I glance at Nana, unsure of what to do. Can I explain? Are we going to be concocting a mind-erase spell this evening? “I . . .”
Kat points to my dad. “What did you do to him? Did you kill him? Are you gonna kill me now?”
“No! It’s not what you think,” I say, though it’s probably mostly what she thinks. “I’m not a murderer. He’s fine—better than he was with that thing inside him.”
Nana clears her throat. “Calm down, child.”
Kat stares at her. “Calm down? You’re the witch who lives under the bridge, aren’t you? I thought that was a joke!”
“Your choices are simple.” Nana waves the dagger at her. “Come with us willingly, or come by force.”
I didn’t think it was possible, but Kat’s eyes get wider. “Those are my only choices?”
“I suppose I could remove your vocal cords, if you’d like a third,” Nana says.
Kat’s hand goes to her throat. “Option one, please.”
“Good.” Nana pulls open the door. “Get your father, Josephine.”
“Father?” Kat says it like it never crossed her mind that I had one, and then Nana shoves her inside.
“Be right there.” I put my hands on my hips, trying to process what happened. This didn’t go even remotely according to plan, but at least that evil spell is gone. Never mind the creepy shadow and one of my best friends walking in on an exorcism. I’ll take one problem at a time, and right now that would be figuring out how best to carry my dad into the house when I’m barely strong enough to stand after using all that magic.
I end up grabbing him under the arms and dragging him. Once he’s inside, I shut the door and breathe in the magic. Once I have enough to feel better, I perform the spell to make the portal to our house disappear from under the willow. Then I run to the apothecary, where Nana has Kat in the chair. She looks so small there, like a child waiting to be scolded.
“Josephine,” Nana says as I search for eagle feathers. There’s no way I can get him upstairs on my own, so a floating spell it is. “Would you consider this girl trustworthy?”
The question startles me. I figured Nana had only one plan—a mind erase. “Um, yeah. You know Kat. We’ve been best friends since we were kids. Of course I trust her.”
“With your life?”
My eyes go to Kat, who’s looking right back at me. I have no clue what’s going on, but the answer comes easily. “Yes.”
Nana nods. “After you’re done tending to Joseph, come back down. Oh, and feel free to get him up to speed when he wakes up.”
“Sure . . .” It’s weird that she’s okay with telling him, but I decide not to question it. Maybe she wants to pacify him until we decide what to do with him.
I float my father up to the spare bedroom next to my mother’s old room. I almost put him in hers, but it seems like too much. I have a hard time walking by the door, let alone going inside. It’s still the same as it was when she died: the bed unmade, her coat on the desk chair, a stack of yellowed papers waiting for words. One of the dresser drawers is ajar, a nightgown sticking out. We can’t bring ourselves to clean it, as if it’ll erase the last piece of her we have.
Once I get him out of the muddiest stuff and in bed, I wipe the blood from his eyes. Then I spend far too much time staring at him. I have his ears and his stubby fingernails. He snores lightly, like I always imagined dads doing.
He has to stay.
My stomach sinks when I realize he could have another family. I grab his left hand. No wedding band. Not that it means much—he could be divorced or he could have a girlfriend. I could have half siblings . . . a whole family that has no idea I exist, that will never know I exist. Shaking myself out of it, I stand. He’ll be asleep for a while, and Nana and Kat are waiting for me. When I get back to the apothecary, I sit next to Kat and wait for Nana to explain.
“Your friend is . . . worthy,” Nana says.
“Okay?” I glance at Kat, who doesn’t seem as scared as she was at first. In fact, there’s a hint of excitement in her eyes. “And what does worthy mean?”
“It could mean many things, my child.” She pulls out a heavy spell book, and that alone sets me on alert. Nana never has to use the book, which means whatever spell she has in mind is not something we do every day. Hell, every decade. “But for now, it means she’s allowed to keep her memories, so long as she goes through a binding spell.”
My eyes go wide. “Binding?”
