“Wait! Can you tell me what’s going on?”
I hear him following me, but I don’t turn around. Instead, I rip out a tuft of hair and use it to teleport the second I have cover. When I appear in my room, I lean against the wall, shaking.
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THIRTY-FIVE
“Ugh!” I almost throw Mom’s pendant out the window, but restrain myself just in time. The stupid thing won’t work no matter what I do. Toppling onto my bed, I stare at the crack in my ceiling. I even tried that as a pendant trigger, and all I got was a nice afternoon nap. But after yesterday’s miserable revelation that my boyfriend is probably a Shadow, this pendant is my best option. A long shot, but at least I can’t get Cursed while hiding in my room.
My phone buzzes on my nightstand, and I don’t dare look at it because it’s probably Winn again. The thought of talking to him fills me with panic. I’m too tempted to answer it, to fall deeper into whatever trap he’s laid. But then I think of Nana dying, and my resolve grows stronger. I can’t let her down like that. I have to focus on saving her.
“Jo?” my dad calls from the hall. When I don’t answer he taps on the door, and then he cracks it open. “Can I talk to you?”
I shrug. I’m still mad at him for not telling me about Nana, but part of me wants to cry on his shoulder and tell him all the horrible things that have happened in the past few days.
The door swings open, and that’s when I notice the sleek white box he carries. It’s my computer. I suck in my excitement, trying to look as indifferent as possible. He can’t buy me off. I mentally repeat that as he sets it on my bed. I want so badly to reach out and touch it, but I hold back. “You think this will fix everything?”
“No, but it arrived and I thought you’d like to have it. Just because you’re mad at me doesn’t mean I’ll keep a gift out of spite.”
Ugh, how am I supposed to resist when he’s so nice? “You should have told me about Nana.”
“Perhaps.” He looks at his hands. “We weren’t sure how it would progress, Jo. Your mother had it for a few years, and Dorothea didn’t want to raise the alarm if she had that long to figure it out. If we’d known this guy would drain her so quickly, yes, maybe the decision would have been different. But she didn’t know.”
I put a finger to the glossy box. “Even if we had a few years, you still should have told me. I’m not a little girl anymore, and I’ll be the next head of this house. I have a right to know when my family members get hurt.”
He purses his lips. “You’ll have to talk to your grandmother about it.”
“I . . .” I haven’t talked to Nana since I found out. Every time I think about it, my stomach gets sloshy and sick. There is so much to tell her, but I can’t watch her die like I watched Mom.
“She keeps asking about you, and Maggie is already tired of being grilled for updates.” He stands. “I can’t imagine how hard this is, but don’t forget that this isn’t only about you. Dorothea deserves much more than a cold shoulder, considering all she’s done for you.”
Watching him go, I’m stunned by the reproach. He shuts my door, but I continue staring at it, baffled that my dad is . . . a dad. How did it happen so quickly? That guilt trip made it feel like he’s been parenting for years. I glance at my pretty computer box, but I can’t get myself to open it. Instead, I flop back into my pillows, the remorse cutting straight to my heart.
He’s right. Of course he is.
I shouldn’t punish Nana, but I can’t help thinking about how long she kept my mother’s illness from me, too. Apparently, Mom had been Cursed around the time I turned four. I was too little to remember or to even know she was sick, so they hid it from me.
Nana didn’t tell me until I was six and a half, and by then I’d already noticed how quickly Mom got tired and how often she needed to go to the bathroom. I just didn’t know it was to throw up the black blood. It was bad enough learning Mom was that sick, but worse to know she’d been that way for a long time while I lived like nothing was wrong. I took her for granted, not knowing how little time I’d actually have with her.
I squeeze my eyes shut. No more crying. I’m so tired of this emptiness, this constant ache in my chest, as if I’ve lost part of my soul.
Grief is such a strange thing. Sometimes it seems to be gone entirely, but then one smell or sound or memory and it’s as if it was waiting there, in the shadows, until you noticed it following you.
