House of Ivy & Sorrow

by kindle@abovethetreeline. com

  Now his face goes truly cold. “You have no idea how hard it is to restrain myself from tasting your power, but I’m not a fan of taking what’s not offered. Unlike like some.”

  I tilt my head, completely confused. “Huh?”

  He pulls the handkerchief from his eye, and it’s as if I did nothing to him. “There’s a lot you don’t know. Let’s just say people aren’t telling you the truth.”

  My eyes narrow. “Yeah, I’m gonna believe some nameless, evil guy.”

  “Would my credibility improve if I said my name was Levi?”

  “Could be a lie.”

  “But it isn’t.”

  I grit my teeth, so angry I could scream. Maybe he’s telling the truth, but I really don’t need to be reminded by a freaking stranger that I don’t know what’s going on. I am well aware of that already. “Look, if you’re not going to kill me or help me, then get the hell out of here. I already have enough to deal with.”

  “I could help you.” Levi puts his hands in his pockets, seeming almost like a normal boy. He looks at me, hope in his eyes. “If you help me.”

  I scoff. “Nice try. That work on the last girl you terrorized?”

  He smirks. “Yes, actually.”

  The bell rings, and the classroom doors burst open. I freeze when Kat and Winn emerge from the physics room. They immediately spot my horrible new acquaintance, who frowns when he sees them. I run to Winn and wrap my arms around his neck.

  “You!” Winn’s glare is ice, and he holds me tightly.

  Levi appraises Winn carefully, as if he should know him somehow, and then lets out a laugh. “Interesting boyfriend you have here, Josephine. What’s his lineage? There’s something . . . off about it.”

  Winn’s eyebrows raise, and I think I sense fear. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you better stop stalking her before I call the cops.”

  “Cops?” Levi turns to me, like we’re in on some kind of joke. “Wouldn’t that be fun?”

  I ball my fists before the magic spills out again. It barely works, and Levi seems to notice because he takes a step back, as if he’s honestly afraid of what I’ll do to him. He should be. “That would be my cue to leave,” he says.

  “Wait!” Winn calls, but Levi keeps going. Winn turns back to me. “Are you okay? He didn’t try anything, did he?”

  “No, I’m fine.” I snuggle into him, wishing this were the last day of school so I could never leave Willow’s End again. “Why can’t some guys take a freaking hint?”

  “I don’t know.” Winn visibly relaxes, probably thinking Levi was trying to hit on me.

  “What is with the full-frontal hug?” Gwen says when she appears from around the corner with Adam.

  “Some creeper was hitting on Jo,” Kat says.

  Gwen laughs. “Hate to break it to you, Winn, but you’re gonna have to get used to that. If you haven’t noticed, she keeps getting prettier.”

  “No kidding.” Winn finally lets me go, but only enough so that we don’t look like we’re mauling each other in public.

  “I have the same problem with you, so it’s even,” I say, though my mind is reeling from who I just met. Nana and I theorizing that male magic users existed was scary enough, but Levi made it all too real.

  Girls hitting on Winn—I wish that were the only thing I had to worry about right now.

  “Nana!” I yell the second I get home.

  “Here!” Maggie calls from the dining room.

  I drop my bag, wondering what they’re doing in there. We never use the dining room—only the kitchen table. Everything in the dining room is original to the house, as pristine as it was when Agatha moved in. The table is dark cherry, each leg carved with hemlock flowers, small like baby’s breath but deadly. The fancy cupboard matches the table and contains fine china with gold-plated edges. And if that’s not elegant enough, the chandelier is stunning, with its draping flower crystals.

  Nana and Maggie peer out from behind the thick velvet curtains. “Josephine,” Nana says. “We have a visitor.”

  My heart sinks, envisioning something terrible, like Levi standing at the gate. If he got through our defenses we’re doomed. “Who?”

  “More like what,” Maggie says.

  I join them at the window. The front lawn of the house under the bridge is the same as always, shady and overgrown. I haven’t been out there since my dad showed up, and I ache to walk through the damp grass barefoot, searching for snakes and salamanders. “What are we looking at?”

