House of Ivy & Sorrow

THIRTY-SIX





Stacia grabs the Levi Guy, who I guess is Jeff, before he says even one word to Mom. She’s already so engrossed with Dad that she’s not paying attention. Everyone else goes slightly hazy, as if her memory only sees my father, but I can tell Jeff is looking at my mother. Stacia whispers something to him. He may not be drenched in shadows and evil, but his glare makes me tremble the same way the Curse did when I cleansed Dad. In my gut, I know Jeff is the guy who killed my mom, the guy who killed Stacia. And I would bet a thousand dollars that he is Levi’s dad.

Stacia and Jeff whispering is all I get before Mom and Dad walk ahead of them into the restaurant. And then we’re back to a making-out memory, which is even more motivation for me to run downstairs to find my father. The moment I’m not alone, the pendant turns off. Dad has commandeered the dusty study for his office, and there he is, talking to someone on speakerphone. He holds up a hand to stop me, clearly in the middle of work.

I turn around and head for the living room, plopping down next to Maggie.

“Jo, you will not believe what Autumn did. She was totally flirting with this cute guy at a beach party and she’s all making fun of Callie, and then the boy is Callie’s older brother and Autumn gives him this blank look like, ‘Oh, crud, there goes my chance.’” She laughs. “It was awesome.”

I can’t help but grin. Maggie must be relaxed if she’s finally blabbering away like her normal self. “Has she learned The Very Important Lesson yet?”

“After the commercial, I bet.” She stuffs a wad of Cheetos in her mouth. The Crafts are big on all-natural food, so whenever Maggie visits she spends the whole time gorging on processed goods. “Now, are you going to tell me what’s going on? Because you seem different today—don’t think I can’t tell.”

I put my hand to the pendant. “I think I know who killed my mother.”

She coughs on her mouthful, and I hand her the liter of orange Fanta on the coffee table. She takes a few sips and then stares at me with her big, bright eyes. “What?”

“I saw him in—”

“Did you need something, Jo?” My dad stands in the study’s doorway.

“You had a roommate named Jeff, right?”

He raises his eyebrows. “How’d you know that?”

“What was he like? Did he seem interested in Mom?” My heart pounds in anticipation of his answers, even if I already know partially who he is. This is Mom’s killer we’re talking about, and I have a first-person source right here, one Jeff probably planned on getting rid of once he served his purpose.

Dad scratches his head. “Jeff Anderson? He was an average guy, kind of quiet, kept to himself. If he was interested in Carmina, he never said anything. Actually, he and Stacia were dating when we moved in together. We kind of lost touch with them after that, since we relocated closer to San Jose for my job.”

“I knew it.” Jeff probably Cursed Stacia first. Then he went for my mom once Stacia was dead. Why he’d use a Black, I’m not sure. But that must be how Levi came into being, and I’m pretty sure he’s the only one who knows the rest of this story.

“Knew what?” Dad asks.

“Jeff? He looks exactly like Levi, who is Stacia’s son. Stacia was killed by the Curse, too, so . . .”

Dad’s eyes widen. “You think he . . . ?”

I nod.

“But he was a totally normal guy!” Dad leans on the doorjamb. “I lived with him for months, and he never did anything bad. He didn’t seem like a killer.”

I give him a flat look. “How long did you live with Mom without knowing she was a witch?”

He deflates. “I never had a chance, did I? There was no way I could have protected her.”

I stand, never more determined to end this. “Nope. Honestly, you’re helpless, just like Kat and Gwen and everyone else. That’s why Mom protected you, not the other way around. And you have to be okay with that, because that will never change.”


His jaw slackens, but I keep talking. “That’s why I have to know everything that happens here. I am the protector—I’m the only one who can keep us safe right now. If I’m missing information, I could fail. And that means we’re dead. That’s why I’m mad. I’m tired of everyone thinking I’m the one who needs protecting. I am protecting you, and that’ll be even more true if Nana dies. So don’t ever forget it.”

