House of Ivy & Sorrow

by kindle@abovethetreeline. com

  “True.” I look down at my hand, which has significantly improved thanks to Nana. I can still feel some pain, but it appears to be normal at least. “And I’ll save it as many times as I have to.”

  “You’re like a superhero.”

  “Yeah, if superheroes used the powers of darkness.”

  I pull out the very first history—Golde Hemlock, 1153–1201. Hers I have read, and it’s fascinating how she was born with magic, though her mother didn’t have it. That happened occasionally—still happens sometimes—when a mother-to-be gives birth in a place brimming with magic. The dark power takes the child for its own. Golde slowly discovered her powers, and then one day she found another witching family, the Sages, who took her in and taught her their ways.

  The Sages were also afflicted with the Curse, even then. Nana told me that their family died out from it right before many witches left for the Americas to escape it. Sometimes I wonder if that’s why it’s also followed the Hemlocks so often, because Golde learned from the Sages.

  The lock is simple to break: just a heat enchantment dispelled by blowing magic onto it. I hand it to Kat, and she carefully opens the leather cover. Inside, the parchment is yellow and slightly brittle. Then she tilts her head. “Uh, is this English?”

  “Middle English.” I pull out a piece of glass that’s round like a monocle, but without the chain. “This is a translator. Look through and it’ll make sense.”

  She takes it from me. Now I can tell she’s excited, because she’s already reading. “That is amazing.”

  “It only took about a hundred animal tongues to make, so don’t break it.”

  She cringes. “Lovely.”

  I open the next two books for her, and then head back to the newer histories. Agatha’s isn’t very far from the reading area in the round tower portion of the attic, which is well equipped with plush chairs and silky pillows. What little light we get under the freeway streaks through the windows. I take her history off the shelf, surprisingly nervous to read it firsthand. Nana has told me the story many times, so I never bothered to look up the source. Immediately the book sticks to my fingers, like the best superglue in existence. Funny. You’d definitely know who took it.

  I rummage in the satchel for a vial of enchanted slug mucus. As I pour it on my hand, I realize I should have brought antibacterial wash, too. Oh, well. I settle into a deep red recliner and crack open the book.

  Agatha’s journal is fairly boring early on. She lived in New York as a child, near the Crafts, which isn’t too surprising. The Hemlocks had a good piece of magical land up there that we stayed on for hundreds of years. It gets interesting when Agatha gets older—she’s restless and wants to travel, so she takes a long trip to Europe and visits some of the most magical sites in the world. That’s when it gets bad.

  August 31, 1890

  Nice, France

  Fanny wrote me today with distressing news—Mama has been Cursed. They don’t know how, but she has been complaining of weakness, of not being able to hold magic like she used to. I feel as if it’s my fault somehow, for leaving the house. But then why am I not the one Cursed?

  It makes no sense, but I must return home. I will miss my travels. Being penned into that house scares me almost as much as the Curse, but it seems I’ll be head of the house sooner than I ever wanted, now that Mama has been sentenced to such a harsh fate.

  My heart breaks for Agatha because I know exactly how she feels. I’m in the same position, except I don’t have a sister. I always wished for one, someone to share the burden with when I got older.

  I keep reading, and it gets worse. Agatha’s aunt also gets Cursed. That’s when Agatha and Fanny set out separately to find another magical place to live. They try to cover as much ground as possible, but most of the eastern American magic spots have been claimed.

  July 13th, 1894

  Iowan Plains

  Today I found a miracle. I have soaked in the magic at Stonehenge, at the Giant’s Causeway, in the Transylvanian forests, at Mont-Saint-Michel, but it’s not until now that I have tasted magic that makes my whole being feel alive. And in Iowa!

  The place is not much to look at, and it is hot as Hades. It is a wonder that such a plain speck of earth could hold so much power and promise, but I must have it. I will have it. This will be our new home, where Fanny and I can be safe from the Curse. I cannot stand leaving this place for one second, fearing that someone else may claim it before I return. So I have written to Fanny wherever she may be, and we will build anew.