  “Under the ivy by the gate,” Nana says.

  I squint at the shadows. There—two glowing eyes. “A cat!”

  Nana nods. “Our first clue to where Anastacia might be.”

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

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

  TWENTY-FOUR

  Cats and witches have always gone together, and for good reason. Felines possess the same ability to hold darkness, but on a smaller scale. Most witches have at least two or three, which they use for various purposes. Cats are beloved companions to us, as faithful as dogs but much smarter. I’ve always, always wanted one, and seeing this cat’s eyes makes me long to keep it here forever.

  But Nana’s violently allergic.

  One strand of cat hair will make her entire face swell up. When she was born, Great-Grandmother Geraldine had to say good-bye to four beautiful Russian Blues. We still have a picture of them on the mantle.

  “Once you discover why it has come,” Nana says, “come back inside, shower, and then tell me what we’ve learned, both from the feline and that horrid young man you met.”

  “Of course.”

  I grab a frog eye from the apothecary and head back to change the front door to the black one. I savor the brass knob’s grimy feel, excited to open it. It lets out a positively gleeful groan, and the world outside crashes into me, all power and shadows and age.

  Unlocking the gate, I click my tongue and hold out my hand. The cat emerges from the bush immediately. It’s a pretty thing, sleek and sandy in color. It saunters over like we have all the time in the world. I don’t mind—I’m just excited to hold it.

  It hops into my lap, and I run my hand over its silky soft fur. “What’s your name, pretty cat?”

  “I am Rose,” she says in a delightfully rich voice. “I am here to deliver a message from my master to Dorothea Hemlock.”

  “Who is your master?”

  “Sylvia Black.” Rose’s purr tickles my fingertips as I scratch under her chin. “She has heard that you are looking for her daughter.”

  My heart skips with hope. “Dorothea is allergic to cats, but I’m her granddaughter, Josephine. Are you authorized to give your message to me?”

  Rose nods. “My master knows not of Anastacia’s whereabouts since she is traveling. But if you would like to visit Sylvia, she is willing to attempt contact with Anastacia for you. Her house is in Georgia, on an old plantation called Blossom Ridge.”

  “Well, that’s something. Thank you, Rose.”

  “You are very welcome.”

  I scratch behind her ears, and she purrs. “Do you need anything before you leave? Milk? Food?”

  Her ears perk up. “Milk would be lovely, but I can find my own meals.”

  I reluctantly put her down and crack the door. “Maggie! Grab a bowl of milk, will you?”

  “Sure thing!” When Maggie brings it out, she smiles gleefully at the cat. “Oh! You are so pretty. It’s weird to be in a house without cats. I don’t know how Jo survives.”

  I fold my arms. “I don’t. It’s horrible not having them around. I miss them, and I haven’t ever had one.”

  “It is a shame,” Rose says. Then she sticks her face in the bowl, lapping up the milk. Maggie pets her as she drinks, this longing expression on her face. I wonder if I look the same.

  After we take a few more turns petting Rose, I force myself to stand. “We need
to get back to work.”

  Maggie frowns, but frees Rose from her hug. “Come back if you can.”

  The cat licks her paws. “Thank you for the milk.” Then she runs through the gate and disappears behind the ivy.

  As I climb the stairs for my shower, I hear Nana ordering Dad to vacuum the entire front hall and all the way up to the second floor in case we tracked in cat hair. I wouldn’t be surprised if she made him clean the walls, too.

  A shower and comfortable pajamas do wonders for my stress level. It feels like the last week and a half has been months, with so much happening that I can barely stop to breathe.

  “Jo! Hurry down here!” my dad calls frantically as soon as I shut off the shower. I sigh. From one crisis to another.

  He’s at the front door, seeming perplexed. “So I can hear a knock, but when I open the door no one is there.”

  I laugh. “It’s the other door. One sec, let me change it over.”