“It’s rather simple. If she reveals our secret, she dies.”
“Nana, that’s way too harsh.”
Kat shakes her head. “I’d never tell, so it’s not a big deal. Better than forgetting this. I can’t believe I never suspected anything. It’s so obvious now.”
I sigh. “Kat, this will hurt. You get that, right? Magic isn’t fluffy—there will be a sacrifice much worse than if you forgot.”
“I know,” she says. “A fingernail.”
I shudder at the thought. “Why would you do that just to know?”
“Jo.” Her look is flat. “You’ve always been the funny one. Gwen’s always been the fun one. And I’m the peanut gallery.”
“No! You’re the voice of reason! Gwen and I would tear each other apart without you.”
She rolls her eyes. “Whatever. I want to be a part of this. Haven’t you ever wanted someone to talk to? How did you go so many years without this secret killing you?”
My throat tightens. “I . . . I had Nana to talk to.”
“Seems lonely to me.”
This ache forms in my heart, in the place my mother left gaping and bleeding. Loneliness is part of my life. It always will be in one way or another. And yet I can’t help but love Kat for thinking of me, for wanting to take care of me.
“I want to do this,” she says firmly. “You can’t change my mind.”
I nod, too sad to do anything else.
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NINE
Kat and I sit at the kitchen table with heaping bowls of ice cream. It seems like an ice-cream kind of moment, something sweet to take her mind off the impending agony. That, and a good thing to fill awkward silences with, because all I really want to say is, “Are you flipping crazy? You know my grandma’s in there preparing to rip out your fingernail, right?”
But she won’t listen. She’s definitely the most stubborn of our group—maybe the most stubborn person I know, save Nana.
“So, your dad’s alive,” she says between bites.
“Yup.” Even if Kat’s allowed to know about it, I can’t seem to get my tongue moving. I still remember when Mom told me about secrets, about what could happen if my friends found out what I could do.
“They could get hurt, or they could hurt us,” she said. “There are a lot of people out there who think we’re bad, and they want to kill us.”
I knew what killing was at five. It was my job even then to help Mom preserve the animals we used as reagents. “Why do they think we’re bad?”
“Because we can use magic. They don’t understand the difference between controlling darkness and being dark. We Hemlocks will never be dark, Jojo, never.” She kissed my cheeks. “But still, you can’t tell a soul.”
Kat’s spoon clinks against her bowl. “I always thought he died, since you never talked about him, you know? And with what happened to your mom . . . it didn’t feel right to ask.”
“I found out he was alive on Friday. Haven’t technically met him yet.”
She pushes her bangs out of her eyes. “Seriously?”
“Yeah, I couldn’t talk to him—not with that thing in him.”
“What was it?”
“Not sure.” I gulp, the shadow’s eyes coming back. How I wish my gut would stop nagging me about it. “It was supposed to be a spying curse, but I think it was more. Or purging it triggered something else. We don’t know a
ll the details, only that it might have to do with my mom’s murder.”
Kat’s spoon stops moving, and she looks me in the eye. “She was murdered?”
I nod. “And now whoever did it is after you?” “Probably.” I can’t say yes, even though I know how much that darkness wanted me.
She leans back. “That’s so evil, using your dad. How can you pretend you’re okay through all this? I’d be a total mess.”
I shrug. I’d never really thought much about it. The dark, lonely nights were part of my witch life, and it didn’t occur to me that I could bring the sadness over to my small corner of normal. Or maybe I didn’t want to. Hanging out with Gwen and Kat has always been a break from all the hard stuff. Why waste it moping?
A splash of cold hits my face, and I look up from my bowl. “You did not just throw ice cream at me.”
“Talk! You’re acting like I’m a stranger. It’s pissing me off.”
“Sorry.” I wipe the ice cream off. “It’s weird, okay? Nana has never done this. Never. It’s always secret, secret, secret. I can’t help feeling like something is wrong. I don’t get why she’d let you know.”
