Chapter 20 #2
I sink into the chair, narrowly avoiding knocking over the large framed photograph leaning against it. The photo of the four of us. Proof of all our magic, of Hazel’s locked away, hiding in the secret basement for all these years.
“What about all the bread I cooked?” Rose finally breaks the thoughtful silence, voice plaintive. “I spent so long making that damn bread.”
“I think I understand what happened with the bread that day,” I say slowly.
“What do you mean?” Rose asks.
“Think about it. Grandma and Nonna cooked all of that bread, and gave it out… And for what?”
They all stare at me, waiting for an answer.
“For what?” Rose repeats, sounding annoyed.
“For a distraction,” I tell them. “Think about it. They were boarding up all the windows. They were prepping for the storm. And the four of us? We should have been down there with them. We should have been handing out bread too. And where were we? Where were we?”
I press them, tapping the back of the photograph a little too angrily.
A piece of paper backing falls off the back and drifts to the carpet.
“We were doing this. The bread was a distraction. That doesn’t mean we shouldn’t go give it out, because I’m sure people are hungry.
And as weird as that bread is, who knows?
Maybe it’ll help. Maybe the octopi cleaning up our stores want some bread.
” I shrug. “I don’t know. I don’t even know if bread is good for octopi. ”
“You’re getting way off track,” Posey says, holding up a hand. You think Grandma baked all that bread with Nonna just to distract everyone from the fact that we were doing that?
She points at the picture.
“Calling the corners,” I say. “Setting the ward spell.”
“What does that mean?” Rose asks. “Calling the corners? We’ve never done that since.”
I shrug. “I don’t know. But I remember.”
“I’ve seen every movie about witches ever,” Rose says, “And they all have some version of it. But that doesn’t mean it’s real.”
“Of course it’s not real,” Posey says. “Movies aren’t real.”
“Movies are great,” Hazel says. “They’re not accurate, but they’re great.”
“Fair,” Rose says. “So what is the spell then? You said you remember but you don’t know, so tell us what you remember.”
I pick up the piece of paper that fell off the back of the picture, thinking it’s probably just part of the frame falling apart.
It’s not.
Hazel sucks in a breath as we all realize what I’m holding at the same time.
An envelope.
“It has our names on it.” Hazel’s voice is hushed, and Rose’s eyes are round as dinner plates.
“If you don’t open that envelope right now and read it to us, so help me God, I am going to jump over there on my good foot and rip it out of your hands and read it myself.”
“Can you calm down?” Rose tells Hazel. “OnlyFeet can’t have you getting your other ankle hurt.”
“You’re all dicks and I hate you,” Hazel says, grinning in spite of her words.
Caleb laughs, then sobers. “You want me to give you all some privacy?”
“No,” I bark at him, then soften. “Unless we’re being too much. Or if one of you wants him to go.”
He sets his hand on my shoulder, stopping the flow of my anger. Which isn’t about him. Not at all.
“Sorry I snapped,” I tell him.
I take a deep, shaky breath and blow it out, trying to compose myself. I take a moment look at my sisters, really look at them.
“I’m sorry,” I tell them. “I’m on edge. This is bringing up so many memories that I haven’t dealt with in so long, and I’m sorry if I’m acting crazy.”
“We like it when you act crazy,” Hazel says. “Reminds us all you’re human.”
“That’s a lot to deal with,” Rose tells me.
I reach down and pet Gunner’s head. I’m not sure if it’s a silent apology to him too, or just for the simple act of rubbing the velvety soft ears of the animal I’ve loved my whole life.
“It’s hard,” I tell them. “I try so hard to pretend like I’ve got it all together. And I want to protect the three of you more than anything. But I think this is making me realize that trying to protect you has only made things harder for myself. And for all of you. And maybe even the whole town.”
“You can’t blame yourself for all of this,” Rose says, gesturing wildly. “You didn’t make that storm happen. You didn’t cause the flooding. And you can’t fix everything by yourself. I think that’s the… thing we all need to realize.”
