Chapter 19
Charlee thumped Miles on the back of his already sore head. “I can’t believe you brought on another vision. I swear, you have no self-preservation.”
He’d caught her up on all she’d missed when she picked him up after school. She hadn’t been pleased. And that was with- out telling her about Jocelyn confirming his potential death.
He flicked sudsy water at her from the sink, most of it landing on the kitchen floor. “I’m prioritizing. Sorry, but with murder looming on the horizon, saving myself from a migraine and a bloody nose doesn’t come close.”
That only made her grumpier. “How about from now on, when Gabriel’s the voice of reason trying to stop you, take that as a sign you’re about to do something seriously stupid and don’t?”
Miles scrubbed another bottle and passed it to her to rinse, letting her stew in her feels.
He’d been stressed since Aunt Robin caught him and Gabriel, waiting for her to change her mind and rat them out.
Plus, neither of his parents had mentioned their investigation at the cemetery, and Miles was too chicken to ask.
Keeping his hands busy was a good distraction so he’d offered to clean and refill his mom’s empty ritual bottles that had piled up on the counter.
He’d gotten a surprised smile, a mug of Earl Grey, and hopefully, some brownie points.
“Jocelyn better hope I’m not there when you find her,” Charlee muttered, rubbing viciously at a stray herb plastered to the bottle. “I’m about to kick her ass for being such a stubborn, infuriating waste of time.”
Miles wished he were mature enough to say he wasn’t upset, but apparently, you could be pissed at someone while still understanding why they were doing something. His brain didn’t like the conflicting emotions.
“I feel bad for her, trapped down there for a century. Half-alive, half-dead.”
“That complicates our job too. How would you even release her once you found her?”
He’d asked himself that same question. “I have no idea. We might have to wing it once we get there. Bring supplies to release her spirit and free her physically if she’s being kept captive.”
It wasn’t a great plan, but it was all he had.
“Since the first premonition, I’ve had at least some direction.” He passed Charlee the last bottle and unplugged the sink. Water and soap swirled down the drain, gurgling. “Now everything’s a mess. I don’t know where to go from here.”
It hurt to admit that the needle of Miles’s compass was wavering. He felt cracked open after confessing to Jocelyn, leaking ugly truths left and right.
“Your direction hasn’t changed,” Charlee retorted, turning the faucet off with a dismissive smack. She dried her hands on her jeans. “You’re just frustrated, and Jocelyn only made things worse.”
She wasn’t wrong.
Hands no longer submerged underwater, Miles checked his phone. He had a text waiting for him from Gabriel.
Any further side effects from your vision?
Your cousin hasn’t called me in a panic,
so I assume all is well.
Miles wasn’t above admitting that Gabriel checking in gave him butterflies.
All good over here… the only diagnosis
from doctor charlee is that I’m an idiot
Charlee peeked at his screen as she shuffled by. “Is that Gabriel?”
“Yeah.” The butterflies shriveled up and died. “I didn’t tell him, but I asked Jocelyn if Felicity’s the murderer.”
A bottle clattered across the table as it slipped from Charlee’s fingers. “And? What did she say?”
“Nothing, of course.” Miles slipped into the chair across from her.
All the refill ingredients were laid out on the table, a herby, musky smell mingling with lemon dish soap.
“But Jocelyn made a point to talk about how easily the grimoire can turn you against family. It seemed like a hint-hint moment.”
Charlee worried at her bottom lip, twirling a dried twig of rosemary. “You know I’m the farthest thing from Team Felicity, but killing your own kid is hardcore. Do you really think she’s capable of that?”
He didn’t know, and that scared him. “Jocelyn said the grimoire preys on your worst fears. I’d be willing to bet hers is losing her powers, and through that, her money. If she finds out Gabriel is trying to break the curse, he could end up as collateral.”
They’d discussed this exact possibility before. Miles despised how real it felt now.
Charlee’s harsh exhale blew errant rose petals across the table. “I guess I can’t argue with that. Blood didn’t matter to Florence. And look at my own mom—me being her kid doesn’t mean shit to her.”
“That’s different.” Trauma and shame halting a relationship wasn’t even close to committing murder for your own gain.
Charlee was still hurting from Robin’s cold shoulder the other morning.
“All I’m saying is, it’s not beyond the realm of possibility.
How am I supposed to tell Gabriel she’s my top suspect? ”
Amy and Jenna paraded into the kitchen, grabbing a jug of apple juice from the fridge. They were chatting about a movie they’d watched the night before, ignoring Miles and Charlee.
