House Of Ivy And Sorrow Part 10

I shrug. Picking up the quill, I finish off the letter I was working on. It's for Lorena Starr, one of Nana's friends from her childhood. I remember stories about how Lorena would visit here, and she and Nana would curse the boys who picked on other kids. Now Lorena is the head of her house, tied to her home and the responsibility of protecting it. They are the keepers of knowledge that younger generations need. I might be important for preserving the Hemlock bloodline, but Nana is just as vital. Without her, I'd know nothing.

I watch Nana as she stirs soup at the stove, an unsettling feeling coming over me. I push it back. Worrying will get us nowhere. We both know the risks of seeking out this dark man and his magic, but there's no turning back. Like she said-it's us or them.

But the feeling won't go away. My heart pounds too fast, and my hands are so clammy I wonder if I really am getting sick. Then I freeze, realizing what's going on. It's not Nana I should be worrying about. It's Kat. The panic hits me like ice water.

Something is after her.

My chair crashes to the floor when I stand. I rip out a handful of hair and close my eyes, picturing Kat's room-the black-and-purple bedspread, the punk posters, the glow stars on the ceiling. My fingers go numb as the magic pulls me to her house. I can feel myself shifting planes, and when the hair in my hand turns to ash, I'm there.

But Kat isn't.

I say her name, though nothing comes out. The house is completely silent, since her parents both work at the city building. I swear the bus would have had her home by now, and it seemed like my gut was saying to come here.

Gla.s.s shatters downstairs. As I run for the kitchen, I know what Kat meant when she said it was like she was having a heart attack. It feels like my chest is about to explode. It feels like I'm going to die. And if I feel like that . . .

Kat stands in the middle of the room, swatting at something on her face. When she turns I see what it is-a bubble of water covering her mouth and nose.

SEVENTEEN.

No matter how much water Kat wipes away, the bubble stays in place. I've heard of the spell-it's an easy combination of fish scales, raven hearts, and dew gathered from tombstones-but I've never seen it in action. How simple it is-almost comical in appearance, and yet terrifying in practice. When our eyes meet, hers start watering.

I've never seen Kat cry.

I want to tell her it'll be okay. That's the least I can do to calm her, and I can't manage it with my stupid voice gone.

Her pale skin begins to turn blue, which makes the pain in my chest burst into something part agony, part will to survive. I rush to her side in time to keep her standing and scan the kitchen for any reagents I can use to stop this. It has to be something pure, something with life to purge the death.

The orchids.

Kat's mom loves her orchids. They're all over the house, and she treats them like babies. I once heard her singing to them as she sprayed special water over their leaves. She'll freak when she finds them all dead . . . but it's my only option.

Kat might weigh nothing, but when she goes limp in my arms the weight brings me to my knees. After lowering her to the floor, I hold my hand to the orchids on the table. I use my magic to suck out their life, and they shrivel into black husks. Their power radiates through my hand, pure and clear and hopeful. I rush for the next group around the TV, then the batch in the living room, until I have enough orchid life in me that it a.s.suages the pain in my chest. The magic begs for me to keep it for myself, but I quickly push back the thought and run to Kat.

I put my trembling hand to her mouth. It's cold and wet, still submersed in the bubble. The moment I release the orchid life, the water turns black and hot. My scream goes unheard as the death spell sears my hand, fighting against the life. It sputters and hisses, turning into steam the color of ash. I gag on the smell, putrid like the decaying carca.s.ses we keep in the bas.e.m.e.nt.

Before I lose my hand entirely, I force the rest of the spell out as fast as I can. The bubble gets hotter and hotter, until it's all melting steam. When it's gone, I pull back my hand, which is burned so bad there's blood at my knuckles.

But Kat comes first. I put my head to her chest so I can hear her heartbeat. It's there, but she's not breathing.

I never did learn CPR, but I have to at least try. I open Kat's mouth and put mine to hers. Her chest rises as I breathe out, and I wait for her to cough and sputter back to life like they do in the movies.

Except she doesn't.

As I breathe into her mouth again, my panic intensifies to the point that I can barely get air myself. I promised to protect her, and I've already failed. I should have never let her do the binding. This is what happens when normal people get caught up in magic.

