Chapter 57
Chapter Fifty-Seven
The sight of Violet on the front steps thirteen years ago had sent a current through the house’s wiring unlike anything it had felt before.
Honeysuckle House had been heartbroken after she’d left.
It had welcomed Tillie Grey with open doors and turned records and crisp sheets.
It had watched as that welcoming created a rift between Violet and Regina the house didn’t understand.
When Tillie had slipped under the water, the house had felt her hands pressing against the sides of the tub, unable to surface as the water pushed her down.
Though it had tried to pull the drain or tip the tub over, it had lost control of itself in that moment.
It wasn’t until Tillie stopped thrashing that it had any autonomy at all, and by then all it could do was rattle its pipes with grief.
It had done its best to be at Violet’s side after that, to let her know she wasn’t alone.
But Violet had left anyway. For the next few years, it was only Regina and the house.
Though they comforted each other, there were days when Regina went without speaking a word to the house, lost as she was in her own head.
There were others where she yelled and raged and threw things at the walls, as if the spell she’d cast the day Tillie died had twisted her.
That’s why the house had been overjoyed when Regina welcomed Linda into the world.
She’d dipped and burned a red candle, left for the night, and a few months later, her belly had grown.
Honeysuckle House had watched over her as she gave birth on the bed upstairs—no doctor, no midwife—just a determined witch and a host of candles in various colors to call in good health and good fortune.
The house had done its best to keep the lights soft and low, but every moan out of Regina’s mouth was echoed with a flash of incandescent worry.
Only when Linda’s first cry tore through the air did the house finally gain control of the bulbs, turning them all the way down so mom and babe could sleep peacefully.
It wasn’t until well after Linda had come into the world that the house learned of the curse, when Regina explained to Linda why they stayed home, why so few people visited.
It didn’t fully understand how anyone could fall victim behind its walls, how Tillie had died under its watch.
Shouldn’t the house have been able to save them?
This time, though, the house understood. When Regina lit that black candle, the spell had taken over. It made the house drown Tillie. It pulled up the floorboard that pierced Violet’s heart. Over the past few days, it had watched Regina prepare the spell once more.
This was why it had drawn Linda upstairs—so she could stop her.
“What is it you want me to see?”
Linda’s eyes swept over the room, landing on her mother’s altar. She approached the table slowly. There she found a list of spell components written out, and at the top of the paper, her unborn daughter’s name.
“Mom’s protection spell,” Linda said.
The pipes groaned, as if to say, look closer.
As she took in her mother’s handwriting, Linda’s eyes narrowed. The string, the blanket her mother had made for Florence, an old doorknob, and one of Linda’s tubes of lipstick. Beside them, the tarot cards and candles.
Linda blinked rapidly as she put the pieces together.
“This isn’t a spell meant to protect us from the curse.” Horror tinged her voice. “Mother plans to cast a spell on me. On Florence.”
The house tipped Regina’s tarot deck from the shelf, ensuring a single card landed face up. The seven of swords.
Linda examined the illustration, then looked up at the shelf. “She’s stealing something?”
The lights glowed brighter, and Linda gasped.
“This is a siphoning spell,” she said as she turned back to the altar. “The temperance card. The magician. She’s upending the balance of magic among the spell’s subjects.”
She pressed a hand to the side of her face, where her witch’s mark was. It had appeared the night her aunt died; the house remembered it well. Regina had claimed it happened to some Caldwells. The last time the house had seen it had been the day Tillie died.
“It’s no witch’s mark at all,” Linda whispered, more to herself than the house. “It’s the mark of a witch who’s been siphoned.”
She picked up the list of ingredients. “An offering,” she murmured. “Last time she gave up Violet, didn’t she?”
The pipes moaned their sadness.
“And this time …” Linda trailed off. Then, she braced herself with a hand against her mother’s altar. “She plans to sacrifice my husband.”
Her voice was a mixture of sadness and rage, and the house wanted to cradle her and hold her close, but there wasn’t time.
Already, Regina was making her way back, and Linda was too lost in her thoughts to see her.
Honeysuckle House opened the window and slammed it shut so hard the glass rattled in the frame.
Linda jumped at the sudden noise. She looked up and out at her mother.
Regina saw her, too. She stopped, but only for a moment. Then, she broke into a run.
Linda turned back to her mother’s altar.
Below them, Regina ran toward the attic, the house creaking every board in warning. Linda crossed the room and stood at the top of the spiral staircase. She gripped the banister with both hands. The house warmed the wood beneath her touch. It was on her side.
The door opened in the room below, and Regina bounded in.
“Hello, Mother,” Linda said.
Regina’s head shot up. She started for the stairs, a little breathless.
When her foot landed on that first step, Linda said, “I wouldn’t if I were you.”
