House of Ivy & Sorrow

FORTY-FIVE





The Crafts come in as I heft the biggest cauldron we have onto the table. “How’s the Willow’s End barrier?” I ask, searching for the tools I need. Pliers. Knife. Scissors. Lots of cloth bandages. This spell has to work; otherwise the rest of my plan won’t.

No pressure.

Maggie cringes. “It’s not looking good.”

“We did the best we could,” Tessa says. “Hopefully it will buy us time.”

Prudence raises an eyebrow at the materials I’ve gathered. “And what are you up to? This doesn’t look like any spell I know.”

“Because it isn’t.” I pull out the chameleon scales. Definitely need something to denote transformation. While I’m at it, I grab a jar of cocoons. “I’m making it up as I go, and no, I don’t need to hear how crazy I am. I’m well aware.”

Pru holds up her hands. “As long as you know.”

“Okay . . .” I survey what I have, knowing it’s not enough. “Mags, grab me a mother-bear heart and a cub stomach from the cellar. Tessa, I need a lock of Nana’s hair. And Pru, I need the Hemlock braid from the door to the histories.”

As I wait for them to return, I pace and pace, focusing on what I want my magic to do. I am in control. It will listen to me.

“Jo?” Kat startles me out of my trance.

“Huh?”

“You still haven’t told us what you’re doing.”

Gwen looks at my supplies. “It looks scary.”

I take a deep breath. “It is, but we need more power. We need to intensify the next spell as much as we can, and we do that by channeling a spell together. With many witches.”

Kat raises an eyebrow. “Wait. Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

I nod. “I’m going to make you and Gwen Hemlocks.”

“As in . . . witches?” Gwen says. “Can you do that?”

“I don’t actually know. You both got me thinking about it back there with Levi. Giving magic to guys definitely isn’t good, but what about giving it to other girls? Girls I love as much as my own family, no less. I can rely on you. I always have.” I bite my lip, suddenly worried this is too much for them. “Like you said, I should turn to the people who care about me, not a complete stranger. So, what do you think?”

They exchange glances, and both their mouths slowly stretch into smiles.

“You’re serious?” Kat asks.

I nod.

Gwen laughs. “Nah, no magic for me. Who’d want that?”

“What are we giving? A toe? A finger?” Kat eyes the tools. “A tooth?”

I shake my head. “Nothing so serious. This is mostly me. We’re already bound together—you’ve done your—” My eyes go wide when my dad comes through the door carrying Nana. “What are you doing? You need to rest!”

“She insisted.” Tessa comes in behind them. “I thought it might be a good idea to have her close, considering you’re about to make up a spell.”

I purse my lips, forcing myself not to feel childish. “True.”

“The chair will do, Joseph. Set me there,” Nana whispers.

He shakes his head and sits in her chair, the one she once commanded this house from. The one that will be left empty forever if I fail. “I think I’ll hold on to you. Carmina would want that.”


She pats his chest. “You dear boy. I should have liked to have met you sooner.”

“Here you go.” Maggie thunks the animal parts on the table as Prudence comes down with the family braid, glittery with beads and gems.

“Thank you.” I take a deep breath as I venture a peek outside. The black-and-purple clouds hang so low it’s as if they’re creeping under the freeway. I can feel their weight, like particles of iron.

We don’t have much time.

“Pru, Maggie, Tessa, I have no idea how long this will take, but make as many protection charms as you can before I’m done. Use whatever you must—it doesn’t matter how rare the reagent at this point.”

They nod, heading for the ceiling-high cabinets, full to the brim with powerful potential.

I grab a bundle of oak twigs, their age suggesting permanence and history. After setting them in the cauldron, I sprinkle willow leaves over them for place. This place. Which has become as much a part of us as we’ve become part of it. I pluck a pair of black swallowtail butterfly wings from a case and put them in the center of my little nest.

Black, fragile wings—for the freedom and beautiful darkness magic is.

“Here goes nothing,” I whisper as I put my hand over the cauldron. I close my eyes and let the magic surge through me. It sings my name, calling for me to get lost in it, but I call back.

Not this time. You are mine to wield.

The reagents spark with fire, the flames blue and red as everything melts into the beginnings of my potion. The transformation reagents come first. Then I unwrap the mother-bear heart, its love and protectiveness radiating from the frozen tissue already. The potion absorbs the heart the second I place it in the iridescent blue liquid. The bear-cub stomach comes next, its need and trust adding to the mix.