She points at the picture of the four of us. “The four of us work better together than apart. We always have. Even if Mom and Dad left because they were afraid of our magic — afraid of what we were — we had Grandma. And we have each other. We always will.”
“You have me too,” Caleb pipes up. “I may not have any magical powers, but I’m happy to help the four of you however I can.”
I’m afraid to look at him.
I still remember the way my sisters’ eyes glowed. The deeper, uncanny timbre of their voices as we recited whatever spell it was that locked the ward into place to keep Silverlight Shore safe.
“Ivy,” Hazel says softly. “We’re all here now. We can’t change the past. We can’t change ourselves.”
“All we can do is try to move forward.” I hold my hand out.
Caleb takes it without a second thought. It’s warm and dry and feels infinitely steadier than the trembling place it occupied on my knee a moment ago. He squeezes my hand briefly.
I make myself open the envelope.
Yellowed with age, a simple piece of notebook paper unfolds from inside.
“It’s from Grandma,” I say, recognizing her handwriting instantly.
Grandma’s handwriting will always be etched into my memory — countless grocery lists I helped her write, little notes saying she had to work late but there was casserole in the fridge and how long to heat it up.
Directions for cooking all the recipes she taught us over the years, written on yellowed and stained index cards in her swooping penmanship.
Just the simple act of seeing that handwriting makes me feel like she’s in the room with us again.
“I wish you were here, Grandma,” I say out loud. My sisters murmur their agreement, waiting for me to go on. My shoulders heave as I take a deep breath and begin to read.
“My sweet girls — Hazel, Posey, Rose, and Ivy.
If you found this picture, that means you’ve called forth the basement in a time of need.
I’m sorry I didn’t show this to you before now, but the memory of that day is so painful for so many reasons.
Most of all watching your parents drive away from you.
Most of you were too young to understand what it was.
But Ivy girl, I know that you did. Your mother took this picture to show me the proof of what was happening.
She was supposed to be in town with Nonna and me, handing out the bread we made the night before as part of our thanks for the volunteers boarding up the shops and streets of Silverlight Shore before that awful storm.
You girls were up to something that night.
We didn’t figure out what until your mother showed me this picture.
I tried my best to keep your magic under control.
I bound parts of it. I didn’t think any magic was worth the pain of seeing the disapproval on the woman who created you.
But I couldn’t control it. I wasn’t strong enough. ”
My voice breaks, and a tear drops onto the lined notebook paper, smudging the decades-old ink. I take another breath. My sisters are quiet. Their familiars are too. Caleb’s presence is steady behind my shoulder. No one urges me to continue.
“She took this picture to show me what you four were up to — to prove that none of the bindings I’d done were strong enough to keep you from discovering exactly what you could do.
The night we were baking bread, the four of you discovered a spell book.
A spell book with strong protection spells.
They weren’t spells I could ever work on my own.
But as you’ve seen in the basement, I’ve collected spell books, parchments, and scrolls full of information — recipes and potions I hoped to one day work with alongside the four of you.
I think working that spell so young did something to the four of you.
I’ve wished for a long time there was someone else I could ask.
But as much as I know about witchcraft, there’s so much more I don’t.
Your mother found you deep in an incantation you discovered in one of my spell books.
It was designed to prevent harm from coming to a place and the people you loved.
The four of you worked that spell in such a way and made pacts with the guardians of the East, West, North, and South… ”
Something has been scratched out.
I peer at the words, trying to make them out, but it’s no use.
“I don’t know what she said here,” I tell my sisters. “There’s a whole few lines scratched out.” I flip the paper over, to where the letter continues and draw a deep breath.
Hazel’s trembling slightly. I can’t tell if it’s fear, anticipation, or excitement.
I swallow and continue.
“If you’re reading this note, it means that this picture is relevant again and the ward you created that night needs to be repaired or reworked.