Lavender envelops me, and I tense. My lungs can’t seem to get enough of it; they beg to breathe in more to make sure the scent is still there.
That’s when I realize only a moment of true grief can trigger the pendant. The voices kick in, but these sounds make me wonder if I want to look. I venture a peek and quickly shield my eyes again. Yup, that’s my mom and dad doing it. Apparently, the memories don’t come in order. Good to know. I really wish I could plug my ears, but I want to know when it switches.
This is way too much information.
“I love you, more than anything in the world.” Dad’s voice is surprisingly the same as it is now.
“And I love you forever,” Mom says.
As awkward as it is, I can’t help feeling sad, too. They were so happy, and she left because of me. Because of her duty to this house. She used to get this far-off look in her eyes, her smile sad and wistful. I wonder if all those times she was thinking of him.
“Mom!” My mother’s voice bursts with excitement, and figure it’s safe to look if Nana’s there. My heart stops at the sight of her belly, so large I can’t see her feet on the other end of the living-room couch. Her breathing is ragged, and her arms glisten with sweat. “I think it’s time!”
Nana comes into view, her face much younger than I ever remember it. She hands Mom a rag. “Bite down on that; don’t want you harming your jaw when the pain really kicks in. You think the contractions hurt? Well, you’re in for it.”
“Hardly comforting, Ma.”
I snort. Ah, Nana.
She checks Mom out down there, which I’m really glad I can’t see. “She’s ready, darling. Next time you get a contraction, push like you have to pass a—”
“I know!” she yells. “We’ve gone over this for nine months!”
And then she pushes. For a long time. Mom screams and snaps at Nana anytime she tries to give direction, and I start to wonder why this ended up in the Good Memories category because it scares the crap out of me.
“One more, Carmina. You’re almost there.” Nana takes hold of a goopy lavender blob I can only assume is me. So relieved this is not in color. Baby Me lets out a wail, and Nana holds me up for Mom to see. Even through all the nasty and monochrome, my hair is jet-black. “You did it, honey, and she’s beautiful!”
Mom’s hands reach out, eager to their fingertips. “Let me hold her.”
Nana cleans me and wraps me in a blanket. Then Mom takes me in her arms. I can hear her sniffling as she says, “Hi, beautiful. It’s so nice to finally meet you.” She kisses my forehead. “Oh, I wish Joseph were here to see you. He would love you as much as I do.”
She feeds me, which is kind of awkward, but I’m mesmerized by Baby Me, by how crisp this memory is, making the others seem a little hazy. Her joy is so intense I can feel it through the spell.
The scene changes, and it’s the first one I recognize. She’s in her bed, holding on to this very pendant, as I come bursting through the door in all my awkward childhood glory. My frizzy hair is worse than I remember, and I’m covered in dirt. No, those are my freckles. Mostly. I proudly hold up a massive bullfrog. “Look what I caught, Mom!”
“Wow!” she says, her voice not betraying how sick she was at this time.
“Nana said that if I found a big one it would make a stronger spell for you.” I kiss the frog. “I think this one will make you all better!”
She l
aughs. “I think so, too.”
I come over and give her a big kiss . . . with my frog-slime lips. “I love you, Mommy. I’m gonna give this to Nana now.” “Come back when you’re done?”
I nod, my hair bouncing wildly with the action. “I’ll bring you a pudding!”
She laughs loudly as I skip out the door. I’d forgotten how perfect her laugh was, warm and sincere, never mocking. It filled you with sunshine, made you want to do anything to hear it again. I never thought about it, but even when she was sick, she didn’t stop being that happy person I remember.
The scene changes again, and my eyes go wide. I know this one, too—she’s in San Francisco with Stacia, when she meets Dad for the first time.
“Don’t worry, Carmina,” Stacia says. “They’re nice. Well, except Jeff, but I’ll protect you from him.”
She gives her sunshine laugh. “Thanks.”