  The magic—it is deep and dark and strong, and I know the Hemlock family will be safe here for many generations.

  I read on, enjoying the descriptions of this very house being built. It took many months, and apparently a lot of money for the period. Money isn’t really an issue for us if we need. Years of family treasures, plus the ability to conjure precious gems, helps.

  My heart doesn’t speed up until I find another surprising entry:

  May 3rd, 1895

  Willow’s End, Iowa

  Glorious news! Fanny has discovered another highly magical spot in this area, and we are working to secure it. Buying land here has become increasingly difficult in the last year, as there seems to be a town springing up from nowhere. They are calling it Willow’s End, due to all the willow trees that have been planted to combat the terrible summer heat. Let us hope they grow quickly, for the sunny months are upon us.

  I’ve never heard of another magical place in the area, and I can’t help wondering why we don’t know about it. Surely Nana would have mentioned this to me if she knew. As I read through the next few years, Agatha mentions Fanny building another house in the area off and on. They have plans to have many daughters, to rebuild the Hemlock name to what it once was. Everything seems absolutely perfect until:

  January 27th, 1900

  Willow’s End

  Fanny is dead, and I feel as though someone has stolen half my heart. I tried to secure her house, but it has become curiously bound to the people who moved in. I think perhaps the spell was supposed to bind to me if I’d gotten there soon enough, but it was the day of Fanny’s death that my daughter decided to enter this world.

  It is lucky Geraldine came easily, for I had to do it on my own. Now we are the only Hemlocks in existence, and I’ve never felt so alone in my life.

  My throat goes dry. I tear through the pages, searching for any more information about this mysterious “other house,” but Agatha says nothing, save she misses her sister. She never mentions if Fanny was also lost to the Curse, and it seems strange that she wouldn’t mention that. She specifically talked about everyone else being Cursed, and yet not Fanny?

  How did she die, then?

  Witches don’t usually die from sickness, since we can fix almost any bodily ailment. Same with accidents. There are only two things that could have happened to Fanny—old age or murder. She was younger than Agatha, so that leaves murder, either by the Curse she concealed from Agatha or something else.

  Or someone else.

  Could she have discovered what Nana and I have? Did she know about the men with magic?

  I jump from my seat too quickly, the book hitting the floor with a loud smack. Fanny’s history—there has to be more information in hers. There is something weird about this. I can feel it.

  But it’s not on the shelves. I check the histories nearest Agatha’s about forty times before I allow myself to believe it’s missing. How could it be missing? I deflate when I realize that it’s not missing; it’s just not here.

  It’s at Fanny’s house, wherever that is.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

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

  TWENTY-TWO

  I stand at the front door, and Nana hovers over me to the point that it’s suffocating. But I let her because have to go to school today. I still haven’t been able to protect Gwen or Adam past the barrier,
and the thought of them being attacked next makes me ill. As much as I want to stay in Willow’s End, it’ll be easier to find them at school than orchestrate some scheme to make them stay in our ultra-fortified town.

  “This will heighten your magical senses,” Nana says as she drapes a charm over my neck. It glistens like abalone shell. “And this is the strongest spell repellant I have. Also, one to boost your magic so you don’t have to use as much.”

  “How long did it take you to make these?” I ask. She forced me to bed after dinner, insisting that I needed my strength today.

  “For-freaking-ever,” Maggie moans from the living room couch. “I should know, since we only finished an hour ago.”

  “We do what must be done, Margaret.” Nana holds out several extra necklaces and a bag of spell pearls that look like candy. “These charms are for Gwendolyn and Katherine, for protection and hiding and solidarity. You must stay together. Try to feed the boys these pearls—they have everything they need. But mind you, the spells won’t last as long as the charms, if you catch my meaning.”

  “Nana . . .” The thought of guys digesting spell pearls isn’t a good way to start the day.