  Nana seems impatient when I enter the apothecary to grab more frog eyes, but she says nothing. She taps her fingers on the desk, and the sound makes me pick up my pace. I put my hand to the front door, and my father watches with curiosity.

  “There we go,” I say when the Main Street one appears.

  He touches it. “That is incredible. It’s like you’re a witch.”

  “You think?” I open the door, and our visitor makes my jaw drop. I thought it’d be Kat or Gwen. Maybe Winn, though he said he had plow duty again. But never in a million years did I expect to see this.

  It’s a cable guy.

  “No freaking way,” I say.

  The man looks between us. “Did I get the wrong house? I’m looking for Joseph Johnson?”

  “Right here.” Dad raises his hand. “Do you need any help with the equipment?”

  “That’d be great. The TV is pretty heavy.”

  “Thanks for hauling that out for me, by the way. We’re so far from everything here, and it wouldn’t have fit in my car.” Dad follows him to the big white truck, and I stand there in total shock. I don’t know how he did it, but I’m so excited I can barely contain myself. They lug a huge rectangular box through the front door, and he smiles at me. “Where should we put it?”

  “Oh, um, the living room, probably,” I say.

  The cable guy brings in a bunch of other stuff and gets to work. Dad looks at me nervously. “You like it?”

  “Uh, heck yeah. I can’t even believe it.”

  He laughs. “We should be online in a few hours. I hope you don’t mind, but I bought you a laptop, too. I don’t know how you’ve been writing your school papers, but I figured it would help to have one for next year.”

  “Are you serious?”

  He nods.

  “So . . .” I gulp, suddenly nervous that asking will jinx it. “Does that mean you’re staying?”

  He winces. “Not completely sure yet. My company said I could telecommute for a couple months as a trial. Don’t tell your grandmother, though. I only convinced her to let me have this stuff because I’d be here permanently.”

  Before I worry about what he thinks, my arms are around him. “You’re the best.”

  He puts one arm around me, like he’s unsure of how to do the parental-affection thing. “I can’t wait to see your reaction when I buy you a car.”

  I pull away, eyes wide. “Don’t even kid about that.”

  “Can’t have you dependent on a boy for transportation.”

  I roll my eyes. “Seriously, Winn should be the least of your worries at the moment.”

  “Perhaps, but you’ve never been a teenage boy.”

  “Thank goodness.” A sudden burst of worry rushes over me. “Does he really bother you that much? You bring it up like every time we talk.”

  He shrugs. “I suppose it’s another reminder that you’re already grown up, and . . .” He looks away, his eyes sad and distant. “I missed everything.”

  I bite my lip, unable to say how much I wish he had been there, too, now that I’ve met him. “We have photo albums. Maybe later we could watch something on this awesome TV, and I’ll show them to you.”

  He smiles my smile. “I’d like that.”

  “I better talk to Nana. She’s waiting for me.”

  “Right, of course.”

  Nana almost glares me to death when I enter the apothecary. Maggie is cradled in the small window seat, seeming positively bored. I sit in the chair and give Nana the run down on Levi and Rose. When I finish she just sits there for a moment, her hands clasped.

  “It seems very strange that he would not Curse you,” she says. “Is he toying with us, or is he someone we can trust?”

  “I don’t know.” I wrap my arms around myself. “Trusting him seems like a really stupid idea, doesn’t it? He has magic when he shouldn’t, and we don’t know anything about him but his name.”

  “And the fact that he sounds like a total jerk,” Maggie adds. “He almost killed Kat. How did he even know she was bound to you? That is super fishy, if you ask me.”

  Nana sighs. “He could have sensed it. If he can sense Josephine’s magic, it must be a skill of his. Maybe that’s how these men have been able to hunt down witches for centuries. And I do not like how he said he doesn’t take what isn’t offered . . . why would a witch offer to be Cursed? It makes no sense.”

  “Nothing makes sense anymore,” I say.

  “I know, dear.” Nana looks so sad, so filled with regret. “But that boy has answers. I think he does know who killed Carmina, and he certainly knows how the Curse works. We need that information desperately to even stand a chance.”

