pru’s eyes flare with anger. “How dare—”

  Gwen stands. “Look, no offense, okay? I get the idea of the rule, but I don’t think she’s breaking anything. She isn’t risking anyone’s safety; she’s only trying to protect her friends. I know you might not think we belong here, but Kat and I are Jo’s family. I don’t care if we’re not witches. We care about her more than you can understand, and it’s really shortsighted of you to overlook that.”

  We all gape at her, and I have this overwhelming urge to hug my adorable mother hen of a friend. Gwen looks my way. “So what next? I’ll do anything to help you—save Nana, kick this guy’s ass, whatever.”

  I can’t help but smile, even as I grab the pliers. “First, a spell and a hell of a lot of pain. Then? Pudding.”

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................

  THIRTY-NINE

  Our attic has never been so crowded. I make Dad carry Nana up, though I don’t let him stay. The thought of a man reading about our past is too much even for me. I open dozens of histories, and I hand each person a stack. If I can’t think of a way to beat this Shadow on my own, then I will rely on my Hemlock ancestors for help.

  “We need more power, so let’s learn everything we can,” I say. “There has to be something in here, somewhere, about the oldest of old ways, before the spell books were written.”

  “And what would you have us do when we find something?” Prudence asks from the nearest desk, where she already has her first book open.

  “Read it out loud, I guess. Anything you think is important.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Gwen holds up her monocle, and her smile widens. “Wow! That’s amazing.”

  “That’s what I said.” Kat sits next to her on the couch, and I love the sight of the two of them together, here with me. Same with Maggie and her mother, cuddled in the window seat. And Nana, head still held high, as she reads in the plush chair. Somehow it fills in a little part of what I’ve been missing all these years. Having the house full makes me realize how empty it was before.

  I put my hand over my heart, its warmth overwhelming. Despite the world caving in around us, I haven’t felt this whole in ages. Not since before Mom died. My skin prickles with the realization:

  Now is the time.

  I rush to Mom’s history. Its gold lettering glitters in the last slivers of evening sun, and I hold my breath as I put my hand above it.

  “Josephine . . .” Nana says quietly, her voice reeking of pain, as if she doesn’t want me to be disappointed if it doesn’t work.

  “It’s okay, Nana. I . . .” Mom’s pendant is warm on my skin, and her memories swi
rl around me like wisps of lavender. She’s never been gone—not really. Her mark lingers on everything in my life, and it’s not a mark of sorrow, but one of love and life and perpetual sunshine. “I can do this.”

  Slowly, I lower my hand toward the book. Tendrils of lightning meet my fingers, but what was once a shock is now a tickle. I close my eyes, focusing on the spell she placed on her book. It wants me to do something, but I can’t quite catch it. My fingers are going numb. This is the trap now, not the repellent for those unprepared to read. The tingling slowly travels up my arm, will continue if I don’t figure out how to open it soon.

  It’s not a reagent. I know that for sure. The puzzle hums through my brain as I detangle the magic. Not an action or gesture. I try to shake out the needling sensation, but it only makes it worse.

  Not a spell.

  No . . . a password.

  Great. I have no idea what it is, not even a good guess. I don’t dare say anything, since the spell might punish me for uttering the wrong words.

  The numbness is almost to my shoulder, making it difficult to keep my hand over the book. I can’t lose now, not when I’m so close. All these years I thought that if I was ready it would be easy to open. Stupid me. Mom was an incredible witch—she even made things not in the spell books, like her pendant.

  The answer is right there, like a word on the tip of my tongue. I can almost feel Mom scowling down at me, because I’ve forgotten something. What is it? Racking my brain, I go through every memory I have of her. There’s no way I could have forgotten her giving me a password—I’ve worked so hard to remember everything about her. I pause, realizing there’s one thing I try to forget:

  The moment she died.

  Pain fills my heart as the memory floods my mind. I can almost see it, and I can certainly feel it. Her bony arms encircled me, and I clung to her as if that could make her stay. She smelled of lavender and death, but her touch was still the most comforting thing in the world.

  “Don’t die,” I whispered to her.

  “Shh.” She kissed my head. “I’ll always be here, even when you can’t see me. You know why?”

  “No.” My voice cracked on the word.

  “Because when you truly love someone, it’s forever. They never leave you, because they’re part of you. Love is forever, sweetie.” She squeezed me as tight as her arms could. “Say it for me.”

  “Love is forever,” I cried.

  “Don’t forget it. Promise me.”

  I nodded into her chest, and I listened as her heart slowed and finally stopped.

  I gasp at the pain, raw and new all over again, but I know these are the words I must say. “Love is forever.”

  The numbness is gone immediately. I look down, and there on the black leather is my hand. I move my fingers across the soft grooves, savoring the feel. The spine cracks as I lift the cover, a satisfying sound.

  “Josephine, you wonderful girl.” Nana’s voice is reverent, and she pushes to get out of her seat.

  I hold up my hand. “Don’t get up. I’ll read it out loud.”

  Mom wrote a lot. I had no idea how much would be in here. She has pictures glued in—her and the Crafts, Nana, Great-Grandma Geraldine, Stacia, Dad, and little baby me. There are locks of hair and pressed flowers and postcards, letters and sketches and newspaper clippings. Her entire life: she put it in this book.

  “What are you looking for?” Maggie asks as I flip through the pages. I wish I could read each one, but there’s only one thing that matters right now.

  “Here,” I say, my hand running over the page. “When she noticed she was Cursed.”

