House of Ivy & Sorrow

TWENTY-SIX





I force myself not to panic, but I can’t stop wondering about how on earth the Carters ended up in Fanny’s house. Agatha did write that Fanny’s house was bound to a family. Maybe it was Winn’s.

But as I take in the spells, it seems impossible that any witch—let alone a normal human—could find this house and bind to it with such powerful barriers surrounding it. They are overwhelmingly strong, more so than any on our house. My head spins as it tries to decipher all the magic in the air.

“Jo?” Winn says.

I jump. “Huh?”

He seems really worried, like he thinks I might run and never come back. “Are you okay? You kind of spaced out a little.”

“Oh, I’m fine. I just . . . didn’t realize your house would be so beautiful inside.” It’s the truth. The simple beauty of the outside follows you in. White walls with striking, colorful art mirror the stained-glass windows. The soft navy blue area rugs mimic the shutters. The lush greens and browns bring the trees inside.

It’s magical.

“I’ve always liked it.” He tugs my hand, and I take a few steps forward only to stop again. A stunning array of old ceramic tiles covers the hall wall, carefully arranged so that it looks like a night sky with hundreds of colorful stars.

“That’s amazing.” I step closer. The pieces certainly don’t belong to one another, but are chips from something else. “Who made this?”

He shrugs. “It’s always been there. A lot of things have always been here. They’re so beautiful that there’s no reason to change them.”

I touch the tiles, imagining Fanny herself putting them up. My fingers turn hot and then numb, and my wonderings are proved right. This is one massive spell—a spell of hiding, like a star among many. This is why Nana and I haven’t found this place right under our noses. I can’t make out all the complexities, but it seems like only those bound to the house can bring people in. So there’s no way someone could have murdered Fanny unless . . .

Did Winn’s ancestors do it? Maybe she let them in to give them a spell, and they attacked her. But surely she would have defended herself.

“Winn?” His mother’s voice echoes down the hall. “Is that you?”

“Yeah.” He squeezes my hand once. “Don’t be nervous. She’ll love you.”

I am nervous, but not for the reasons he thinks. “I hate your confidence—makes it so much easier to disappoint.”

He shakes his head. “C’mon.”

We pass by the spiral staircase and through a swinging door, which opens to a rustic kitchen, the old woodstove still in place. To our right is the living room, where a TV gives off the only light to see his parents by.

They look normal and non-magical, hanging out on the couch after a long week. Mr. Carter is a total farmer, hard work written in every line on his face. Winn’s mother’s grin is warm, and her hair matches Winn’s sandy color exactly. I try and try to see if I’m missing something, but there’s not a speck of magic in them that I can find. It doesn’t make sense, but I’ll take it. That is much better than discovering a witch or whatever Levi is in the house.

“Well, aren’t you pretty as ever, Josephine,” Winn’s mother says with her soft southern accent. I’m not sure which part of the South she’s from, but she and Mr. Carter went to school in South Carolina and that’s how Mrs. Carter ended up all the way out here in Willow’s End.

“Thank you,” I say. “Your house is gorgeous. I’m still trying to take it all in.”

She smiles wider. “It wasn’t until I saw the house that I said I’d marry Jim.”

“That’s the only way any of us Carters manage to tie the knot,” his dad says.

I laugh, but then stop short because I’m not sure if I’m supposed to.

“You’ll hear that joke at least twenty more times.” Winn pulls me to the couch. I try not to look as awkward as I feel, sitting so close to him when they’re staring. Not that they seem upset, but it’s weird.

His dad takes a swig from a glass bottle. “It’s the truth. The Carters have only had boys for generations—my grandpa used to joke about us ugly mutts needing a nice house to convince any woman to live in Willow’s End for the rest of her life.”

As much as I don’t want to, I have to ask. “Generations, huh? How long have the Carters been here anyway?”

“Oh, since around nineteen hundred,” Mrs. Carter says. “You should see the attic, honey. Someday we’ll get around to appraising all that stuff. We’d probably be rich.”

My heart skips a beat. It’s too close to when Fanny died. “Really?”

“We’re not selling anything,” Mr. Carter says. “But yes, my great-grandfather Phillip and his wife, Cordelia, moved here around the turn of the century. I remember my grandpa showing me their journals and letters when I was a kid—he loved exploring the attic.”

“Wow.” I don’t want to go on, but Nana would be pissed if I didn’t. “Do you know who lived here before that?”

His parents glance at each other. “No one did. My family built the house,” Mr. Carter says.

“I see.” I know he’s lying. Which means they have something to hide. I don’t want to think about what that might be.

“So, uh . . .” Winn clears his throat. “Are you guys going to bed soon?”

His mom laughs. “All right, all right, baby, you two be good. We’ll finish off this movie in our room.”


“The volume will be on low,” his dad adds.

Winn covers his face. “We really need a movie theater within reasonable driving distance.”

I offer a laugh, though it sounds halfhearted. When his parents leave, Winn gets up to put in a different movie. “What do you want to watch?”

I shrug. “I like anything. You pick.”

He gives me this look, as if he knows something happened within the last few minutes but isn’t sure what. “Okay, if you say so.”

I watch him, wishing I’d never come here. I want to go back to not knowing that, even though it should be impossible, Winn lives in a witch’s house. A witch who was probably murdered. But it feels like I’m falling into darkness deeper than anything I’ve ever felt. I don’t want to accept the most logical explanation: Winn’s family is somehow like Levi.

Is that why my magic reacted so strongly when we kissed?

Is Winn after it as well?

My stomach turns as I worry about whether or not Winn can sense my powers. I hate that Levi’s claim about people lying has gotten to me. The way Levi looked at him when we first met screamed of recognition. Levi probably knows how Winn plays into this, and he’s somewhere smiling that evil smile, thinking about how devastated I’ll be when I find out.

I am devastated.

Winn sits next to me again, pulling me close. I hate how quickly his touch has turned from comfort into fear. Maybe he’s like Levi—maybe he’s not the kind who Curses immediately, but instead waits for the right time to ask for what’s not his. Maybe he’s waiting until I’m so in love with him that I’d do anything to keep him.

I should leave.

I don’t want to leave.

“You’re so quiet,” he whispers.

I blink, realizing that the movie has been going at least fifteen minutes. It’s a comedy, and I haven’t laughed once. “I . . . sorry, I was falling asleep.” I lean into him more, his scent enveloping me as I fight back tears. I have to be wrong. Please, please be wrong. “You’re just so comfortable.”

He kisses the top of my head. “There you go, calling me fat again.”

My laugh sounds more like a mouse being squashed, but I cover it up by burrowing my head into his chest. He seems happy with that, and I wish I didn’t want to be this close to him. Why can’t I get myself to leave?

“So much for our bad luck on dates,” he says.

One tear escapes, and I hope he doesn’t feel it wet his shirt.