She can't die. I need her.

"Wake up!" I scream despite being mute, shaking her because I don't know what else to do. "You're supposed to wake up!"

She coughs, and black water spews from her mouth as if she gulped down a whole lake of it. I hold her up, and she keeps going until I worry a lung will come out next. When she's spent, she says, "I really thought I was going to die."

Tears break free as I wrap my arms around her. She almost did. I don't know if she understands how close it was.

"How did you stop it?" she asks.

I point to the table, where the orchids look like charred husks.

"My mom's gonna kill me." She looks at me, and I'm surprised to find her smiling.

"I guess it doesn't really matter." She leans her head on my shoulder. "Thanks, Jo."

I squeeze her arm once, and then hold out my burned hand, which looks even worse now. Her eyes go wide. "Holy c.r.a.p. What do you need? Ice?"

I nod.

Once she gets that, she cleans up the black water. I feel awful that she's doing it all, seeing as she's the one who almost died, but my hand still feels like it's on fire.

How did this happen? I write on the fridge's whiteboard.

Kat looks me in the eye, her fear washing over me. "It was a letter in the mail. I swear it looked totally normal, but the picture inside . . ." She points to the counter, where a shiny photo reflects the fluorescent lights. "I touched it, and that's when the bubble came."

From here, I can tell there's no darkness left on the image, but I still approach it warily. Another cursed picture. If I had any doubt that this was related to our hunters, it's gone now. I look down, and my friends stare back at me. This was taken the day we ate outside under the tree. Gwen is in the sun, chatting with Adam and looking like a freaking G.o.ddess. Kat's sipping her drink, staring at the sky. There's a big black X over her face.

The threat couldn't be any clearer.

But there's something that might help, except it's as horrible as it is helpful-Winn is looking at the camera, his eyes locked in suspicion, while he holds me possessively. My oblivious smile looks silly, and I hate myself for not noticing whoever took this picture. Winn clearly did.

I turn the photo over, and chills run down my spine as I read: I spy with my little eye . . . a girl who has a lot to lose.

My breaths come fast and short as I process this simple little line. Whoever wrote it is pure evil. They can't get through the magical barriers around the town and my house, so instead they hit me at my weakest point: the people I care about. It feels like they're telling me to surrender now before it gets worse.

Kat stands next to me. "Don't worry. We'll get them first."

I force a nod and write, We need to tell Nana.

"Right. Just let me change." She heads for her room, and I follow closely behind. No leaving her alone. Ever.

I run my thumb back and forth over the picture as I wait outside her door. How will I protect them all? It seemed overwhelming enough to worry about Kat, but everyone I know? If the evil is this close, there's no telling when or who it'll attack.

"Let's get out of here," Kat says when she emerges, now wearing a purple-and-green striped shirt.

We head downstairs and out the front door, only to find another problem standing right in front of us-Gwen. She puts her hands on her hips, her anger crystal clear. "Sick, huh?"

EIGHTEEN.

When Gwen first talked to me in elementary school, I was sure I was a charity case. She was such a pretty, outgoing little girl. Everyone loved her. Everyone wanted to be her friend. Boys and girls alike would flock around her at recess, hoping she'd choose them to play with. She hopped from crowd to crowd, as if she were trying on friends and none were good enough. Then in third grade, after my mom died, she sat down next to me and Kat at lunch.

"Can I eat with you?"

"Sure," I said. She was Gwendolyn Lee, after all. No one rejected Gwendolyn Lee.

Kat swallowed her sandwich bite, eyeing Gwen. "Is this some kind of joke?"

Gwen shook her head. "Why would I do that?"

"Because everyone else would," I said. It was true. A girl like her shouldn't be with outcasts like us. It had to be a dare. Or some punishment for losing a bet.

Gwen frowned. "I just wanted to sit with you."

"We don't need you," Kat said. "We don't care about being cool or popular."

"I know." Gwen sighed, like even at eight years old she understood how the world worked. She understood that everyone else was trying to get somewhere by being her friend, and all she wanted was people who really cared about her.

So we let her stay, and she's never left. In fact, she might value our friendship the most. That's why, as she stares at us with hurt eyes, I want bury myself in a grave.

