House of Ivy & Sorrow

FIFTEEN





With the mute thing I’m dealing with, going up to the attic to read histories would be suicide. Every witch in every family must keep a history, which is a fancy word for a diary. It’s important to know our past, but of course we don’t want other people knowing. This makes the histories a labyrinth of danger, frustration, and, admittedly, more than a giant’s share of teenage angst that spans centuries. Of all the places in our house, it’s the most protected with magic.

It’d be hard enough to watch Kat and disarm all the trap spells with a voice. The books will have to wait until I’m better, so I take Kat with me for another task: translating

“Come in!” my dad says before I knock on the door. He sure has the house’s creaks down.

“Hi, Mr. Johnson,” Kat says.

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, hello. I thought it would be Jo.”

“She’s here. But she can’t talk, since she used her voice to get rid of a spell on that letter you had.” Kat takes the desk chair while I stand by the bed, hesitating. “She’s about to sit next to you, if you couldn’t tell.”

“Okay.”

I sit with my notebook, scribble out a question, and hand it over to Kat. “She wants to know if you recognized the picture that the location was written on.”

“Oh, yeah.” He puts his hand to his mouth, the memories seeming to flash across his face. “That was the day I met Carmina, actually. My friends and I knew her roommates. She had just moved to the Bay Area, and we all went up to San Fran to show her the city. The second I saw her . . .” His smile has so much pain behind it, pain I’m very familiar with. “It was over.”

Maybe it’s good I can’t talk, because I’d sound all weepy. I write another question and Kat reads it. “Do you know who took the picture?”

“It had to be one of her roommates, because I recognize the setting, but me and my friends didn’t have a camera that day. They were taking pictures at some point, though. I remember her posing.” He sighs. “That was over twenty years ago. We were in college then, and she moved around a couple times before we lived together. . . .”

I tilt my head. They lived together? Wow. Nana was serious when she said my mom stayed with him as long as she could. “Her roommates were Eva, Taiko, and . . . Stacia.”

Last names? I write, and Kat repeats.

He laughs. “I remember Eva’s because it was Corona, and we’d tease her about it. Taiko’s was something long and Hawaiian. She was from Maui. And Stacia’s was Black—she and Carmina were really close.”

I jump at the name. Black. They’re the largest witching family around. Not that any of our families are super big, but they have cousins and that seems huge to me. I haven’t met any of them since I was a little girl, because Nana basically cut off all contact with other families once my mom was Cursed. But Mom loved to tell the story of how we once went to a big Halloween gala when I was four. Every other little girl was a Black. One of them, a snotty redhead with perfect ringlets, said, “Hemlock? I’ve never heard of that bloodline. Are you sure you’re a witch?”

I scowled at her. “Of course I am.”

“Prove it.”

“Fine.” I cut off one of her curls and turned it into a butterfly. She wasn’t very happy about that. Mom told me that we might be a small family, but our magic was still as strong as anyone else’s.

But maybe not all the Blacks were like that little redhead. Stacia Black could have been a lovely person. And it makes sense that Mom would bunk with at least one witch, especially if she was so far from home. If Stacia is a witch and knew Mom back then, then Stacia probably has information we’re missing, information Mom wouldn’t have told my dad.

“What, Jo?” Kat asks.

I grab the pen and paper. Black is a witch family name. Stacia could have been a witch, and maybe that could be a lead.

“Huh,” my dad says when Kat tells him. “I would have never guessed, but that’s the point, isn’t it? You blend right in.”

“No kidding,” Kat says. “I grew up with Jo, and I never had a clue. She was just fun, sweet, crazy Jo.”

I scrunch my face, embarrassed, but my dad smiles. “I bet. Sounds like—”

Boom.

The house rocks, every plank crying out its creaky song. Plaster rains from the ceiling, and a few pictures clatter to the floor. I put my hand over my heart, as if that will steady it, and wait for the world to stop swaying. The house hasn’t fallen yet, but there’s a first time for everything. Kat uncovers her head. “What the hell was that?”

Better find out, I write.

“We’re going to investigate.” Kat opens the door. “We’ll see you later, Mr. Johnson.”

He waves. “Hope to see you soon.”

When Kat and I get down to the kitchen, everything is out of order, but that’s not what has my mouth hanging open. Three women stand there, brushing themselves off as if they’ve come in from a rainstorm. They all have long golden hair, braided and looped intricately, and wardrobes that look either hippyish or medieval peasantish.

The Crafts. Nana must have asked them to come fast, because they usually use the front door.