I rush for the stairs, the power of knowledge pulsing through my veins. I can’t wait to tell Nana. She won’t give up if she knows how close we are. We have a name for the first time in a decade. We know what he is, what the Curse does—hell, we even know who he works for. That only leaves one thing: how to kill him.

When I push through her door, a little of my fire extinguishes. Nana’s brittle hand hangs past the bed, her wrist dripping black blood into a basin. Her face is pale, and I know too well how close she is to death.

“Oh, Nana . . .”

She startles, her other hand going to her chest. “Josephine, there you are.”

I let out a long sigh, forcing myself to the basin. It’s practically full, so I take a cloth from her nightstand and cover her wrist. “That’s enough for today.”

“It eases the pressure,” she says. “I hated when Carmina would ask me to do this, but now I understand. The Curse is wicked, my dear. It doesn’t just drain your magic; it makes you crave it even more.”

“Shh.” I take her hand, not at all surprised that nothing needs to be said for us to pick up where we left off. “Don’t waste your strength.”

“Once I knew someone was taking my magic, I tried not to fill myself. But it hurts not to, worse than it normally does. I still try, but sometimes the pain is too much. The blackness builds in my blood, swells in my veins. Letting it drain . . .”

“Stop,” I say, unable to hear the finer details. “It’ll be over soon.”

“Don’t I know it.” She laughs a little. “That bastard will get as little from me as possible, even if it does kill me.”

“No, that’s not what I mean.” I tell her everything I’ve learned, from the Blacks’ treachery to the Shadows to Winn to how Mom’s pendant holds all her good memories.

Her black eyes glisten. “Jeff. How strange to have a name, and such a normal name, too.”

“Please hold on, Nana. I’m going to save you, and you can’t say no because if you’re this incapacitated that means I’m in charge.” I fight back the tears, determined to prove that I can do this, trying to convince myself I can. Seeing her like this puts everything in perspective—all that matters right now is saving her and our bloodline.

Her lips, barely there in the first place, disappear, like she’s trying to keep her protests from coming out. “And how do you plan on doing that?”

I crawl into bed next to her. She seems so small and weak, barely a bump in the queen-size bed. “I don’t exactly have that figured out yet, but Levi . . . now that I know about his parents, I’m sure he has the answers I need.”

Her furrowed brow says she doesn’t like the idea. “You’re not talking to that Levi boy again. I don’t care if he claims to have principles or if he has information. It’s too risky. He could Curse you anytime he felt like it. You understand that, don’t you?”

“Fine. I won’t.” The lie feels awful on my tongue, but she doesn’t seem to notice. I know she’s thinking of my safety. Problem is, I’m only thinking of hers. “He once said Shadows were the worst mistake we ever made, which, to me, means that a witch somewhere in time made them. And if we made them . . .”

“We can unmake them,” she whispers. “Their power is an extension of our own, so we should be able to do anything they can.”

“Exactly. We just need to figure out how.” Which I’m pretty sure Levi can help me understand as well.

Her smile is weak, and yet warm. “No problem.”

I touch her silver-white hair, which I hardly ever see down. It’s softer than it looks, the ringlets not nearly as tight as mine or Mom’s. Whoever Nana loved, he must have had crazy curls. “What was my grandfather’s name?”

She eyes me. “You take to leadership and audacity far better than you think, dear.”

“Well?”

“Carlo,” she whispers. “I met him in Italy when I toured Europe and the old magic sites. He was a beautiful man, with a voice that made women throw themselves at his feet. But he came to me, and we spent the next few years in Florence, blissfully happy. You can imagine the rest.”

I can, and it hurts even for me. “Carlo, Carmina. Joseph, Josephine. Is this a tradition I wasn’t aware of?”

Her smile widens. “My father’s name was Theodore, so I suppose so.”

I laugh. “So much for us not knowing anything about our fathers.”

“It’s a natural curiosity.”

“Yeah.” I stare at her chandelier, all crystal and pearl, trying to focus as much as possible on this moment. “So I’m part Italian. That’s cool.”

“I’ll hang on, for you.” Nana’s hand goes limp in mine, and even though I know she fell asleep it feels like preparation for what’s to come.