Once again Ashley has no idea just how close to the mark she is. I wish I could explain it all. Someday, somehow, I will. If I have enough somedays ahead of me.
I turn back to look at number three Pinecone Drive. It looks just like it did in December, right down to the patchy snow on its lawn. Narrow, with a set of disproportionately wide stairs that lead to an enormous front porch. The second floor with its big wrap-around terrace, and the third floor has that same pointy turret like the house is a teeny, tiny little castle. I think part of me was expecting it to look different. Like there had to be something on the outside to give away all the sinister stuff going on inside.
I lean down and reach through the open window to hug my friend good-bye. “I love you,” I say. “Thank you for everything.”
“I’ve literally never heard you sound so serious.” When I pull away, I see the fear in my friend’s eyes. But she must see in mine that there is nothing she can say that will make me get back in the car.
“I’m going to get Kat.” She turns back to her phone, my address still programmed into her GPS, and shifts into drive. “I really don’t understand what’s happening here, but I can tell you need your mother.”
“Ashley, don’t—” I begin, but she pulls away before I can finish my protest.
I’m left alone on Pinecone Drive, across the street from my old visual art teacher’s house. No—not alone. I can feel that Anna is still close. Her spirit sends pleasant shivers up and down my spine, almost like she’s putting her arms around me.
I put one foot in front of the other and make my way to her old front door.
CHAPTER FORTY
Inside
Should I knock? Ring the doorbell? Instinctively I start to slide my hand into my back pocket, but before I can so much as touch the knife, someone opens the door from the other side.
Victoria.
I throw myself into my old teacher’s arms.
If Victoria is here, then everything is going to be okay. Maybe she’s already saved Nolan. Maybe she’s already sent Helena running scared in the other direction, and we can all just go home and take a break from all this luiseach drama.
Or maybe . . . maybe Helena is holding her prisoner too. I loosen my grip so I can look Victoria in the eye, but she keeps hugging me tight. Has Helena been trying to force Victoria onto her side of the rift? No. That wouldn’t do Helena any good—Victoria doesn’t even have her powers anymore. Can Victoria even sense Anna’s presence?
That’s when I realize: the instant Victoria opened the door, Anna vanished. Why did she disappear on me? Even with my teacher’s arms around me, I feel suddenly, terribly alone.
Victoria’s long, almost-black hair is soft against my face. She’s wearing the same flowing, witchy clothes she’s always worn, clothes I thought made her look creepy before, but now I realize they’re just part of what makes Victoria look like Victoria, just like my colorful vintage choices are part of me. It’d be strange to see my old teacher in jeans and a T-shirt instead of a long gray skirt and matching peasant top, with a crocheted shawl around her shoulders.
From somewhere inside the house a husky voice inside calls, “Let our guest inside, Victoria.”
I follow my old teacher into her living room. It’s just the same as it was four months ago, bright and preternaturally warm.
Except for the fact that now Nolan’s blood has stained one of Victoria’s plush floral chairs. He struggles to get up when he sees me, but he can’t. Goose bumps rise on my forearms, a cool breeze in the otherwise warm room. A spirit is near.
Nolan’s head tilts to one side. Invisible hands press like ropes into the sleeves of the jacket I love so much (Mom must have gotten it back to him after all), and I can see him wince in pain as they squeeze ever tighter. His blue jeans look even more worn than usual, and his tawny hair is pushed back behind his ears instead of falling across his forehead. He hasn’t changed his clothes or showered for at least two days, not since Helena brought him here. And judging by the circles under his eyes, he hasn’t slept either.
A woman stands facing him, her back to me. She seems to tower over him, despite the fact that she’s at least six inches shorter than he is, just like I am. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun, but I can tell that it’s thick and long and curly, just like mine used to be.
I hold my breath as she turns.
I’ve dreamed of her for so many nights, but now here she is, come to life right in front of me. The brown eyes that started out warm and then narrowed as she squeezed my helpless infant body.