  She holds her hands up. “Pleasant or not, you must know. Margaret and I will make more and—”

  “Why can’t I go to school with Jo?” Maggie pulls herself up. Her long braid is messy, strands of hair sticking up in every direction. “I could help protect them.”

  “Too complicated,” Nana and I say at the same time. Getting her a school guest pass, having her shadow me in classes, not to mention how Gwen might see Maggie as yet another person I was paying more attention to—the trouble outweighs the benefits.

  Maggie pouts.

  “I need you here to help with more potions anyway.” Nana unlocks the door and looks me straight in the eye. “I’ll be watching. If you see anyone suspicious, do not let them get near. If you were Cursed . . .”

  I hug her. “I know. I’ll be careful.”

  The buss honks, and I have to run to make it in time. As I scan the rows, I spot Gwen’s bright blond ponytail. She has her face turned away from me, since she’s chatting with Winn and Adam behind her. Kat and Billy are across from them, flipping through papers on who-knows-what.

  I make my way to them and drape the charms over Gwen’s head. “I owe my grandma a hundred beetles for these.”

  She lets out a little squeak, touching them with one finger. Then her hand wraps around them, and she looks at me with the same sad eyes she wore the first day she sat with us. “You didn’t have to do that.”

  “Yes, I did.” I sit next to her. “Nana gave those to Kat. I had nothing to do with it, but I should have thought about how you’d feel, and didn’t. I’m sorry.”

  “I probably overreacted.” Gwen smiles a little as she inspects the bauble filled with swan down.

  “You think?” Kat throws a wad of paper at her.

  “Don’t say we’re cutting you out again,” I tell Gwen. “Because it’ll never happen, ever.”

  Winn pats Gwen’s arm. “Told you it was nothing to worry about.” I raise an eyebrow, and Winn recoils. “Uh, she kind of yelled at me in text last night about stealing you away and ruining your trio.”

  I turn to Gwen. “Seriously?”

  She sinks into her seat. “I was really mad! And I already yelled at you and Kat, so . . .”

  “I reassured her that I would never intentionally damage your friendship,” Winn says. “Hope that’s okay.”

  “Of course it is,” I say.

  “There’s only one problem with all of this.” Adam leans on the back of our seat. “Why didn’t you call me, Gwen? You could have cried on my shoulder.”

  She gives him that look, the one that any guy would fall for. “I don’t have your number.”

  He holds his hand out. “Gimme your phone.”

  When he takes it, I elbow her. She bites her lip, and that’s all I need to know she’s totally smitten. Despite Kat’s claims that Gwen and I are giant balls of hormones, we’ve really only had a few crushes, and Gwen’s the only one who’s had a boyfriend until now.

  “There.” Adam hands the phone back, his smile surprisingly charming instead of mischievous. “Now if you ever want to ditch these losers, you have a place to go.”

  “Losers?” I hold out the spell candy. “I was going to let you have some of my nana’s best homemade sweets, but if you think so little of me . . .”

  He snatches the bag. “You’re cool, Jo, even if you’re dating a complete dork.”

  Winn takes the bag and shoves Adam off the seat. “That’s it. Go sit next to Gwen, since she’s the only one deserving of your presence.”

  “Damn straight.” He pops a few candies in his mouth as he sits.

  “These are pretty good,” Winn says through a mouthful. “Billy, you gotta try some.”

  I breathe a tiny sigh of relief. At least they have some defense for the day, even if I have no clue how much it’ll help. It sure would be nice to know what we’re up against. Protection or not, I can’t seem to stop looking over my shoulder. I fear our hunters are closer than we’re prepared for.

  Winn touches my arm, and I jump. That’s right: I’m in art, and nothing is wrong, unless you count being forced to sketch a rocking chair with one seriously creepy doll on it.

  “Are you okay?” he asks. “You’re quiet. You haven’t said a word about how that doll looks possessed.”

  I can’t help but smile. “I guess I’m a little on edge about what you said yesterday.”

  “About the guy who took our picture?”

  I nod.

