Chapter 3
three
LIZZY
If I thought Madame Bespectacled and Be-scarved was a weirdo before, the detonation of the witch-bomb is hardly normalizing the situation.
Witches? Are you kidding me?
My sisters and I settle in around the table, shooting each other wide-eyed, fish-gaping looks.
It’s likely the first time in history the Sisters Bonnivarde are all on the same page.
That page being from the book, What The Fuck Is Happening, Chapter One: You Picked A Fine Time To Forget The Drugs, Dipshit.
Once again it’s Kate who recovers the power of speech first. In the soft, calming voice she’s honed from years of refereeing fights between me and Rachel, she says, “This is… well… It’s a lot to process, Helena. Let’s just hit the rewind button, take a few deep breaths, and—”
“Deep breaths? Deep breaths?” Rachel breaks into an unhinged laugh. “This is ridiculous. All of you are missing the point.”
“What point would that be, Rach?” I blink at her and grin. Innocent, yet antagonizing—my special sauce.
“That outside a freaking Disney movie, a sentient, food-serving dining room doesn’t exist! A house simply can’t do this! There must be a rational—”
The lights go out.
Someone emits a little squeak. Someone also emits a little pee. We won’t embarrass that someone by naming names, but their initials are M.E.
“Well, I believe you,” I say out loud. Call me old-fashioned, but it seems to me that if a house can prepare a feast, randomly open doors, and mess with the lights, it can also drop a wall on your face or shove you down the stairs when no one’s looking. Best to get on its good side.
“The house,” Helena says, “along with everything in it, is tied to your ancestral magic.”
The light returns. A very hallelujah moment all around.
“Ancestral magic,” Rachel repeats with a skeptical huff. “As if that explains anything.”
“Can’t you feel it, girls?” Helena asks.
I really don’t want to disappoint my new adoptive mother so early in the relationship, but the only thing I feel right now is a bit moist in the nether regions, and not in the fun way.
Also, I despise the words moist and nether regions, especially when used in the same sentence, which just goes to show you my current state of mind, and further proves how inadvisable it is to attend Bonnivarde family gatherings without copious amounts of mind-altering substances.
But… wait. Maybe there’s… something? Yes! There it is again. That warm-bath sensation I felt when I first arrived. A tingling, of sorts. Not in the nether regions, unfortunately, but between my shoulder blades.
Is that what she’s talking about?
I close my eyes and focus on it. Everything around me fades to a dull hum as a scattering of bright, pretty sparkles appears in my mind, like lavender-colored lightning bugs. The more I relax, the deeper the feeling draws me in, warming me until—
“Enough.” Rachel shoves her chair out, shattering my magical fucking moment. “We have more important things to deal with right now. Reality-based things. We certainly don’t need some swindler coming in here and—”
“What my sister is trying to say,” Kate says, casting a pleading glare at Rachel, “is that we’ve just come back to Graves Hollow after two decades away. It’s a major adjustment. Our mother has only been dead a day, and—”
“Your mother has been dead over a week,” says Helena. “Ten days, to be exact. We have only until the next new moon to—”
“Ten days?” Rachel shakes her head. “That can’t be right. The lawyer said—”
“Lawyer?” Helena’s face goes ashen. “You’ve been in touch with a lawyer?”
“Nathan Killroy,” Rachel says, as if Helena should know the name. “Apparently my mother directed him to get in touch with me in the event of her death.”
“I see. And what else did this lawyer say?”
“That she passed from a heart attack while hiking in the woods. And that I should reach out to my sisters, and he or an associate would come by in a few days to walk us through the details of settling the estate.”
Helena’s fists are clenched so tightly, her silver bangles are vibrating. “Did he describe the contents of said estate?”
“The house, obviously. And the plant business. A good deal of antiques he suggested we have appraised. Oh, and some money in a savings account.” Rachel reclaims her seat and takes a steadying breath, coming back to her happy place—accounting, list-making, logic and reason.
“He mentioned something about a private auction, too—some kind of gala he said he’d fill me in on later.
Thought we might be able to sell some of the antiques and drum up interest for the property. That was it, basically.”
I’m about to ask how much money’s in that account, and how much interest we might be able to drum up, but Helena looks like she’s about to erupt.
