Chapter 20
Chapter Twenty
Honeysuckle House, Now
If houses had fingers, then Honeysuckle House could’ve counted the times it had spent the night alone on one hand.
There was the time Regina had lit a red candle, put on a matching shade of lipstick, and left in a car she’d purchased sometime after Violet had left Burdock Creek. Linda had been born nine months later.
Before that, it had only been left behind once, when Helen and Christopher took their daughters on holiday after the war, and the house didn’t much like to think of that trip.
It had been so excited to see the Buick pulling up the drive that it hadn’t noticed the car was going too fast, its tires swerving out of control.
Of all the deaths, that one the house should’ve been able to prevent, but it wasn’t fast enough.
The house had never really gotten the chance to say a proper goodbye to the first witch who had given it life.
Now, Honeysuckle House sat staring out over the fall leaves. Dusk had long since turned to dark. Inside, it felt empty and alone. It creaked the floorboards and rattled the pipes in an attempt to block out the silence, but it didn’t help. Every sound it made was a reminder of the sounds it lacked.
Laughter.
Whispers.
Footsteps on stairs.
With a heavy sigh and a settling of wood and plaster, the house closed the shutters and turned out the porch light.