  He puts his arm around me, and I feel slightly better. “Don’t worry. If we see him again, I’m calling the cops. I don’t care if the guy is scary or crazy or what. I’m sorry I didn’t say something that day.”

  I lean into him, glad for the comfort even if Winn is essentially powerless. If only cops could help.

  The day is extremely uneventful, which makes it even harder to focus on anything besides who could be watching me. It’s all so normal, and yet not. I used to feel safe here. I can’t feel that way now.

  Ten minutes before school lets out, I start to think maybe we’ll be okay. Maybe Nana and I blew things out of proportion. But then my heart stops, and every hair on my body raises.

  Kat. Again.

  My hand shoots into the air. “May I use the restroom?”

  The teacher nods. “Take the hall pass.”

  I rush out the door toward the physics room, where I’m sure Kat is furiously taking notes. Putting my hand to my chest, I wish I could get my heart to slow down. But as I round the corner, the sensation is immediately gone, replaced with shock.

  Dark hair. Cunning eyes. A suit.

  He smells of magic, of power deep and limitless. I shiver as we stand there, staring at each other. I can feel his wanting, like a rope around my heart. He craves me and the power I hold. And like Winn said, he’s a boy. An achingly beautiful boy who can’t be much older than I am.

  Maybe he’s not the one who killed my mother, but that doesn’t mean he won’t kill me.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

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

  TWENTY-THREE

  That binding spell is pretty convenient,” the boy says in a surprisingly soft voice. “All I have to do is think about killing your friend and here you are. Better than a phone, really, since you have to answer.”

  Instead of replying, I put my hand to the charms around my neck, pulling the magic into my fingers.

  “Don’t worry.” He smiles, as if he finds this all extremely amusing. “I’m not going to Curse you . . . yet.”

  “So comforting.” Kat would be out here if I were in real trouble, but I continue with the spell anyway. The magic makes my hand tingle with power. The charms are definitely working, because I don’t think I’ve ever felt so strong. This stupid boy
has no idea what he’s up against.

  “Seriously, you really don’t want to do that.”

  “Oh? If you’re the one who took my picture and tried to murder my friend, I definitely do.” I let electricity spark from my fingers. My hair will turn permanently gray if I let the spell shock him to death, but that seems like a small payment.

  He sighs. “Details, details. I knew you’d stop that bubble curse before your friend died—that’s why I picked the one who was bound to you. I do have a cover to maintain, you know.”

  “That makes it okay?” I’m so angry I can barely contain myself. “Whatever you are, you’re evil. You’ve tormented us for the last week and a half! No, for hundreds of years, and—”

  “I know who killed your mother.”

  My eyes grow wide, and the spell fades back into my body. “W-what? Who?”

  His grin turns smug. “Give away my best protection against electrocution? I don’t think so.”

  “Then what are you doing here?”

  He shrugs, coming a few steps closer. I force myself to stand my ground. I won’t cower—not even if he can Curse me. He looks me up and down, and then says, “Just wondering what all the fuss is about.”

  “Who’s fussing?”

  His laugh is like a whisper, barely there and yet powerful enough to make me shudder. “It’s cute how you think I’ll tell you. But they weren’t kidding.” He takes in a deep breath, and the ecstasy on his face is sickening. “That is some top-quality magic, and it comes in such a pretty package.”

  The lightning surges to my fingers again. “Maybe I should show you what it can do.”

  “All in good time, Josephine.”

  I hate the way he looks at me, that he knows my name and says it so intimately. I flick a few sparks at him, and they zip right to one of his pretty brown eyes. In my peripheral vision, I can see a lock of my hair turn silver. “Don’t. Push. Me.”

  He pulls out a handkerchief to wipe the blood. “Impressive, the control you have not to release the entire spell.”

  “I’m sure you know nothing of control.” The spell begs me to do it, to let go and watch him fry to a crisp. It would be so easy, but I can’t give in. He knows who killed my mother. Even if it’s a lie, I can’t risk losing a single lead.