I don’t know what pact you made with the guardians.
The four of you were too traumatized to ever tell me.
As time passed, I decided it would be easier if I didn’t bring up those horrible memories again.
I don’t know how to help you with whatever problem you’re facing now.
If I could, I would tell you how to fix it.
But trust that you’ll know what to do. If you could do it when you were small children, you can do it now as grown women.
I love you all so very much and am so proud of you.
Love always,
Grandma.”
I fold the letter back up and slip it into the envelope.
I wipe my arm across my eyes.
“Well,” I say, my voice cracking, “thank God I didn’t put on any makeup.”
“Yeah,” Posey says with a watery laugh. “You’d look like a raccoon right now.”
“I think raccoons are cute,” Hazel argues.
“We know they’re your favorite,” Rose tells her. “Lil trash panda weirdo.”
“Rude,” Oatmealsays. “Derogatory.”
“I’m not sure that was much help,” I say, smoothing out the letter agin.
“Why didn’t you tell us?” Hazel asks quietly. She sounds so young.
My memory flickers back to her holding Mr. Bunny, crying quietly while I held her against my chest.
But she’s not four anymore. She’s grown; we all are.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “I guess I thought I would protect you by not telling you about that day. Not reminding you… I should have.”
Gunner whines softly and presses against my legs.
“You should never think you have to protect us from your own hurt,” Posey says gently. “We’re your sisters. We understand you better than anyone.”
“Almost anyone,” Caleb interrupts.
Posey laughs, and I can’t help smiling even though my chest still aches.
“I don’t think I’ll ever be able to talk about what happened that day without wanting to cry,” I say.
The weight on my shoulders isn’t quite as heavy now.
“So you’re telling me we baked all that bread for nothing?” Rose asks.
This time we all laugh, and some of the sadness dissipates, because it is the past.
And no matter what, the four of us still have each other.
“I love you all so much,” I tell my sisters. “I should say that more.”
“Don’t go getting all cinnamon roll syrupy sweet on us now, you loser,” Posey snaps.
“We have work to do.” She holds up the giant leather-bound spell book she grabbed from the basement.
“I say we find this goddamn incantation. We call the corners again. And we figure out whatever pact we made with the guardians.” She points at me.
“I think I already know one of the guardians you called.”
“The kraken.” Rose nods.
“I agree,” I say. “I definitely managed to call a kraken when I was like twelve years old.” I roll my eyes.
“You always were a freaking prodigy,” Rose says.
“I’m going to make some tea,” Caleb says. “While the four of you figure out the incantation, I’ll make sure everyone eats lunch. That okay with you all?”
“Really nice,” Hazel says. “Maybe I should help, they don’t need me—”
“Don’t you move a muscle,” Posey tells her, pointing menacingly.
“She’s absolutely right,” Rose says. “You’re part of this, Hazel. Whatever magic you have, you pushed it down after that day. We’re going to find it again. Don’t worry.”
“Don’t you think if I still had magic I would have a familiar by now?” Hazel says. “It’s not like I haven’t tried. We would know.”
Something tickles at the back of my mind, but I ignore it. Instead, I nod toward the spell book Posey is holding. “Let’s open the book and get to the bottom of this,” I say. “And Hazel — we’re going to figure you out too. If you want your magic back, we’ll make that happen.”
“As a family,” Rose says.
“As a coven,” Posey adds, doing a hand gesture I assume is supposed to look mystical but just looks like bad jazz hands.
Hazel snorts and rolls her eyes. “Fine. But I’m not getting my hopes up.”
“As if,” Rose says. “Your hopes are always up.”
“Yeah,” Fig says, flapping her wings. “You’re like the eternal sunshine of the messy coven.”
“That would be a killer band name,” Rose tells Fig.
Posey sets the enormous book on the coffee table, and it falls open, pages flipping in an invisible wind that that sends our hair flying and Fig into the air.