House of Ivy & Sorrow

TWENTY





It takes every ounce of willpower I have to leave Winn tonight, but there is so much magic to prepare if I want to protect my friends, and “Nana expecting me home for dinner” is the easiest excuse I have. He hugs me after Kat gets out of the car. “Why do you always have to go?”

That frown of his is so not fair. He looks like a puppy locked up in the pound, begging me to take him home. “Seriously, Winn, it’s in our best interest to keep Nana happy. What if I got grounded?”

He sighs. “That would suck.”

“It would.” I lean into him, soaking in the sensation before I have to get back to more witch stuff. “But we’re still going on a real date, right?”

He hugs me tighter. “Right. And this time there will be no stalkers-turned-fathers or sicknesses to get in the way. You’re mine for a whole night.”

My face warms. “Well, not a whole night. That would definitely get me grounded, even if we spent the entire time playing Trivial Pursuit with your parents.”

“Yeah, uh, that is not even close to what we’ll be doing.”

I pull back to see him better. “Wait, you already have it planned?”

“Of course.” Winn puts on his heart-melting smile. “Do you want a preview?”

The hairs on my neck prickle. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to know where this is going, especially when his face is so close to mine. “I like previews.”

“Good.” He leans in more, so close that I can feel his breath on my cheek. My heart pounds as I wait, and I hope kissing will be as awesome as people claim. At the last moment, Winn pulls back and holds up a piece of paper. “Because I’m really excited about this coupon—two for one at the diner!”

I grab the coupon and hit him with it, even though we’re both laughing. “You jerk!”

“Hey!” He scoops me up so we’re right against each other, and suddenly it’s quiet again. “I just don’t want you to feel pressured. Of course I want to kiss you, but that’s not the only reason you’re my girlfriend.”

I suck in a breath. It’s the first time he’s said “girlfriend,” and it feels incredible. “You know you said the G word, right? Are you sure?”

He nods, but the tiniest flicker of doubt shadows his eyes. “Unless you don’t want to be.”

“Winn.” My cheeks hurt from smiling so much, but I can’t seem to help it. “Of course I do! I’ve been dying to call you my boyfriend.”

He’s going to kiss me. I can feel it in the air, in the way he looks at me, in the way my heart beats at my rib cage. He leans in again, and as I begin to close my eyes there’s a loud knocking on the window. We jump apart, and I whirl around, finding a disturbingly happy face. Maggie.

I let out an irritated sigh. “Guess that’s my cue.”

“Who’s that?” Winn asks as I grab my bag.

“My cousin. Her school gets out a little earlier, and she’s visiting for the summer.” I open the door. “Maggie, this is Winn.”

She swoons over him. “My, oh, my. You done good, Jojo. You done good.”

Winn gives me this look like he’s not sure if she’s for real, and I cringe because she totally is. “See you tomorrow,” I say.

“I’ll call you later.” He reluctantly lets go of my hand, and I force myself to get out and walk up the path with Maggie, who keeps looking back at him.

“He’s the most beautiful boy I’ve ever seen,” she says when we get inside.

I slide down the front door, wishing I’d had a few more minutes with him. “I know.”

Kat appears from the living room. “Are you done sucking face?”

“We didn’—”

That’s when my dad decides to come down the stairs. We stand there, silent, and he stares at us. “Were you talking about me?”

“Nope,” I say, and all three of us burst out laughing.

He raises an eyebrow, clearly unsure of how to deal with a gaggle of teen girls. “Okay . . . well, Dorothea put me in charge of dinner, so you’re warned. I’ll have something barely edible for you in about half an hour.”

I pull myself up from the ground. “Sounds good. We’re going up to the histories, since I can finally talk again. Whatever you do, don’t come find us when the food is ready.”

“Why?”

I look up at the stairs, which from this angle seem to lead to mystery. “Trust me: you don’t want to know.”

Kat and Maggie follow me to the iron, spiral staircase that leads to the tower’s third story. The railing is cold on my hand and slightly rough. At each step, the air gets thicker; the heat seems to pool up here as if it’s attracted to the concentration of magic. It tastes earthy and powerful on my tongue.


We stand in front of the door, which is gilded in spells. Gold-dust filigree—studded with bone carvings and preserved forget-me-nots—dedicate this place to the lives of the past and remind us that the information we’ve gathered must not be lost. In the center of the door hangs a heavy braid laced with shiny beads—a braid containing every Hemlock witch’s hair since we began.

I remember the day Nana pulled me up the stairs to add my mother’s. We were still in mourning, and I sobbed as I watched my grandmother lace sapphire beads onto my mother’s black lock. She weaved it into the other strands, sealed it all with the purest olive oil, and then rebraided the whole thing, officially adding Mom to the long list of the dead.

I put my hand to a sapphire bead. I haven’t been up here often since that day—only when Nana makes me try to open Mom’s history or to write in my own. I should probably read the histories more, but I trust Nana to tell me what is necessary. Besides, no one could possibly get through them all.

“Kat, when we get inside, don’t touch anything,” I say.

“Seriously,” Maggie whispers. “Nothing. It’s too dangerous.”

Kat nods, her gulp audible in the ancient silence.

I put my hand to the brass knob, and the spell calls for me to undo it. I push the required magic into the metal.

Click.