“Mr. Killroy,” she seethes, “if that’s even his name, is most assuredly not a lawyer.
Your mother didn’t even have a will. She wanted you kept as far away from this as possible.
Her most sincere hope was that in the event of her death, her assets would go unnoticed by the state and simply rot away.
I’m breaking my promise to her by sharing all of this with you, but that’s because there’s a greater force at work here—one we must contend with.
The portal must be re-stabilized and protected, and as the sole heirs, you three are responsible for—”
“Portal?” I ask, at the same time Rachel goes, “I vetted him, though!”
And then my sister keeps going, because establishing her own faultlessness is clearly more important than anything to do with witchcraft and a fucking portal.
“I checked his credentials. He forwarded me the details from the medical report, and I contacted the medical examiner’s office to confirm it was legitimate—of course I did!
Everything was aboveboard. We wouldn’t even be here otherwise. We—”
“Wait. Helena knew we were coming,” I say, because apparently my synopses are firing again, which can only mean one thing: the alcohol is wearing off.
Shit. Dumping half a bottle of fresh wine into my glass, I continue. “Helena, when you first got here, you said it was good we’d all arrived. Like you’d been waiting for us.”
“I’ve been waiting since I escorted your mother’s soul beyond the veil!”
I open my mouth. Close it. Okay, then.
Putting a pin in that whackadoodlery, I press on. “How did you know we’d even show? We haven’t spoken to our mother or anyone else in Graves Hollow since we were kids. Who else would’ve told us she’d passed if not her estate lawyer?”
“I assumed you felt the calling. I can see now how wrong I was.” Helena’s brow furrows.
Whether she means it or not, I feel her judgment like a weight on my shoulders.
“You girls are completely disconnected from you magic. I tried to warn Evelyn about this. She didn’t want to hear it, and now it’s too late. ”
I let out a sigh. The house echoes me, groaning in a way I’m beginning to find more comforting than scary.
“I’m sorry, Helena,” Kate says. “You may have been close to my mother, but we weren’t. Like Lizzy said, none of us had any connection to this place. We’re totally in the dark here.”
“About everything,” Rachel adds, and then, in a move that has me questioning just how influential this magical house really is, grabs my and Kate’s hands and holds firm.
At the sight of our sudden show of solidarity, Helena regains some of her warmth.
With a kindly smile, she says, “No, it’s me who should be apologizing. Not for your loss—I have no right to say I’m sorry for that. Perhaps her death is a relief for you.”
If we’re supposed to deny it, none of us do.
“I am sorry, however, for the… well, confusion is the best word I’ve got right now. I’m sure this all feels a bit murky. If you’ll let me, I’ll do my best to guide you through the worst of it.”
“Worst?” I let go of Rachel’s hand and help myself to another scone, slathering it with lemon curd and cream. “It’s a little weird, sure. But I’m not seeing a downside here.”
“There are things you need to know,” she says. “Important, life-or-death things which will reveal their downsides soon enough. If we had more time, I would ease you into it. But we don’t.”
“Because of her,” Rachel practically hisses.
“Because our so-called mother abandoned us twenty-some years ago, despite knowing we’d have to deal with this...
this…” She waves her hand, vaguely encompassing the spread of food, the house, all of it.
“Yet she chose to ignore the festering issue. Just like she chose to ignore us.”
“It was a point of contention between us for decades,” Helena says.
“But I understood her fear. She didn’t trust her magic, didn’t want the legacy.
She thought that by shielding you from it, she could somehow spare you the fate she’d been trying to outrun for so long.
I know this might be hard to believe, but she genuinely wanted to keep you safe. ”
“Safe from so-called magic?” Rachel laughs again, but her earlier nervousness has hardened into something much more formidable.
“Helena, my sisters and I spent our childhood being shunted from one terrible place to another. Half the time we didn’t have enough food to eat, and a good day was one where they ignored us completely, because that was better than getting smacked around.
It was all I could do to make sure that Kate got her period supplies, that Lizzy learned how to read, that none of us ended up—” She cuts off abruptly, fury reddening her cheeks.
“And our so-called mother, living it up in her magical dream house, thought all that was the safer bet? That her disdain for this legacy was more important than her responsibilities to the children she chose to bring into this world?”