Chapter Eleven
I was in the library when Ashley found me hours later, once again carrying food.
‘Since you didn’t touch anything at breakfast.’
She placed her tray directly on top of my work, covering the yellow legal pads and Post-its and pencils. ‘Starving yourself isn’t going to help you fight your enemies.’
‘Might save some money on the grocery budget,’ I said as she opened a bag of chips and dumped them on a plate next to a turkey sandwich.
I fished out one small chip and took a bite, making a face as the salt crystals cracked on my tongue. She’d changed her clothes from this morning, her sweatpants replaced by tight flared jeans and a pretty floral shirt, her long brown hair braided over one shoulder.
‘What time is it?’ I asked.
‘Almost two.’
She pulled one of the yellow legal pads out from under the tray and squinted at my list.
‘Your penmanship is almost as bad as your biscuits. What’s this? “How can I convince Lydia she doesn’t want to be a bitch?” Good luck with that.’
‘It says witch, as you well know,’ I said as she scanned the rest of it. ‘I thought if I wrote down everything I need to figure out, it might not seem so overwhelming.’
‘And?’
‘And I was wrong.’
Pushing the plate to one side, I dropped my head into my hands and groaned. Ashley walked around the desk, took a seat in the chair opposite mine and kicked up her feet, resting them inches away from my nose.
‘Thought you weren’t allowed to write this stuff down. Witchy by-laws and all.’
‘I’m not documenting anything.’ I spoke louder than necessary, just in case any ancestral ghosts happened to be passing by and felt the need to police my list. ‘It’s just a list, nothing incriminating, and I’ll burn it when I’m done.’
‘Hmm,’ Ashley said before reading my list out loud. ‘“Wolf attack, Catherine missing, why can’t I see the ghosts, how can I convince Lydia she doesn’t want to be a bitch—”’
‘Witch.’
‘I stand by my interpretation. Prophecy, where does blessing come from, and, oh, interesting, this last one is underlined, one, two, three, four times? Jackson. Tell me, darling niece of mine, whyever would you need to underline Jackson Powell’s name four times when your honey, Wyn, didn’t make the list at all? ’
‘Wyn isn’t on the list because I’m not worried about him,’ I said, although it wasn’t entirely true.
Wyn wasn’t on the list because every time I thought about him, I was overcome with guilt I did not have the emotional bandwidth to entertain. I allowed myself one self-indulgent sigh and rocked back against my leather chair.
‘Why is nothing ever easy?’ I said. ‘With everything else that’s going on, wouldn’t you think the universe would at least give me a pass on boy trouble?’
Ashley leaned forward to steal a handful of my chips. ‘It’s only trouble if you have feelings for him. Which you don’t. Right?’
‘Right,’ I said, sounding way more sure than I felt. ‘I mean, I like him as a friend. Do I think he’s attractive? Sure. Do I like spending time with him? Sure. If I had never met Wyn, would things be different? Who knows.’
‘Not so shabby for a runner-up prize.’
‘Jackson doesn’t come in second to anyone,’ I said too quickly, looking away when she raised an eyebrow.
‘But you love Wyn.’
‘I love Wyn,’ I confirmed. ‘And only Wyn.’
‘Not to make myself unpopular but …’ She nudged my plate towards me and I obediently picked up half the sandwich and took a bite. ‘Can I ask why?’
I looked back at her, confused.
‘Why do I love Wyn?’
She nodded, waiting for my answer while I chewed and swallowed.
It was absurd to me, the thought of having to justify our connection.
Wasn’t it clear to everyone? Wasn’t it as obvious as the sun in the sky?
According to the look on Ashley’s face, it was not, and when I searched for the right words to describe it, I struggled.
‘Because we’re part of each other,’ I said finally. ‘It’s like we’re woven together. If you pulled on one thread, we would both unravel.’
‘Deep.’ Ashley’s eyebrows flashed up her forehead. ‘Also he’s stupid hot.’
‘Doesn’t hurt his case, but that’s not why I love him.’
I paused again, looking for words that didn’t exist.
‘I don’t know how else to explain it,’ I said, ‘other than to say we’re the same. Not two pieces that fit together but one whole that should never have been separated. He is me and I am him. I know we’re meant to be together the same way I know I have to keep breathing.’
‘Same person, huh? So I only have to buy y’all one Christmas gift?’ She opened her mouth and tossed in another chip. ‘Then there isn’t much of a problem here, is there? Jackson likes you. You like Wyn. Wyn likes you. Too bad, Jackson. Why are you so vexed?’
It was something I’d been wondering since he left and I didn’t like the answer I’d come up with.
‘Because,’ I said, dropping my voice as though afraid the books might hear me. ‘What if I’m wrong?’
‘About what?’
‘About Wyn’s feelings,’ I made myself say, grimacing at another stab of guilt. ‘About mine.’
‘Oh, brother.’