"Funny thing, Jo," Gwen says as I hide my burnt hand behind my back. "I was coming here to grab Kat so we could storm your house with get-well treats and good gossip, whether your grandma liked it or not. But here you are."

"Gwen . . ." Kat glances at me like she knows what's coming.

Gwen points at her. "You, shut up." Then she turns on me. "So you're too sick to see me, but you can come all the way to Kat's house to hang out with her?"

I stare at the ground, wishing I could say something. But no, all I can do is let her think what she thinks, which is closer to the truth than I want it to be.

"I made her," Kat says. "She had some of my notes . . ."

Gwen holds up her hands. "Whatever. You think I can't see what's going on here? I always knew you two were closer, but I thought you'd at least wait until graduation to cut me out."

"What?" Kat takes a few steps forward. "Gwen, that is so not what's going-"

"Then explain those necklaces!" She points to Kat's charms, the ones to help her fingernail heal. "We've begged Jo for those, and she's always said her Nana only makes them for family!"

Kat grabs them, her desperate eyes on me, as if I'll have a good explanation. It does look bad. Even if I had a voice, I still wouldn't have a reply.

"You guys are totally shutting me out, and after all we've been through I think that's a pretty s.h.i.tty thing to do." She stomps back to her truck while both of us watch helplessly. As she drives off, my throat tickles.

"Perfect," I say. "Now I get my voice back."

"We could go after her," Kat says.

I shake my head. "We don't have time. Nana needs to know about this, and then we have to find Winn." I hold out the picture. "He had to have seen who took this, which means he could describe the person."

"Good point."

I sigh. "Too bad it doesn't help me know which person they'll attack next. You'd think they would have gone for Winn first, since he saw. But it's like they knew somehow that you were bound to me, and therefore most important."

Her eyes go wide. "You think?"

"Yeah. We'll have to figure out how to protect everyone after I get more info from Winn." We speed-walk in the direction of my house.

"Nana!" I yell once we get back. "Nana!"

"She's gone." My dad emerges from the kitchen, wiping his hands on a towel. By the way he stares, I know he can see again. I feel like a dork for blushing, but he hasn't seen me since he found out the truth. Somehow, it's like the first time he's truly looking at me. "You got your voice back."

"Yup. And you can see."

He smiles. "The house looks a lot nicer than I imagined. It sounded on the brink of collapsing."

"She likes to talk back. I imagine her as my cranky old aunt." I point toward the apothecary. "Did you say Nana left? She hardly ever leaves."

"She took Maggie to fortify the barriers around town again. They had a whole bag of bones and some bottles of snakeskins."

"Good." I'm glad Nana already knows what happened and is doing what she can to protect my friends. As long as Gwen doesn't leave Willow's End or get a horrible letter in the mail, hopefully she's safe for now. "A dog skeleton, to sound warnings. And snakeskins to poison magical trespa.s.sers."

"Did something happen?" he asks. I hold out the picture for him, and he inspects it with this funny half frown. "So that's your boyfriend? The one from the pizza place?"

"Uhhh, kind of?" Cue awkward silence. It keeps smacking me across the face like this-the whole "I have a father" thing. "He's not my boyfriend. At least not yet. I don't know. We're just dating."

"Okay." He hands the picture back, not seeming convinced. "Whatever it is, it's fine. I guess. As long as you aren't, uh, never mind. None of my business."

"Yeah . . ." I can't look at him, positive he's implying what I think he's implying. "That's not really the point right now."

"But he has his arm-"

I point to the big X on Kat's head. "Whoever put that curse on you? They tried to kill Kat, and-"

"Your hand!" He takes my wrist, inspecting the red skin. "Is this how you saved her?"

I wince at his touch. "Part of it."

"That's what Dorothea must have meant. Come to the kitchen." He disappears, and I start to wonder if either of us will ever finish a thought without interrupting the other. But once I see what's on the table, I smile. Nana set out a balm for my hand and extra charms for my bracelet. He pulls out the chair for me. "Seems like your grandmother knows everything."

"Almost." I sit, putting my hand in the bowl. The creamy mixture is cool and soothing. It smells like roses, though that's only to cover up what's really in it. My guess is some kind of blend of animal innards and healing herbs. "Look at the back of that picture."