I grab a bundle of dried hemlock to seal this phase of the potion, but then I hesitate. I’m missing something . . . something else in the mix for family.

It’s not loyalty—that should be taken care of because of the binding.

“What’s wrong, Josephine?” Nana asks.

“I . . .” When our eyes meet, warmth envelops me. I look to my dad, his face creased in concern. They are everything to me. They make me so . . . “Nothing. I’ve got it.” I almost knock Maggie over on my way to the herb cabinet. Searching the various jars and bottles, I finally find it: gardenia oil.

For joy.

A few drops, and the cauldron bubbles with glee. I pour more of my magic into it until it stabilizes. Then comes the dried hemlock.

“Isn’t that . . . poisonous?” Kat asks.

I give her a flat look. “No comment on the bear heart, but this concerns you?”

Gwen smirks. “Bear heart won’t kill us.”

“Neither will this—it’s a way to mark our family. It has certain powers for us. For you. Now shh—I need to concentrate.” Putting both hands over the potion, I pick out each ingredient, weaving together the magic and place and family, making it permanent.

“Good, good,” Nana whispers. “I see what you’re doing.”

I nod, relieved to have her input. “Now the payment.”

I cut a tuft from the bottom of the Hemlock braid, the hair of every generation giving its power. Then I come over to Nana and clip a lock of her silver hair. She takes my hand. “You can do this. I believe you can do this.”

I kiss her forehead. “I needed to hear that.”

After her lock, I offer my own. Then comes the bigger stuff—the painful stuff. I’m not sure which to offer first, so I close my eyes and let my hand come down on something at random.

Pliers.

I let out a slow breath, the thought of pain making my heart pound. I run my tongue along my teeth. Which can I live without? How hard will I have to pull? Settling on a top right tooth—not too far back or front, hopefully concealable—I clamp the pliers down. The metallic taste makes my mouth water when it should be dry. My hands shake, and it sounds as if I’m not the only one who has stopped breathing.

I hear myself scream, and a shot of pain radiates through my cheek. The tooth, its long root white against the blood, sits between the pliers’ tongs. My head spins, and before I know it, Gwen has me by the shoulders.

“Steady.” She holds out some cloth. “Put it in your mouth. You’re drooling blood.”

“Oh.”

Well, that hurt. It was probably good to start there. Maybe the rest won’t be so bad. I put the tooth into the mixture, bracing myself for the next act.

“More?” Kat says when I put the pliers to my fingernail.

I nod. “I’m asking a lot—I must give a lot.”

A fingernail.

A toenail.

A chunk of flesh.

By the time I run the knife over my hand, I’m in so much pain it hardly registers. I let the blood flow into the concoction, waiting for the liquid to settle. I don’t know why, but I know it has to settle before I stop the flow. It’s like the bubbling cries for more payment, more pain, more sorrow.

And then, in an instant, it stops simmering. I pull my hand away, dizzy and tired, and the battle hasn’t even started.

Breathing in the magic, I fill up only to pour it into the spell. It needs more. More. I’m terrified by how much it needs. This will take time, which I don’t have. Lightning flashes so brightly I can see it through the green velvet curtains. The screams are on top of us, and the house moans back as the wind pushes at it.

I can feel him near; his greedy, evil wanting swirls overhead. He has broken through the outer barriers, and he stands before our house of ivy, fighting his way in. I don’t have to look to know.

“Everyone!” I cry. “I need your help to finish this off.”

Their hands encircle the pot, and they pour their magic into my spell. We weave and weave the elements together, use our magic to knit them until they cannot separate. Little by little, the potion shrinks and forms. Into what, I’m not sure, except that they are round, about the size of an Olympic medal.

The color changes to a sandy brown, with flecks of black. As I peer down at the two circles, I try not to laugh. I hold them out for Gwen and Kat, who eye them warily.

“A cookie?” Gwen asks.

I smile. “Nothing says home like a chocolate-chip cookie, right?”

Kat grabs hers. “Guess we should be happy it doesn’t look like bear heart.”

“True.” Gwen takes a bite. “Huh, it actually tastes like home.”

Kat nods in agreement. “Except I don’t feel any different.”

“Me eith—” Gwen falls from her chair and Kat follows. Their eyes don’t close, and when I put my finger to Gwen’s neck, I can’t find a pulse.