Regina paused. “I don’t know what you think you found up there, but my spell is the only thing that can break the curse.”
“You think I couldn’t piece together the purpose of your spell?” Linda held a hand over her belly. “Florence is my daughter. Mine.”
“And I’m trying to keep her safe,” Regina said. “That spell is our only chance. We don’t know who cursed us, so there’s no undoing it. We have to make our power stronger than the magic that caused this.”
Linda narrowed her eyes. “You mean your magic? The same magic that killed Aunt Violet and took Tillie Grey? Did you kill your parents, too?”
Red flooded Regina’s cheeks. “How dare you.” Her voice came out low and dark.
“Tell me I’m wrong,” Linda said.
The house, too, wished she was wrong, but it knew better.
“You think you’ve put it all together.” Regina took another step. “That I’ve been killing to grow my own power.” Another. “And what? If you push me down these stairs, it’ll all be over?”
“I’m warning you,” Linda said.
“If one of us doesn’t cast that spell, come midnight our magic will be gone forever,” Regina said.
“Taking my sister’s life was the last thing I wanted.
She’s why I did this in the first place.
When I realized I was losing my magic thirteen years ago, I couldn’t stand by and let it happen.
I didn’t know how to survive in this world without my spells.
And by then, I had you to care for. I had to make a choice. I had to siphon your power.”
“I won’t let you do this,” Linda said, as Regina reached the top of the steps. She grabbed Linda’s arms and pushed her back, but the house steadied her.
“You don’t have a choice.”
Regina threw her weight against Linda, forcing her back. The house helped Linda regain her footing to keep her mother from pushing past her. As the two of them struggled there at the top of the steps, Linda gripped her belly and cried out, bracing herself with one hand against the wall.
The lights flashed their worry. The baby was coming.
Regina slid around Linda and ran for the candles. Linda tried to follow after her, but another contraction wracked her. Regina’s hand hung poised over the black candle. The house shuffled the floorboards, but it wasn’t enough.
Regina struck the match.
“No!” Linda shouted. The house shifted the floor beneath her, propelling Linda forward, and she collided with her mother. The match slipped from Regina’s fingers and landed on the rug. The house quickly rolled up the corner to put out the flame.
Linda grabbed her mother by her thin frame, turning so her back was toward the room. She forced Regina away from the spell circle and her candles toward the staircase until the back of Regina’s foot hung off the step.
Regina grabbed Linda, trying not to fall.
“You won’t take Robert from me.” The quiet rage in Linda’s voice gave the house pause. “And you won’t take my magic, either.”
With that, she grabbed her mother’s hands where she clung to Linda’s arms, and she pried them free. Regina’s eyes widened with fear. Then, Linda pushed her, hard. So hard Regina hit the back banister and fell over the edge, landing on the ground below with a heavy crack.
The pipes rattled in response. The house knew this was the only way. Regina would simply continue to cast the spell every thirteen years, taking the people the house loved most, until she, too died. Still, the house couldn’t bear to watch her fall.
Linda turned back toward the altar, when something wet spilled down her legs and pooled on the floor. Linda stumbled, but the house moved one wall inward, just enough to catch her.
“Thank you,” she said. The lights glowed brighter. Linda closed the gap between herself and her mother’s altar as she let out a groan. She looked over the journal one last time before she picked up a match.
At first the house didn’t understand. It showed Linda the truth, the cost of the spell. It flickered the lights, trying to warn her.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m going to keep this family together.”
The house shook the floorboards and the walls, but still, Linda struck the match. It flung the window open, blowing out the flame.
“I have to do this.” Desperation laced her voice.
She turned away from the window and lit another, cupping her hand around the tip as she brought the candle to meet it.
At first, the wick wouldn’t light, and if homes could breathe, Honeysuckle House would’ve sighed with relief. But then, the candle burned.
“I offer my mother.”
Linda used the candle to light the brown taper beside it.
As she stared into the flames, there came a dragging sound from the steps.
The house had been so focused on Linda, it had turned its attention away from Regina, not realizing she still lived.
Now, the older woman pulled herself up the stairs.
Blood stained the back of her head, and her leg was bent at an angle, but still she climbed.
The house tried to stop her. It tried to stop Linda. But the moment Linda lit the black candle, the house had lost control of itself.
Linda grabbed the tarot cards and put the edge of each into the flame. They caught fire instantly. She held them for a few moments before she dropped them into a cast iron bowl and watched them burn. As they did, fire engulfed the black candle. It burned fast and strong, and then, it went out.
Three of the steps fell from the spiral staircase, right where Regina was standing. Though the house tried to catch her, it was powerless to do so. The moment she hit the ground, the house regained itself. But it was too late. Her neck was broken.
The spell was complete.