She grabbed the glass of lemonade and took a swig.
‘Should’ve thrown some bourbon in here,’ she muttered before wiping the palm of her hand over her face.
‘OK, let’s go at this from the top. As for whether or not you’re wrong about Wyn, honey, there’s no way to be sure about that.
Smarter women than you have done dumber things than fall for the first pretty boy to bat his eyes in her direction.
For what it’s worth, I believe he loves you. ’
‘I know he does,’ I said, as certain as it was possible to be. ‘But people who love me have hurt me before. How am I supposed to know if that’s enough?’
She didn’t speak for a long while. Instead, she sipped her drink and went on eating my chips until they were all gone. I ate my sandwich in silence. We were thinking of the same people. People who loved us but still made choices that hurt us all. Her mother, her brother, my grandmother, my father.
‘Since I can’t read those boys’ minds, let’s go back to you,’ Ashley said when the plate was completely clear.
‘Pretend you were meeting them both brand new. Jackson is the easier option on paper. Good kid from a good family, got great prospects, and yes, even as someone with a lifelong preference for the ladies, I can see he’s a looker.
Doesn’t hurt that he thinks the sun comes up every day just to hear you crow, and even better, his family doesn’t want you dead. ’
‘As far as we know,’ I said.
‘Even if they did, I’d rather take on Virginia and Alex Powell than a whole pack of werewolves,’ she pointed out.
‘The most vicious thing the Powells can do is have you barred from the Savannah ladies bridge club. Social suicide, yes, but would you rather be excluded from society holiday parties or have your guts ripped out by a pack of wolves?’
‘First one,’ I replied, gulping down what was left of my unspiked lemonade. ‘I’d very much like to keep my guts intact.’
She inclined her head in agreement.
‘And then we have Wyn,’ she said. ‘Also missed every branch of the ugly tree, also eyeballs to entrails in love with you. Polite, which I appreciate, but also a Were. Which might not be quite as big of a deal if you hadn’t, you know …
’ she dragged her hand across her throat and made a croaking sound.
‘Offed his brother. Things like that make holiday parties a little complicated.’
‘Especially if his pack knows,’ I replied, eyes on the pressed tin ceiling.
‘They were going to find out eventually. You know you can’t live a life built on lies.’
‘If that’s right, how come so many people try?’
When I looked back to my aunt, her gaze had turned steely. She picked up a pencil and tapped it against the legal pad.
‘I once told you not to be a fool for love and I stand by that. One way or another, people always show you who they are eventually. It’s up to you to decide whether you want to wait around to see it or make the call yourself.’
The list swam in front of my eyes, my own handwriting, the familiar loops and swirls, turning into incomprehensible scribbles on the page.
‘I just don’t know what to do,’ I said. ‘I thought coming into my full magic would make things easier, not more difficult.’
‘You can put wheels on your grandma but it won’t make her a wagon,’ Ashley replied. ‘You have the tools but you don’t know how to use them.’
Flicking her legs down from the desk, she stood slowly, picking up the empty chip packet and folding it three times into a small square.
‘Stop looking for answers in the library and start searching in the right place. You’re not studying for a test, you’re studying yourself.’
‘If only we had a room for that,’ I said with a sigh.
‘We do.’
Slipping the foil square into the back pocket of her jeans, she gave me a pointed look.
‘It’s time to stop pretending it doesn’t exist. You’ve tried everything else, done all that you can on your own and nothing has changed. A strong woman knows when it’s time to ask for help.’
I knew exactly what she was talking about.
‘I don’t want to,’ I said, quiet but certain. ‘Not after what she did in there.’
‘We don’t always have the privilege of having everything the way we want it,’ Ashley said with a soft touch on my shoulder. ‘You’ve got to be stronger than your fear, Em. You’re not just a Bell witch, you know, you’re my niece as well. Don’t let me down.’
When she left the room, tray in hand, she didn’t bother to close the door. An invitation for me to follow. To go somewhere I’d been avoiding for a whole month.
Bell House was a mansion, four floors and more rooms than I could count on both hands, and there was more than one we left alone.
As well as the library, the kitchen and the parlour, there was a study, a formal dining room and a breakfast room we never used.
Behind the door opposite the library, a staircase led down to the garden level and three closed-up guest suites that had been untouched for decades.
And upstairs, beyond mine, Ashley’s and Catherine’s rooms, the third floor, my parents’ old suite.
But that wasn’t what Ashley was talking about.
There was another room I’d deemed off limits, one I’d entered just once before and only then in the most dire of circumstances.
I found myself on my feet, walking towards the blue-painted door at the end of the hallway, ignoring the anxious reverberations of the house.
Catherine’s craft room.
The place she went to work her darkest magic, hide her secrets, cast curses and spells. The place she had offered up her own blood to take the lives of others.
If Bell House was a living thing, that room was its beating heart.
And like it or not, it was time for me to step inside.