Maggie turns, her big eyes lighting up. “Jojo!” she squeals as she careens into me. “This is all so crazy! I don’t know how in the world you deal with so much and you can still smile and everything!”

I forgot how fast and incoherent she gets when she’s nervous. Or excited. Or hopped up on caffeine. Last time she was here, she got ahold of one Dr Pepper and, wow. She ended up raiding our newt-tail supply and used it to toilet paper all of Main Street. Nana was not happy, but at least she had the foresight to get our house, too, so no one blamed us.

“What’s the bad news Nana Dottie is writing cryptic messages about?” Maggie continues. “Mom and Auntie keep giving each other weird looks. You know, the ones where they know more than you do but they don’t know if they should tell you?” She shoots them a glare. “I really hate when they do that.”

She’s never going to be quiet. It’s hard enough to stop her when I have a voice.

“It’s been so long since I’ve seen you and it’s so disgusting that you’re prettier than—”

Kat clears her throat, and finally Maggie notices her. “So you’re a witch, too, Maggie? I feel kind of stupid for missing that one.”

Maggie smiles. “Hey, Kat. Long time no see. Are you having fun learning about magic? I heard all about the binding.”

“It’s been interesting so far, and not that long since I’ve seen you. A year maybe?”

Since Maggie visits often, my friends know her. They think she’s my cousin, which is kind of true. Close as I’ll ever get.

Maggie points back to her family, who eye Kat warily. “This is my mom and auntie. Gran stayed behind to man the house and watch Molly, my baby sis, who is the cutest little girl ever. You should see—”

“Mags.” Her aunt steps forward, and immediately the air quiets from her authoritative presence. “We’re here to get information, not give it.” She appraises Kat in a way that makes me want to protect her. “So you are the one who received the binding?”

Kat tries to stand tall, but that’s not much when you’re five foot nothing. “Yes.”

“I’m Prudence.” She holds out her graceful hand, and Kat takes it. “You have a lot to learn.”

“I know.”

Prudence scowls. “Good. And this is my younger sister, Tessa.”

Tessa’s smile is warm, just like Maggie’s. “Welcome to our world, dear.”

“Thanks.” Kat nods in my direction. “Also, you might want to know Jo can’t talk right now.”

They all give me a surprised look, so I motion for them to follow me to Nana, who already has the picture rehung and waiting. She fills the Crafts in on the situation, and they stare at the image in horror. Even Maggie’s perma-smile has faded. “Are you certain you’ve never heard of such things?” Nana asks.

“Positive,” Tessa says. “That is . . .”

“An abomination,” Prudence says. “If a witch did this, she should be publicly punished.”

“While it makes sense that a witch would be behind this, we have no proof that one is. Carmina could have crossed paths with one of these evil men during her travels. I don’t know. I’m afraid we have nothing to go on, and I’m not sure it’s wise to alert any other families of our situation,” Nana says.

Tessa nods. “With the threat so close, how can you know which way to go?”

“You thought you were doing a good thing cleansing Josephine’s father,” Prudence adds. “And it almost cost you everything.”

Nana sits in her chair, looking lost. I walk over and hug her. Her brow furrows. “What is it, dear?”

Kat clears her throat. “We went and asked Joseph more questions. Turns out he knew where that picture came from. He said one of Carmina’s roommates probably took it—Stacia Black.”


Tessa and Prudence gasp at the name, clearly familiar with whoever Stacia is. Which makes sense, considering they were my mom’s closest friends.

Nana hugs me. “Of course! You darling girl.”

Tessa smiles. “Stacia was so kind—definitely not your average Black witch. She and Carmina became really close. If anyone else knows more about Carmina’s life, what might have happened, and who performed the Curse, it’d be her.”

Prudence folds her arms. “I haven’t seen her in years, though. I think Carmina mentioned a long time ago that Stacia was pregnant. Seems they lost touch after that—she wasn’t at the funeral.”

Kat, Maggie, and I lap up the information. This is all news to me. “If they were close, why wouldn’t Stacia go?” Maggie asks.

Tessa shrugs. “It’s easy to lose contact after you have a child—I remember how very protective I was of you, Maggie. I didn’t take you from the house for years—not until you were four or five.”

Nana nods. “If Stacia did have a daughter, she wouldn’t have risked taking her to the funeral of a witch who died from the Curse. We have to find her now. It might be a stretch to think she has any answers, but . . .”

“She’s your only hope,” Kat says, as if reading my mind.

Nana’s eyes are dark, so sad that they don’t reflect light. “Exactly.”