Kat purses her lips. “When I said I didn’t want my memory erased, she told me that I’d always be in danger of dying or being cursed or revealing your secret. I said I could handle it, and then you came in. After that, she said you needed me, and she started telling me about how magic works.”
I nearly choke. “She . . . what?”
“Is that weird?”
“Uh, yeah. Telling an outsider about magic is not done. Everything about this is strange. Not even my father knew Mom was a witch.” I rub my temples, since it feels like a hundred alarms are going off in my head. Nana is planning something so far outside normal witchcraft that I can’t guess.
“Sorry, I didn’t know.”
I shake my head. “Don’t be. I should be happy about this. No, I am! I’m just worried about the why.”
Because there’s always a payment, and something as good as having one of my best friends know about me must come at a heavy price. I don’t like that Kat’s life will hang on a flimsy thing like keeping our secret.
The ceiling lets out a ghastly moan, and my heart leaps so high it feels like it might burst out of my rib cage. “He’s awake.”
“I’m assuming you want to go alone,” Kat says.
I wince. “I probably should, though I’m kind of freaking out here.”
She smiles as she walks to the living room. “You’ll be fine. I’ll read a book or something.”
I head for the stairs, but I can’t take a breath big enough to calm down. My dad’s in there, and this time I’ll get to say everything I’ve wanted to since I realized who he was. The door creaks in warning of my presence, and he shoots up.
“How are you feeling?” I ask.
“I can’t see.” His eyes dart back and forth, straining hard against the blindness.
I take a few steps forward, and he tenses like he’s preparing for an attack. “It’ll go away, but I’m not sure how long it’ll take. That’s . . . the payment for removing the curse.”
His brow furrows. “Curse?”
“Yeah. Someone put a spying curse on you, because Carmina? She was a witch, and I’m a witch, too, being her daughter and all. You probably already guessed that. The daughter part. Not the witch thing; you had no idea about that. I mean, we’re really not that—”
He holds his hand up. “Whoa, slow down. So you’re Carmina’s daughter? How old are you . . . ?”
He stalls, clearly waiting for me to say my name. A lump forms in my throat, because the moment I say it he’ll know, and maybe he’ll freak out and run away. I want so badly for him to want me, even if I shouldn’t. “It’s Jo, Josephine, and I’m seventeen. Just barely, like a week ago.”
His face goes slack. “You’re my . . . my . . . ?”
“Daughter? Yeah. If it makes you feel better, I didn’t know who you were until you showed up either.”
He shakes his head. “Is that why she left? Did she think I’d be upset?”
“No, not at all. She didn’t want to leave you. Our kind . . . we don’t stay with our, uh, partners. It’s not safe for them, which you can see. Okay, you can’t see, but that’s kind of the point, right? The only reason any of this horrible stuff happened to you is because you knew her.”
“Loved her.” He puts his hand on his chest. “I was going to ask her to marry me, and then she just . . . disappeared. The police couldn’t find anything. All her records and pictures and possessions vanished. It was as if she never existed. My whole life I’ve wondered what happened to her, hoped to God that she was happy and safe, and she’s . . .”
His tears make my eyes water. “I miss her, too. Every day.”
He motions for me to come over, and I tentatively sit on the bed. Slowly, he holds his hand out. “May I . . . ?” I take it, surprised at how easy it is. For a second, it feels like we’re family. If Mom weren’t a witch, we would have been. He puts his other hand over mine. “I wish I’d known about you sooner.”
“Really? Even though I blinded you?”
It’s the first time I see his smile, and it’s mine. It’s strange to see it on him. I’d never really noticed the non-Hemlock aspects of myself, or at least I never thought about the fact that they belonged to someone else. “Sounds like it was necessary. I had a curse?”
“Yeah, about that . . .”
The door creaks open before I find the words, and Nana comes in like nothing is wrong. “Ah, Joseph, you’re up. Nice to meet you.”
His eyebrow arches. “Who are you?”
“Dorothea Hemlock, your dear Carmina’s mother.”
