House Of Ivy And Sorrow Part 21

"Jo?" Kat says as we sweep ash off the foundation.

"Yeah?"

She leans in close to whisper. "Promise me Gwen gets to know what I know. It's not fair that she's on the outside, and I'd hate it if you erased her memory of this. She belongs with us."

Nana may not be a fan of the idea, but deep in my gut it feels right, important. Gwen, Kat, and I have always been bound together by friends.h.i.+p, and that should never change. "I promise."

She smiles. "Good, because I hate keeping secrets from her."

"Me too." As I think of her so far away at the hospital, I wouldn't mind having her bound to me. Then I would know if she was safe. "When she gets out of the hospital, I'll tell her everything. Hopefully she won't freak out."

Kat laughs. "It's Gwen. She'll have to freak out a little."

I smile. "True."

Her expression turns serious, and I'm not sure I want to hear what she has to say next. "What Levi did-"

A truck honks, and I turn to see Winn pulling up next to the fleet of pickups. I run over, happy to avoid whatever Kat was going to say. I don't want her to know how tempting using Levi is to me, because I'm sure she'd kill me for it. I wrap my arms around Winn's neck and kiss his cheek. "There you are."

He kisses me back. "Sorry, my mom took forever picking what I should bring."

I look to his truck bed, which is filled with furniture. A dining-room table, a hutch, and an old rocking chair. "Is that from your attic?"

"Yup." He pulls me off and starts unhooking bungee cords. "And this isn't even half of it. Still have a few beds and an entire living room to haul over."

I help him with the cords. "There's really that much up there?"

"You wanna come see?" His face is full of hope, and my heart flutters. His attic . . . there could be something helpful up there, since it would have been where Great-Great-Aunt f.a.n.n.y kept her history. For all I know it could still be there hiding, waiting for me. It could help me solve her death, and hopefully clear Winn of any responsibility.

I look to Kat, and she waves her hand as if she knows even from a distance that I'm about to ask her if I can leave. After we help with putting the furniture under the donations tent, we hop into his truck and drive to his place.

"You look better today," Winn says as we head inside. The magic is as strong as I remember. I can't help but take a little, though I'm already full. "Had me pretty worried last night."

I sigh. "It's been a crazy couple weeks, but helping at Gwen's took my mind off things."

"That's good." We climb the stairs to the second floor. The hall is tall and narrow, and I wonder which door leads to his room as we walk to another set of stairs.

"It's quiet. Are your parents gone?" I ask.

"Mom went to visit Gwen and Mrs. Lee at the hospital, and my dad is trying to round up extra seed so they can still plant on time."

"I see." Perfect. Alone.

When he opens the door to the attic, it's obvious to me that this place was meant to hold histories like any witching house. The ceilings are vaulted, and windows let in good reading light. The floors are finished in fine wood, and there is plenty of room for bookshelves. Except Winn's family has chosen to use that s.p.a.ce for about a century's worth of old furniture, piled haphazardly for as far as I can see.

"Do you guys throw anything away?" I ask.

He smirks. "Not if it's still in good condition."

"I guess since it's helping Gwen, I'll overlook the packrat tendency." I take a few tentative steps inside, worried that if I breathe too hard it'll all come cras.h.i.+ng down. "No wonder it took your mom forever to decide what you should bring."

"No kidding." He points to a nice-looking lamp with a pink ribbon tied to it. "The bow means we can take it."

I scan the room, noticing that some of the ribbons are attached to pieces that are practically buried. "We're gonna be up here for a while."

His smile turns mischievous. "Is that a problem?"

I shake my head. "Let's get to work before I regret not bringing a chaperone."

He bites his lip, like he wants nothing more than to spend the day kissing me in the dark corners of this dusty attic. I wish, but trying to find f.a.n.n.y's history in this could take weeks. I need it now. Yesterday. We start gathering the marked furniture, taking the smaller pieces downstairs to get them out of the way, and then begin the task of unearthing beds and sofas.

"Wow." I hold up a beautiful lamp that I swear is Tiffany. "This is an antique dealer's heaven."

He laughs. "I know, right?"

We've been working for a while, and I still haven't found anything f.a.n.n.y might have written in. Sighing, I sit on the nearest couch we've dug out, its plastic crinkling at my weight. "So, have you ever found any family stuff up here? Pictures or journals?"

"Oh, yeah." Winn sets down the large vase he pulled off the nearest bed and sits next to me. "My great uncles fought in World War II. My dad dug out their alb.u.ms and medals when he was a kid. We keep them downstairs now."

"Anything older?"

He gives me a curious look. "Sounds like you're looking for a particular answer."

I shrug, already hating the lie on my tongue. "Nana said that back when she was girl there were really strange rumors in town."

"Really?" His brow furrows, and I can almost feel his nerves. "Like what?"

"Just about weird stuff happening in Willow's End. I've always been curious about it, and I was hoping there might be something up here that could tell us more."

"Hmm . . ." He rubs his chin as he looks around the attic. It seems the more we've "cleaned," the less organized it's become, as if more things keeping appearing from the nether. "I don't think so."

"Well, it sounds like some of the town thought there really was a . . ." Suddenly I can hear my heart thumping, and the word catches in my mouth. I look at Winn, his eyes curious but not at all cunning like Levi's. He doesn't ooze desire or reek of darkness. He's just a guy, and part of me wants to keep it like that. "Never mind. It's stupid."

I stand, deciding to get back to work, but Winn grabs my hand to stop me. "C'mon, Jo, you can't leave me hanging like that." He tugs at my arm, and when I don't sit back down he gets up. "I promise I won't laugh."

I roll my eyes. "We should get more stuff to Gwen's."

"Tell me. Please?" He pulls me so we're facing each other, and his eyes bore into mine with a kind of hope that is so intense I have to cave.

