Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Evie, Now
After her tenth text from Florence earlier that day, Evie had silenced her notifications.
While she understood her sister had a difficult time coming to the house, Evie had survived the same trauma.
Were their roles reversed, she’d have been there for Florence in a heartbeat.
She tried to remind herself that it was better Florence hadn’t been there, better she knew nothing of Evie’s discovery.
Not that it changed the way Evie felt about her absence.
Evie sat on Angela’s couch with a slice of pepperoni pizza while they watched a movie of Clara’s choosing.
Clara curled up between the two of them and gave a steady stream of commentary throughout the film.
As much as Evie tried to respond to her daughter thoughtfully, her thoughts kept straying to her mother’s journal, her mind picking apart the spell as best she could without the pages sitting open in front of her.
Angela reached an arm behind Clara and gently tapped Evie’s shoulder.
“You okay?” she mouthed.
“Distracted,” Evie murmured.
“Soon,” Angela whispered.
When the credits finally started to roll, Evie wanted nothing more than to tuck Clara in and start working through the spell. Only after she made sure Clara brushed her teeth and they read one of Clara’s favorite picture books together did Evie finally get the chance.
She sat on Angela’s couch, going through each line of the page from her mother’s journal.
She flipped through her newfound tarot deck to discover it was missing both the temperance and the magician cards.
She reached for Clara’s bag, which she’d left beside the couch, and fished out her sister’s deck.
She rifled through it until she found the temperance card.
It was exactly as she’d remembered it. A woman stood inside the workshop behind Honeysuckle House, where the Caldwell witches dipped their candles.
Honeysuckle vines twined around a shelf full of powdered herbs and candle-making supplies.
She held a bottle in each hand. Melted wax flowed between them.
This card had made Evie certain sharing her magic would protect her family.
“Any luck?” Angela asked as she brought Evie a cup of tea. She sat close enough to Evie that their shoulders almost touched.
“Not yet,” Evie said. “I can’t believe the house burned. We’re just as cursed as we were thirteen years ago. I’m sure Florence is sitting in her shop thinking she was right, ready to say ‘I told you so.’ But for all we know, her decision not to use her magic is the reason this happened.”
Angela rested a hand on Evie’s shoulder, and Evie leaned into her touch.
“Better we know now than in four days,” Angela said. “At least there’s still time to do something.”
“If I can figure out this spell and direct the binding magic to stop whatever is affecting the house, we might have a chance,” Evie said.
“Anything I can do to help, I’m here,” Angela said. “And I know it doesn’t feel like it, but Florence is, too. Maybe if you show her the spell—”
“She made her position clear this afternoon. I have to do this on my own. Knowing her, she’d tell me to burn Mom’s journal and keep everyone away from the house until after the thirteenth.”
“Maybe she’s right,” Angela said. “The way your mom treated you and Florence? You can’t trust her.”
“I have to do something,” Evie said.
“Cancel the festival,” Angela said. “Close the doors until the curse day has come and gone. Stay here, with me.”
“If leaving was enough to stop it, my mom and my grandma would’ve left when Florence was born. My mom wouldn’t have kept us in the house the year my dad died. He tried to leave, and the curse took him.”
It was something Evie had thought about a lot over the years.
Her memories from childhood were hazy—full summers nothing more than an impression—but her mind had preserved the day her father died like a film.
When she closed her eyes, she could still feel the pain in her scalp, the way his arms had felt around her in the hallway the last time he held her, his glassy eyes looking skyward.
Something had shifted deep inside Evie that day, like the space where her power sat tucked up under her heart had caved in on itself, going cold.
If she hadn’t demanded he go in and get her necklaces, maybe they would’ve made it out.
It didn’t make sense for their mother to keep them in the house, to cast a spell on her father. Not unless she really was trying to protect him.
“Our best chance is to finish what my mother started,” Evie said.
“Maybe she’s not the only one who can give us answers.” Angela leaned forward and spread the stack of journals out across the coffee table. She picked up the oldest-looking book and flipped it open.
Evie leaned closer to Angela, looking over her shoulder. The inside cover of the journal read: Regina Caldwell, 1960. Return if found.
“That’s my grandmother,” Evie said.
Angela tilted her head to the side as she counted on her fingers. “It’s also a curse year. You and Florence always said if you knew how the curse began, you’d have a better chance of breaking it.”
“But it started thirteen years before that,” Evie said.
“Still,” Angela said. “Clara’s spell opened that room for you. There has to be a reason those diaries were hiding in there.”