“Oh, I see. So Josephine lives with you, then.”
“Yes, indeed.” She claps her hands together. “Speaking of, I have to steal Jo from you for a little, and I wanted to ask if you needed anything. Some water? Pudding?”
I put my face in my hand, restraining a groan.
“Water would be great,”
She shakes her head. “Get him some chocolate pudding, too, dear. Chocolate fixes everything.”
“Even blindness?” he asks.
Nana lets out a cackle. “I see why Carmina loved you so much. Make sure to get plenty of rest. Your eyes will need it.”
After getting some food and water for my dad, I head to the apothecary, where Kat sits in front of a small, round table. On the table rests a pair of pliers, neatly placed in the center of a white doily.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
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TEN
I’ve seen a man give up his ear for enough luck to save his family from foreclosure. I’ve seen a child sacrifice his sense of taste for three months to keep his dog from going to the pound. And I’ve seen a woman literally give up her right arm so her baby would live. But it’s not the same when I know the person. I’m not sure I can watch Kat go through pain. My stomach turns, and all Nana has done is hand her a bag of ice to get her finger as numb as possible before . . .
I’m so going to lose it.
“Why do we have to do this again?” I ask. “I trust Kat. I don’t need a binding spell to know she won’t tell.”
“It’s as much for her protection as it is for ours. Once she is bound, you will know if she’s in danger, and she’ll know if you are.” Nana drapes three necklaces over Kat’s head. “These are protection charms to dull the pain, speed healing, and prevent infection. Do not take them off until your nail has grown back.”
“Okay.” Kat puts a shaky hand to them. “Thank you.”
Nana goes back to her desk, reading from the book. “Now, Josephine, you sit across from Katherine. We will use your skin for our part of the deal.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”
She lets out a frustrated sigh. “This is a contract. We promise to protect her, and in return she
promises to protect us as well. A nail to symbolize shielding, and a piece of flesh to represent the bond of protection. A fair trade.”
“Of course, should have known,” I say. “Where am I cutting and how much?”
Kat gulps. “This is so morbid.”
“This is magic. It’s not pretty.” Nana turns to me, setting down a small pair of gold scissors. “A dime-size piece should do, from wherever you’d like.”
“From wherever I’d like? You say it as if I’m excited to mutilate myself.” I look over my skin, trying to decide where to cut. Avoiding joints would be smart. It should probably be a place easily covered by clothes, so as not to draw attention. But then again, a good scar is always a conversation starter.
Nana rolls her eyes. “It’s hardly a scratch.”
“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with.”
She scoots the pliers toward Kat and puts a copper bowl between us. “The offerings go in when I say. Katherine, you will be expected to remove the nail yourself.”
She nods, grabbing the pliers.
My mouth goes dry. As lovely as my part is in the spell, I want to trade. I don’t want her to do this. I want to knock her out and erase her memory and let her go along her merry way.
“Jo.”
I look up at Kat, who’s trying to smile. “Remember that time Colby Turner was ragging on me?”
“Yeah.” It was in third grade, during the worst of my awkward period. For some reason, my baby teeth stuck around forever, and I’d just lost my first front tooth. So I had this awful poofy hair, a face full of freckles, and a hillbilly gap. Most everyone called me Billy Jo.
Kat was a skeleton back then. Still is. The girl can take down a large pizza on her own, and nobody knows where it goes. Colby kept poking her where her spine stuck out when she hunched over. I don’t remember what I said to him, but I do remember it was the first time I cursed someone on my own.
I gave up seeing color for a week; he had the runs for a week.
“I learned something that day,” Kat says. “Let’s face it: Everyone made fun of you, and you know what? I never thought to stand up for you. I don’t think Gwen did either. We consoled you after, but we let it happen. And then you . . .” She looks down, seeming ashamed. “You stood up for me. You taught me how friends were supposed to act. So stop freaking out and let me be there for you, too.”
House of Ivy & Sorrow Page 5