  I read it, my voice surprisingly steady:

  Something is wrong. I can’t keep magic inside me like before. One little spell and it feels as if I’ve used my entire store. I have to fill up more often than I used to, and leaving the house is like leaving my life source.

  I asked Mom if this was something that came with age, and she gave me one of those suspicious looks. I think she knows I’m keeping these worries from her, but I still don’t want to admit what I did. I never should have gone. I am sure it happened when I went to San Francisco. How selfish of me, to have put us all in such danger because I couldn’t forget him.

  I stop. “Maybe I should go back one.” I look at Nana. “I was like three when she wrote this. Did you know she went to San Francisco?”

  She shakes her head. “She never told me.”

  I flip back a few pages to the previous entry.

  I can hardly believe what I did today. Everything started out normally, and as I sit here now it all seems like a dream. This morning, I made Jojo pancakes. That girl could eat pancakes for every meal if I let her. She was so excited she kept saying, “I love you, Mommy! You’re the best Mommy! I love you!”

  It killed me. I couldn’t stop thinking about my other Joe, how much he would have loved this little girl of ours. Sometimes she’s so much like him that it takes my breath away. I ache to my soul, I miss him so badly.

  I had a momentary lapse in judgment. It didn’t seem fair to keep them apart. He should know he has a daughter. So when Mom went out to collect rodents, I took Jojo to San Francisco. I wanted to show her where we fell in love, where we would have lived if things were different. More than that, I wanted to relive it, to be in the places that hold some of my most cherished memories.

  We had gelato, which Jojo loved. And we walked through Chinatown. I bought her a little doll, and by the afternoon she’d already lost it. It didn’t matter, though. I was having the time of my life. We both were.

  And then I did it. I went to our old apartment. Tears streamed down my cheeks when I saw him through the lighted window. I couldn’t believe he still lived there, as if he was waiting for me to come back to him. And here I was, more in love with him than ever, so desperate to touch him that I could barely contain myself.

  I carried Jojo across the street, since she was tired and a little cranky from the long day, and the second I touched the curb something strange happened.

  All my magic—it was gone. This darkness encircled me like death, and I was stranded with no way to defend myself. I looked in every direction for something threatening, but there was nothing, at least that I could see. But I felt it watching me, waiting for what I would do next.

  I couldn’t see Joseph now. I cried, knowing I shouldn’t have tried to meet him at all. It was a sign—this is why our traditions exist.

  If it weren’t for Jojo, I don’t know what would have happened to us. She still had her magic, and I quickly explained to her how to make a teleporting spell. She did it! I know she’s only three, but she amazes me with her abilities already. She knows magic. It’s in her heart and mind and soul, as natural as breathing. She saved us tonight, and she will probably never know until she reads this history.

  I barely catch my tears before they hit the page. I can’t believe I was there when it happened—I have no memories of it—and it breaks my heart that she missed Dad so much.

  “If only I’d welcomed Joseph into our house eighteen years ago,” Nana says. “She would have never gone. We would have all—”

  “Don’t start that.” I refuse to even think about what could have been. “Now we know. Jeff must have been waiting for her; sounds like she set off some kind of alarm when she went there. He knew them, how much they loved each other, and he used it against us. First to get Mom, then me. He will have hell to pay for—”

  Nana’s eyes fill with horror, and she puts her hand to her neck like she can’t breathe. I run to her side. She trembles as she takes my hand, and tears spill from her eyes. This scares me more than anything, because Nana doesn’t cry.

  “What is it? Are you in pain?” I ask.

  She shakes her head. “He’s coming. I can feel his presence at the town’s barrier.”

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

  ..................................................................
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br />   FORTY

  “No . . .” But one look out the window proves Nana’s right. The light is changing to an unnatural, sickly orange. Thunder rumbles, and with it comes a strange noise that sounds like someone is torturing animals. Then I realize what it is. “The alarms.”

  “He’s trying to take—” Nana puts a handkerchief over her mouth. And then she coughs, so hard and so long I worry she’ll suffocate. The speck of black on the white cloth grows until it stains her fingers. Her hand shakes in mine, frail and exhausted. Death waits for her, so close it seeps through the cracks in our house and chills even me.

  I wish I could force back the tears. Nana has never really looked young, but she’s always been strong. As a child, I remember her carrying me to my room if I fell asleep reading by the fire. She taught me how to hunt foxes and rabbits, where to find the best reptiles and insects. I could never outrun her, even when I ran my fastest. Everything about her is strength. I hardly recognize her this way.

  “Don’t die!” I cry.

  “Josephine.” Her hand comes over mine. It feels like if I push too hard I’ll break right through her skin. “Cut.”

  I snap my head up, and my eyes meet hers. “Cut?”

  She nods.

  I gulp down another sob and take the letter opener from my desk. Sliding the trash can up next to us, I take her wrist but then hesitate. It feels wrong to hurt her, to let her bleed, but she said it helps ease the pain. She deserves at least that, even if she . . .

  The knife slides across her wrist with little resistance, like cutting into whipped cream. Black blood bursts from her veins with an unpleasant gurgle. It spews far too quickly, as if there is more than her body can hold. The smell is sickly sweet and bitter at once, sugar and bile, life and decay.

  Nana lets out a long sigh. “Better.”

  “What do you feel, Nana?” I ask.

  She purses her lips. “It’s not good, my dear. We must maintain the barrier. If he uses all his magic on that, then you can make sure he doesn’t get any more by—”