Chapter 25
Twenty-Five
The Victorian was ablaze with light when they pulled up in front of it.
At first, Erielle thought it was the way the sunlight was hitting the windows after the storm had passed, but no.
As she got out of the truck, heart thudding, she saw that every light in the house was on.
She looked back at Sam, who shrugged, but she could see his knuckles whiten on the steering wheel as he looked up at the house.
“I’ll go,” she said quickly.
“No. You said you don’t know exactly where they are, that it could be any of the pictures.”
“It’s only five places. I’ll be fine.”
But he was out of the truck already, closing the door a little more firmly than necessary. She noticed, as he rounded the front of the vehicle, he fingered the front pocket of his jeans, the protective pouch his mom had given him. Then he tugged it free and held it out to her, on his open palm.
She took his hand, stepped closer and folded his fingers around his offering, smiling up at him. “Thank you, but I’m okay. Gigi will watch over me. You keep it.” She stretched up on her toes to kiss his lips softly—oh, she liked the ease of doing that, something she’d craved for so long.
Millicent, apparently, did not. The front door slammed repeatedly, and from inside the house, she could hear a cacophony of other doors opening and closing.
“She’s learned a new trick,” Sam murmured, keeping Erielle’s hand in his as they marched up to the house, the sachet of herbs between them. “You think she knows we’ve figured out where the book is?”
“I don’t know,” Erielle said. She suspected that Millicent sensed the change in their relationship and did not approve.
She thought they might have trouble opening the door, but Sam caught it on one of its inward swings and pushed open. Maybe Millicent couldn’t slam all the doors and hold one closed at the same time.
Once they were inside, Sam turned to her. “Where do you want to start?”
“The workroom. There are four in there.”
She pivoted toward the library. The heavy oak door to the library slammed shut, and didn’t open again.
Erielle jumped back, but she was not going to let this ghost chase her away.
She gripped the handle and twisted, pushing hard at the same time, and was relieved to find she could open it.
Sam squeezed through behind her and they hurried toward the passageway.
“Wait.” Sam stopped, looked around the room. “I don’t want to be trapped in there. We don’t know where the switch to open it from that side is.”
She understood now. He wanted to block the shelf from sliding shut. She joined him in the search, but they’d removed all the books, finally.
“The desk,” she said. “She shouldn’t be able to move that.”
In fact, the two of them barely could. But they managed to wedge it in the opening and climbed over it, into the hallway.
The workroom was surprisingly quiet, the banging of the doors muffled. But once again, the lightbulb popped off. This time, Sam was prepared. He flicked on a small flashlight and shone it on the pictures hanging on the wall.
“So you think it’s behind one of these?”
“I think my grandmother hid it behind the paintings so her…group—” She couldn’t say coven, not in relation to her grandmother. “Would find it. She left it as a clue.”
“But they didn’t find it.”
Erielle shook her head. “This thought just popped in my head. I don’t know if I’m right. But it just makes sense to me.”
Sam reached for the top left painting and flipped it over. Not even any paper on the back, like the first painting had had. Erielle frowned, and removed the bottom right painting. Same as Sam’s. No backing. None of them had anything hidden on the back. Maybe she was wrong.
But Sam didn’t let her despair. He helped her climb over the desk and back into the light of the library, only to hesitate at the bottom of the stairs.
“Maybe we should go back in and make another of these,” he said, dangling the bag from his fingers.
“I don’t know how. Do you?”
“No. I watched her, but I don’t know what she used, or how much.”
“You stay here. I’ll go,” she offered again, really hoping he wouldn’t take her up on it, because man, was Millicent having a tantrum.
“No,” he replied, and took her hand to march up the stairs.
The painting in the bedroom nearest the attic had a paper backing, but when Erielle ripped it open, nothing was there. Same with the one in her grandparents’ room, and the room that had been her aunt’s.
“One last chance,” Erielle said, standing at the door to her room.
This time she didn’t bother taking off her shoes before she stepped onto the air mattress.