Charlee leaned in and lowered her voice. “Gabriel knows his mom. It can’t be that much of a surprise to hear.”
“She’s still his mom.” Miles didn’t quite know how to explain.
“There’s this… wistfulness when he talks about her, like part of him is hoping she might come around.
That she might start caring about him.” Charlee had turned to rage to cope with her mom’s coldness; Gabriel went with detachment.
Another of his carefully crafted masks. “I don’t think I can tell him. ”
“Keeping secrets never goes well,” Charlee warned.
“I’m trying to protect him.” He could hear how that sounded, like every toxic half of a relationship trying to justify their questionable actions.
Charlee made a face.
“Fine, you’re right. I’ll talk to him.”
Amy skirted around the table to give the two of them a suspicious look. “What’re you guys talking about?”
“Mind your own business,” Charlee snipped. She corked a bottle of lavender and set it aside.
Amy scowled and grabbed Jenna’s arm, almost spilling her glass of juice.
“You know what, we have something to say. We’ve been feeling seriously out of the loop and underappreciated.
” Her chin jutted out in a pout. “We know you’re talking about Ger—Gabriel.
We deserve to hear what’s going on after we saved his life. ”
Miles ran a hand down his face, feeling a thousand years old. “You didn’t save his life, and Emily was the one who—”
“Maybe we should ask Mom,” Amy interrupted snidely. “Get her opinion.” That little brat.
“Don’t act like you’re going to blackmail me.”
“I wouldn’t have to if you told us what’s going on.”
“We just want to know if Gabriel’s in trouble,” Jenna murmured meekly, tugging at a loose string hanging from her ratty sweatshirt. “Amy’s getting ready to do her first job, and Aunt Robin’s been teaching me about spells and charms. We could help.”
It was hard to say no to Jenna when that tentative confidence was shining in her eyes for the first time Miles could remember.
Charlee’s tone was noticeably gentler when she said, “How about we promise we’ll tell you if we need help.
But until then, you two have to keep quiet.
Because if you tell your mom or anyone else, it’s not Miles who’ll get in trouble, it’s Gabriel.
And he’ll never come over here again. Is that what you want? ”
They shook their blonde heads in unison.
“I didn’t think so.” Charlee rattled a bag of shriveled juniper berries and muttered to Miles, “I guess it runs in the family.”
“What?”
“Weakness for a pretty face and a bad attitude.”
Miles kicked her under the table.
His phone buzzed loudly, and Charlee snickered. “He knows we’re talking about him.”
“That’s not funny.”
I’ve been reading over the notes you sent me.
I think I’ve found something helpful.
Before leaving school, Miles had scribbled down what he could remember of his conversation with Jocelyn, minus the Felicity part, for Gabriel and Emily to look over.
When Jocelyn passed along her message
for Rosalie, she said that her home was her
prison, even in death. If she’s being literal,
it’s a fair conclusion to draw that her tomb
is on my family’s property.
Miles had to read it twice before what Gabriel was saying clicked.
It matched with what he’d read in Jocelyn’s journal— her parents doing everything to keep her in the house, too embarrassed by their poverty to venture into Thistle and face the judgment of the townsfolk.
Too focused on their image and reputation to risk it by letting their children run free.
She’d been trapped, suffocating within its walls.
We already checked the old house…
you thinking there’s another
hidden room we missed?
Miles’s mom came into the kitchen. He shoved his phone into his pocket, nearly knocking over a jar of graveyard dirt in his haste. She must’ve chalked it up to his usual clumsiness because all she said was, “I’m making a batch of rosemary oil if you’ll set me aside a few clean bottles.”
“Sure thing.” Charlee started tapping off measuring spoons and twisting on caps. “Hey, I saw Thistle Cemetery was on the news for grave desecration or something… did you and Uncle Adam look into it?”
Miles was going to have a heart attack. His mom was digging through the cupboard, so he gave Charlee a warning look.
“We tried.” Sarah sighed, piling bundles of dried rosemary next to the sink.
“The cops beat us there and had the whole place locked down. And the cemetery refuses to let us investigate. You know how they feel about us… if we’re not charlatans, we’re using black magic.
They don’t want us there. We can’t push the issue, no matter what we suspect. ”
“Maybe it was just some gross prank,” Charlee suggested, knotting a bundle of crow feathers.