“There they are.” One of the other girls points to a group of guys outside a cafe. Dad’s there, but he’s not the one I can’t stop looking at. Next to him, tall and brooding, is a boy that looks exactly like Levi.
UNCORRECTED E-PROOF—NOT FOR SALE
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THIRTY-SIX
Stacia grabs the Levi Guy, who I guess is Jeff, before he says even one word to Mom. She’s already so engrossed with Dad that she’s not paying attention. Everyone else goes slightly hazy, as if her memory only sees my father, but I can tell Jeff is looking at my mother. Stacia whispers something to him. He may not be drenched in shadows and evil, but his glare makes me tremble the same way the Curse did when I cleansed Dad. In my gut, I know Jeff is the guy who killed my mom, the guy who killed Stacia. And I would bet a thousand dollars that he is Levi’s dad.
Stacia and Jeff whispering is all I get before Mom and Dad walk ahead of them into the restaurant. And then we’re back to a making-out memory, which is even more motivation for me to run downstairs to find my father. The moment I’m not alone, the pendant turns off. Dad has commandeered the dusty study for his office, and there he is, talking to someone on speakerphone. He holds up a hand to stop me, clearly in the middle of work.
I turn around and head for the living room, plopping down next to Maggie.
“Jo, you will not believe what Autumn did. She was totally flirting with this cute guy at a beach party and she’s all making fun of Callie, and then the boy is Callie’s older brother and Autumn gives him this blank look like, ‘Oh, crud, there goes my chance.’” She laughs. “It was awesome.”
I can’t help but grin. Maggie must be relaxed if she’s finally blabbering away like her normal self. “Has she learned The Very Important Lesson yet?”
“After the commercial, I bet.” She stuffs a wad of Cheetos in her mouth. The Crafts are big on all-natural food, so whenever Maggie visits she spends the whole time gorging on processed goods. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on? Because you seem different today—don’t think I can’t tell.”
I put my hand to the pendant. “I think I know who killed my mother.”
She coughs on her mouthful, and I hand her the liter of orange Fanta on the coffee table. She takes a few sips and then stares at me with her big, bright eyes. “What?”
“I saw him in—”
“Did you need something, Jo?” My dad stands in the study’s doorway.
“You had a roommate named Jeff, right?”
He raises his eyebrows. “How’d you know that?”
“What was he like? Did he seem interested in Mom?” My heart pounds in anticipation of his answers, even if I already know partially who he is. This is Mom’s killer we’re talking about, and I have a first-person source right here, one Jeff probably planned on getting rid of once he served his purpose.
Dad scratches his head. “Jeff Anderson? He was an average guy, kind of quiet, kept to himself. If he was interested in Carmina, he never said anything. Actually, he and Stacia were dating when we moved in together. We kind of lost touch with them after that, since we relocated closer to San Jose for my job.”
“I knew it.” Jeff probably Cursed Stacia first. Then he went for my mom once Stacia was dead. Why he’d use a Black, I’m not sure. But that must be how Levi came into being, and I’m pretty sure he’s the only one who knows the rest of this story.
“Knew what?” Dad asks.
“Jeff? He looks exactly like Levi, who is Stacia’s son. Stacia was killed by the Curse, too, so . . .”
Dad’s eyes widen. “You think he . . . ?”
I nod.
“But he was a totally normal guy!” Dad leans on the doorjamb. “I lived with him for months, and he never did anything bad. He didn’t seem like a killer.”
I give him a flat look. “How long did you live with Mom without knowing she was a witch?”
He deflates. “I never had a chance, did I? There was no way I could have protected her.”
I stand, never more determined to end this. “Nope. Honestly, you’re helpless, just like Kat and Gwen and everyone else. That’s why Mom protected you, not the other way around. And you have to be okay with that, because that will never change.”
His jaw slackens, but I keep talking. “That’s why I have to know everything that happens here. I am the protector—I’m the only one who can keep us safe right now. If I’m missing information, I could fail. And that means we’re dead. That’s why I’m mad. I’m tired of everyone thinking I’m the one who needs protecting. I am protecting you, and that’ll be even more true if Nana dies. So don’t ever forget it.”
