I knock on the door. When I don’t hear movement inside, I knock again, harder. I’ll stand here all day. I’ll make a scene if I have to. I have business with that old witch.
The door swings open, and I take a surprised step backward. Dr. Miller cranes her long neck toward me, her fluffy hair wild around her face. She’s wearing a pink bathrobe printed with multicolored hearts, each as big as my hand.
“Camila,” she says, way less surprised to see me than I am to see her. She points toward the sign in the front window: So Mote It Be, We’re Closed. “You’ll have to come back after school tomorrow.”
“I’m not here to shop,” I say. “I need to talk to Toby. Is she, uh, here, too?”
She gives me a pitying smile for even having to ask. Toby is here. They are here together. Dr. Miller and Toby live together. Huh.
“I don’t know that she’ll want to visit with you right now,” she says. She drops her voice down to a whisper. “I know it doesn’t look like it, but her feelings were truly hurt when you stole from the shop and did magic without her help. It will take a long time to build that trust back.”
“Xander Greenway is dead, Dr. Miller.” I cross my arms over my chest, but the bravado can’t carry me through. My sinuses burn and my voice cracks as the reality of it settles over me. “He killed June and Dayton, and last night he died trying to kill me and Aniyah Dorsey. And it’s the last day of the resurrection spell, so I’d like to get some stuff cleared up before I go see my friends for the last time.”
A hand flies to her chest, pressing down the lapels of her robe. Her mouth flops open like a fish struggling to breathe out of water. She looks at the sleeve of my jacket where Xander’s bloodstains look like splattered paint. There are footsteps behind her, and I see Toby appearing at the base of the stairs that are usually roped off.
“Cora? What’s going on? What’s the—” Toby stops talking as she sees me. Her forehead creases. “Mila, we’re closed.”
Dr. Miller steps aside, swinging her head back and forth in disbelief. “No, she needs to talk to us. There’s a lot we don’t know. Come in, Camila. Please.”
Toby’s chin tucks back into her neck in confusion as I step over the threshold. Unlike her usual gauzy and revealing outfits, she’s wearing red flannel pajamas that cover all her tattoos. It might be the first time I haven’t been able to see her cleavage. “What are we supposed to do? Play wise old crones and have tea?”
“Another child is dead,” Dr. Miller hisses. “So, yes, go put the kettle on.”
Toby’s frown deepens, but she turns on her heel and leads the way through the store and behind the register where their home starts. The living room is an explosion of sky blue wallpaper covered in cherubs and giant velvet couches that could easily seat their entire coven. We turn into a very narrow kitchen, dominated by a giant carved wheel of the year on the wall where other people would have a clock. Toby goes to an electric tea kettle while Dr. Miller urges me forward toward a set of French doors.
Instead of going outside, we step onto a closed-in porch that runs along the entire back of the house. Bundles of drying herbs hang against the windows, probably plucked from the garden on the other side of the glass. The morning sunlight is misty here. I wonder if Dr. Miller brought me to this room because the smell of drying lavender is so strong. Lavender is good for healing.
Dr. Miller takes a seat on one of many rattan furniture monstrosities, none of which look particularly strong. I choose a loveseat with sun-bleached cushions and keep my attention on the garden outside, naming plants in my head until Toby comes in and grumpily plants a tea tray on a wicker side table.
Dr. Miller reaches for the bright turquoise teapot and pours steaming liquid into the three matching cups. She passes me a cup. The tea isn’t dark enough to be real black tea, but it’s also too pale to be chamomile. I take a sniff.
“It isn’t acorns, is it?” I ask, thinking of the potion we forced on Caleb.
“Do you need assistance in telling the truth?” Toby asks, her voice edged in a growl.
“It’s Tension Tamer,” Dr. Miller says lightly. “I have a weakness for store-bought teas. Toby thinks it’s a waste of money since the shop sells herb blends.” She holds her cup in both hands and draws it close to her chest. She remembers to put on her counselor half smile. “What happened, Camila?”
“Why don’t you start with your decision to steal from my store,” Toby says, leaning back in her seat. “And then continue with doing magic that is a violence to the Goddess—”
“Toby,” Dr. Miller says with more sharpness than I would have guessed she was capable of. “That’s not helping.”
I hold my tea under my nose, watching the swirls of steam writhe and undulate upward. It’s like a ghost of the smoke that still paints the inside of my nose and mouth, the slimy brown smoke of old wood burning down around me.
So, I tell the story, the whole thing. Starting with Riley’s accidental death and the grimoire showing up at Yarrow House all the way through to limping into bed this morning with Xander’s blood still on my skin. Dr. Miller only stops me a couple of times to ask for clarification. Toby doesn’t say anything at all, but her tea sits untouched on the table.
“Tonight the girls are going to go back to the graveyard,” I conclude. “And I want your coven to be there.”
“We won’t help you keep them around,” Toby says, her brows drawing together. “They might be your friends, but that doesn’t change how they got here.”
“I don’t want you to help them stay,” I say. I wish I could make them stay. I wish I could give them their lives back, but they don’t belong here anymore. Their visit is almost over. “I want you to watch them leave so you’ll believe that they’re gone. And if anything goes wrong, you can help me make it right. There was no spell in the grimoire for putting them back.”
“It’s very mature of you to ask for supervision,” Dr. Miller says.
I bristle at the idea but take a sip of my tea to hide it. “I did what I had to do for Riley. And June and Dayton. I’m not going to apologize for it, but I want to make things right. The iron rose hematite should come back after the girls go. It’s in Riley’s grave right now. I can cleanse it and give it back to the shop. Or I can work it off, I guess. It’s not like I’ll have anything else to do.” I offer a weak smile and a shrug. “All my friends are dead.”
Toby examines me. I know she’s an old lady in flannel jammies, but the intensity of her gaze is still vaguely terrifying, like she can see secrets oozing out of my skin. But I don’t have secrets from her right now. Right now, she and Dr. Miller know more about me than my own parents.
“How are we supposed to trust you again, Mila?” Toby asks. It isn’t accusing or angry. She honestly doesn’t seem to have the answer. And I get it. Because I also don’t know how I’m going to come back from raising the dead and leaving a murderer to die. I can’t picture tomorrow at all.
“The same way I’ll learn to not be scared you’re gonna pull a shotgun on me again,” I say. “I’m going to give you a chance to make good. And I think I deserve a chance, too.”
TWENTY-FOUR
WITH A HANDFUL of movies and a bag from the drugstore, I drive to Caleb’s. When the front door opens, I’m greeted by Dayton blowing a party noisemaker. The long green tube of paper unravels toward my face with a honk.
“You’re here!” she cheers, the noisemaker clenched between her teeth. She has a hard time smiling and talking and keeping it in her mouth all at the same time. “We didn’t want to wake you up too early since you had, you know, a hard night. But it’s our last day, and Caleb got us a bunch of treats!”