  Levi’s smug grin flashes in my mind. “I think he knows that, too.”

  “Certainly.”

  “Which means there will be a steep price to pay if we risk seeking his help.” I put my head in my hands, unsure of how much I’m willing to sacrifice to survive.

  UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE

  HarperCollins Publishers

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

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Friday evening, Gwen rummages through my armoire as I carefully apply a layer of eyeliner. I don’t wear it often, but it’s my first real date with my boyfriend. It seems like I should kick it up a notch. She pulls out my blue sundress, the one I was wearing when Winn saw me at the county fair. “You have to wear this.”

  I blink several times, my eyes itching from the extra makeup. “I don’t know. Isn’t that a little cheesy?”

  “A little?” Kat sprawls out on my bed and opens her notebook.

  Gwen puts her hands on her hips. “I think it would be romantic.”

  “It’s stupid.”

  “Is not!”

  Kat rolls her eyes. “Whatever.”

  I head over to Gwen. “It doesn’t matter, because it’s not what I want to wear anyway.”

  She hangs it back up with a huff. “Then what do you want to wear?”

  I stare at my clothes, pursing my lips. “I don’t know.”

  “Well, you better decide soon, because we have fifteen minutes to take out those hot rollers and get you ready.” Gwen pulls my shoe organizer from under my bed. It kind of sucks not having a closet in my round room, but it has helped me learn organization. “Maybe picking shoes will help you narrow it down.”

  “I’ll know it when I see it.” I scan my clothes yet again, and nothing seems good enough. I wish I could have bought something new and perfect, but the closest mall is too far outside the barrier to risk. At least I have internet now—hello, online shopping. “Why are all my clothes so ugly?”

  “They aren’t!” Gwen holds up gold flats and red sandals. “Which ones?”

  “Gold. I think?” I put my hand on my head, only to get burned by the curlers. “I don’t know! I’m freaking out here.”

  “You two are ridiculous.” Kat slams her notebook shut and stomps over to my armoire. She pulls out a pair of apple-green leggings and a short black dress, then
points to Gwen. “With the gold flats.”

  I raise my eyebrows. “I . . . love that, actually.”

  Gwen folds her arms, probably hurt that I picked Kat’s choice over hers. But Kat kind of has an advantage, since she can basically read my mood. I throw on the clothes and plop down in my vanity chair. “Gwen, please make my hair look good. I beg of you.”

  She sighs, though I’m sure she’s happy to oblige. That is one thing she’ll always beat Kat at. Gwen has magical powers with hair, I swear. She can curl it, straighten it, pull it up in fancy braids, and it always looks perfect.

  “Your hair really does have a mind of its own, doesn’t it?” She fiddles with a wayward curl, and it miraculously goes into place.

  Seeing her do that makes me ache. I don’t want to keep the grief in and ruin my date, so I take a deep breath. “My mom used to do that. She could always flip my curls and they’d fall the right way, as if they thought she was the boss.”

  Gwen smiles as she fixes another one, seeming appeased by the comparison. “Now I’m the boss.”

  I laugh. “That’s for sure.”

  The doorbell sounds, and I can barely contain myself. As I head for the stairs, Gwen follows just behind. She tugs on my hair so hard I squeak. “That hurt!”

  “One second! This one needs help, too.”

  I bounce like a kid hopped up on Popsicles. “Hurry! If I don’t get the door first—” It creaks open, echoing through the whole house, and I freeze. “Crap it all.”

  “You must be Winn.” My dad’s voice carries from downstairs. Despite his convincingly friendly tone, I can imagine Winn’s smile dropping right off his face.

  “Nice to meet you, Mr. Johnson. I hope you’re liking Willow’s End,” Winn says. I can tell he’s nervous—he sounds too proper.

  “Let me go!” I whine. “I have to diffuse a potential disaster down there.”

  She pats me on the shoulders. “Okay, you’re good. Have fun and tell me everything.”