She wobbled a bit at the unevenness of the surface, but managed to grab the painting.
Sam reached across to take it from her so she could get off the mattress unencumbered, and he carried it over to the dresser.
“You do the honors,” he said.
When she gripped the brown paper backing, all the door banging stopped.
The bell over the door of the cafe clanged tonelessly as Erielle shoved the door open, red book gripped against her chest.
Behind the pass-through bar, Hattie rose on her toes to peer out. Her eyes flicked from Sam to the book in Erielle’s arms, and a clatter followed before she pushed through the swinging door from the kitchen.
“You found it,” she said, her tone oddly flat.
“Behind the painting in my bedroom,” Erielle said, and glanced around the empty place before she set the book down on the counter.
Her fingers trembled as she opened it to see what she now recognized as her grandmother’s handwriting.
This time, however, she could read what was written.
“Millicent was not happy. She was throwing a royal tantrum when we got to the house.”
“What do you mean?” Hattie asked.
“Opening and closing doors, every light in the house on. She got quiet when we found it, though.”
“Very strange,” Hattie murmured, touching the edge of the book.
“Do you have the journal? Can we translate it?”
Hattie snapped her head around to look at Erielle. “I don’t have the journal. I left it in the house. On the table.” Her voice softened at the end, trailing off, like she was remembering something.
Erielle was already shaking her head. “It’s not there. We looked.” She motioned between her and Sam. “We thought maybe you took it to try to translate it.”
“I…didn’t.” Hattie glanced across the street. “Maybe Allison did?”
Erielle followed her gaze. She doubted it. Allison was too cautious to take something without asking.
“I’ll go check,” Sam said, and loped across the street to the shop, which didn’t appear to be open yet. Of course it wasn’t. It wasn’t even nine in the morning. Erielle watched Sam knock on the glass door and wait, his energy visible from here.
“Vibe’s different, there,” Hattie said.
Erielle didn’t want to announce the change in their relationship to the world. She’d barely had time to acknowledge it herself. “Yes,” was all she said, and hoped that Hattie respected the answer.
Of course, of anyone Erielle knew, Hattie would understand playing her cards close to the vest.
Erielle watched as Sam waited, practically bouncing on his toes, boyish and restless, spearing his fingers through his hair as he peered into the shop. A little hum went through Erielle as she watched. Yes, the vibes were different, but what did that mean? They hadn’t had a chance to talk about it.
Finally, Allison appeared, and hesitated a minute before she unlocked the door. Sam gestured toward the cafe, and Erielle raised her hand in a wave, though she was pretty sure Allison couldn’t see. Allison finally opened the door, slipped out and closed it behind her to walk over with Sam.
“I don’t have it,” Allison said, her voice high, like she’d been accused.
Hattie pressed her lips together. “I’m pretty sure Marie doesn’t have it. Call her and ask.”
Erielle was about to protest that she didn’t have Marie’s number when Allison pulled her phone out of the folds of her skirt and tapped the screen quickly in a text.
“Curiouser and curiouser,” Erielle murmured, and turned her attention back to the book, the pages brittle beneath her touch.
She’d thought, after staring at these symbols for days, that she could recall them from memory. But there were too many variations, too many that blurred together. She skimmed her grandmother’s notes, herbs and incantations spilling across the margins, wondering which spells had ever truly worked.
“You found it,” Allison said, her voice reverent.
“Since everyone’s here, sit down, I’ll make y’all some breakfast,” Hattie said, retreating to the kitchen. “I bet no one’s eaten.”
Erielle didn’t think she could eat. “Want some help?”
Hattie leveled a look at her. “I do not. Go sit.” To Allison, she said, “Let me know if you hear from Marie.”
Erielle picked up the book to carry it over to the booth, and when she did, a page fell out and drifted to the floor. She crouched to catch it, flipped it over.
And stared.
“Sam.” She turned the paper toward him, heart hammering. “Look at this picture. He looks just like you.”