Angela leaned forward and opened the rest of the journals. Every single one was from a curse year:
Violet Caldwell’s Thoughts and Spells. 1960.
Regina Caldwell. 1973.
My Diary by Linda Caldwell. 1973.
Regina Caldwell. 1986.
Property of Linda Caldwell. 1986.
Linda Caldwell. 1999.
“There’s not enough time to read all of these and figure out my mom’s spell,” Evie said.
“We could give a few to Florence.” Angela quickly flipped through the pages until she got to the back half, which was full of spells.
Toward the end, one was dog-eared. She opened to that page to find a list that mirrored the one Evie had found in her mother’s journal.
A few items had been crossed off, and the brown candle was missing, but it was clear the two were related.
“This is almost the same spell,” Evie said, taking the journal from Angela. “It looks like my grandmother tried to do what my mother was doing.”
“But I thought they didn’t know there was a curse until after the second victim,” Angela said.
“What if she realized it, but she was too late to stop it?” Evie said. “Maybe if I compare the two spells …”
“Before you do that, you have to do something about the house,” Angela said. “It turned that woman out of her bed. It caught fire. It’s not safe to bring your guests back.”
Evie hated to admit it, but Angela was right. “I know,” Evie said. “I can’t let the guests come back. At least until I can complete the spell.”
Evie took a long drink of her tea then leaned her head back against the couch. “I really thought we were safe—that sharing my magic with the town was all it would take. But now that the house has burned, I don’t know what to think. I could lose Clara or Florence. Or you.”
Angela took Evie’s mug and set it on the coffee table. Then she took Evie’s hands in hers. “Or we could lose you.” Heat spread from Evie’s fingers, up her arm, and into her throat.
“I know. You all care about me, too.” Evie stared at their joined hands, afraid to look up and into Angela’s eyes. Afraid to find out if this thing Evie had felt burning between them was all in her head.
“It’s more than caring about you,” Angela said, voice low.
Angela, who had driven her home when Honeysuckle House caught on fire.
Angela, who had been at her side when Evie was all alone as a young mother.
Angela, whose very presence lit Evie up inside.
For years, Evie had done her best to ignore her growing feelings for the other woman—all for the sake of her sister.
But if Florence couldn’t be there for Evie, then what reason did Evie have to stay away from Florence’s best friend?
Angela rubbed her thumb along the side of Evie’s hand. Then, she reached over and tilted Evie’s chin toward her. Evie’s eyes drifted up until they locked on hers.
“Aren’t you afraid of the curse?” Evie whispered. “That if I … if we …”
“Terrified.” Angela pressed a hand to her chest, and the fear in her eyes made Evie want to rage or weep or scream.
This was why her sister had kept everyone at arm’s length.
Because every person she loved was at risk, and she decided it was better to never know them, to never love them, than to be the reason they lost their life.
Evie didn’t want to live like that. She couldn’t live like that. But she couldn’t hurt Angela either. She started to pull back, but Angela brought her other hand to Evie’s cheek. Evie’s lips parted, a surprised gasp slipping through.
“I’m scared the curse might take you from me, or me from you,” Angela said. “But that doesn’t change how I feel about you. How I think you feel about me.”
They sat like that, suspended for what felt like hours, this ember that had been smoldering between them for years finally flickering to life.
Slowly, Evie threaded her fingers through Angela’s.
She pushed forward at the same time Angela did, and they met in the middle.
When their lips touched—soft and supple and sweet—the flame became a fire.
Evie’s mouth parted, making way for Angela’s tongue.
It glided against Evie’s before sweeping her mouth.
Angela pressed her hand to Evie’s shoulder, gentle at first, until they were falling.
Evie on the couch, Angela on Evie. Chest to chest, heart to heart.
The journal and the cards and the curse forgotten.
Angela’s twists fell forward, curtaining Evie as she looked up into Angela’s eyes. Evie loosened her grip on Angela and brought her hands to either side of her face. Then she lifted her head from the couch and deepened their kiss.
When they finally broke apart, Angela held herself up with her hands on either side of Evie while Evie came up onto her elbows.
She stared into Angela’s eyes, the pupils so wide it was hard to see where the black ended and the deep brown began.
Evie reached up and brushed her thumb over Angela’s cheek.
Angela leaned into her hand, and her eyelids fluttered softly.
“I’ve loved you for a long time,” Evie whispered. The words settled over them both, and Evie knew she had to find a way to keep Angela safe.