I rush for the stairs, the power of knowledge pulsing through my veins. I can’t wait to tell Nana. She won’t give up if she knows how close we are. We have a name for the first time in a decade. We know what he is, what the curse does—hell, we even know who he works for. That only leaves one thing: how to kill him.
When I push through her door, a little of my fire extinguishes. Nana’s brittle hand hangs past the bed, her wrist dripping black blood into a basin. Her face is pale, and I know too well how close she is to death.
“Oh, Nana . . .”
She startles, her other hand going to her chest. “Josephine, there you are.”
I let out a long sigh, forcing myself to the basin. It’s practically full, so I take a cloth from her nightstand and cover her wrist. “That’s enough for today.”
“It eases the pressure,” she says. “I hated when Carmina would ask me to do this, but now I understand. The Curse is wicked, my dear. It doesn’t just drain your magic; it makes you crave it even more.”
“Shh.” I take her hand, not at all surprised that nothing needs to be said for us to pick up where we left off. “Don’t waste your strength.”
“Once I knew someone was taking my magic, I tried not to fill myself. But it hurts not to, worse than it normally does. I still try, but sometimes the pain is too much. The blackness builds in my blood, swells in my veins. Letting it drain . . .”
“Stop,” I say, unable to hear the finer details. “It’ll be over soon.”
“Don’t I know it.” She laughs a little. “That bastard will get as little from me as possible, even if it does kill me.”
“No, that’s not what I mean.” I tell her everything I’ve learned, from the Blacks’ treachery to the Shadows to Winn to how Mom’s pendant holds all her good memories.
Her black eyes glisten. “Jeff. How strange to have a name, and such a normal name, too.”
“Please hold on, Nana. I’m going to save you, and you can’t say no because if you’re this incapacitated that means I’m in charge.” I fight back the tears, determined to prove that I can do this, trying to convince myself I can. Seeing her like this puts everything in perspective—all that matters right now is saving her and our bloodline.
Her lips, barely there in the first place, disappear, like she’s trying to keep her protests from coming out. “And how do you plan on doing that?”
I crawl into the bed next to her. She seems so small and weak, barely a bump in the queen-size bed. “I don’t exactly have that figured out yet, but Levi . . . now that I know about his parents, I’m sure he has the answers I need.”
Her furrowed brow says she doesn’t like the idea. “You’re not talking to that Levi boy again. I don’t care if he claims to have principles or if he has information. It’s too risky. He could Curse you anytime he felt like it. You understand that, don’t you?”
“Fine. I won’t.” The lie feels awful on my tongue, but she doesn’t seem to notice. I know she’s thinking of my safety. Problem is, I’m only thinking of hers. “He once said Shadows were the worst mistake we ever made, which, to me, means that a witch somewhere in time made them. And if we made them . . .”
“We can unmake them,” she whispers. “Their power is an extension of our own, so we should be able to do anything they can.”
“Exactly. We just need to figure out how.” Which I’m pretty sure Levi can help me understand as well.
Her smile is weak, and yet warm. “No problem.”
I touch her silver-white hair, which I hardly ever see down. It’s softer than it looks, the ringlets not nearly as tight as mine or Mom’s. Whoever Nana loved, he must have had crazy curls. “What was my grandfather’s name?”
She eyes me. “You take to leadership and audacity far better than you think, dear.”
“Well?”
“Carlo,” she whispers. “I met him in Italy when I toured Europe and the old magic sites. He was a beautiful man, with a voice that made women throw themselves at his feet. But he came to me, and we spent the next few years in Florence, blissfully happy. You can imagine the rest.”
I can, and it hurts even for me. “Carlo, Carmina. Joseph, Josephine. Is this a tradition I wasn’t aware of?”
Her smile widens. “My father’s name was Theodore, so I suppose so.”
House of Ivy & Sorrow Page 18