"Nana says there really was a witch in town back then. That it wasn't just a myth, and people were being cursed, but then someone killed her." I don't blink, don't breathe, for fear of missing a key reaction. "Have you ever heard of something like that?"

Winn's eyes flicker with recognition, and for a second I think he might tell me what he knows about this house and what happened here. But then I see fear cross his face, and he tries to brush it off with a low chuckle. "Is that all? I've heard that myth, but I don't think it's true."

"You said you wouldn't laugh." My heart races because it feels like he's lying-like he might know all about the very world I hide from him-but he pulls me closer and gently puts his hand on my cheek. His palm is rough but warm, and it sends a jolt of tingles down my spine that may or may not be magic.

"Can I kiss you now?" he asks. "Because I don't think I can take this anymore."

He doesn't wait for my answer, and his lips against mine are insistent. I wonder if this might be a distraction tactic, but then he pulls me right up against his chest and I forget everything. I let myself get caught up in him. His kisses and all the magic up here make me dizzy and giddy. I'm moving purely on instinct now, craving to be closer to him. I push my hips into his, and he guides me to the sofa.

I gasp when his weight presses me against the cus.h.i.+on, and he pulls back. "Did I hurt you?"

I shake my head. Biting my lip, I can feel my face flus.h.i.+ng at the thought. "Just, um, can you kiss me . . . harder?"

"H-harder?" His smile is drenched in shock. "Did you seriously say that?"

I nod, pulling him closer again. "Can't I like it, too?"

"Best. Girlfriend. Ever." Winn's lips smash against mine, and his fingers are tangled in my hair. I can't help but slide my hand under his s.h.i.+rt. His skin is warm and comforting, and I wonder if maybe Nana had the right idea about protecting the house and hiding. I could hide in this protected house with Winn . . . have my own daughter . . .

"Winn? Are you up there?" his mother calls.

He pushes away from me, scrambling for his s.h.i.+rt. "Yeah! One sec! c.r.a.p, what time is it?"

"I have no idea." I sit up, breathless and surprised to find myself s.h.i.+rtless as well. I seriously don't remember that happening. "Talk about bad timing."

"Tell me about it." He shakes his head, his eyes running over me. "Do you think we really would have . . . ?"

I can feel the smile stretch across my face. "Maybe."

He whimpers, and I laugh. Holding up a finger, he says, "Be right back. I'll get my mom to leave."

"Okay." I rake my fingers through my hair, and he runs down the stairs with loud, quick steps.

It feels weird sitting in Winn's attic without a top, so I put my T-s.h.i.+rt back on and start digging through more stuff to distract myself from my pounding heart. He doesn't come right back, and I start to worry his mom knows I'm up here.

As I continue toward the far corner, I finally feel calmer, but the magic keeps buzzing. Then I realize it's getting stronger back here, and if that's the case . . .

I push through piles of stuff as quickly and as quietly as I can, trying to follow the spell's trail. Reaching that corner, I know the magic surrounds something in the wall. It resonates in my blood, and because of that I'm sure it's a Hemlock enchantment. f.a.n.n.y must have put something here.

Placing my hand on the wall, I try to figure out the spell. It's a code of some sort, but it doesn't feel very complex, especially in comparison to the rest of the spells on the house. I push some magic into the wood and am rewarded with an image in my mind: Pointer fingers and thumbs placed on four knots in the wood.

I follow the instructions quickly, afraid that Winn will come back any second. A small opening in the wall appears, and I hold my breath as I realize there's a book in there. And not just any kind of book, but a history. Hope floods through me. There must be something in here that will save Nana and me from the Curse. But as I read the t.i.tle, I wish I'd never found it. It can't be true, and yet the proof couldn't be any clearer.

History of Cordelia Black.

I shove it back into the little compartment-afraid that it'll unleash a spell on me-and the wall reseals. Shaking, I make my way back to the couch and pace as the reality sinks in.

Winn is related to the Blacks. His family must have killed f.a.n.n.y. Even if I can't see the shadows around him, he's probably like Levi. Has he been lying to me this whole time? I wish my gut didn't say yes. His hatred for Levi is way more than being protective of his girlfriend-I just didn't want to see it. I still don't.

"Okay! She's gone." When Winn rounds the corner, his smile drops. "Are you okay?"

Everything feels wrong, like I'm falling down a dark pit I'll never be able to get out of. I don't want to, but I have to give him up before he has me completely. I head for the stairs, unable to look at him. "I better go. Sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Wait! Can you tell me what's going on?"

I hear him following me, but I don't turn around. Instead, I rip out a tuft of hair and use it to teleport the second I have cover. When I appear in my room, I lean against the wall, shaking.

THIRTY-FIVE.

"Ugh!" I almost throw Mom's pendant out the window, but restrain myself just in time. The stupid thing won't work no matter what I do. Toppling onto my bed, I stare at the crack in my ceiling. I even tried that as a pendant trigger, and all I got was a nice afternoon nap. But after yesterday's miserable revelation that my boyfriend is probably a Shadow, this pendant is my best option. A long shot, but at least I can't get Cursed while hiding in my room.

My phone buzzes on my nightstand, and I don't dare look at it because it's probably Winn again. The thought of talking to him fills me with panic. I'm too tempted to answer it, to fall deeper into whatever trap he's laid. But then I think of Nana dying, and my resolve grows stronger. I can't let her down like that. I have to focus on saving her.

"Jo?" my dad calls from the hall. When I don't answer he taps on the door, and then he cracks it open. "Can I talk to you?"

I shrug. I'm still mad at him for not telling me about Nana, but part of me wants to cry on his shoulder and tell him all the horrible things that have happened in the past few days.

The door swings open, and that's when I notice the sleek white box he carries. It's my computer. I suck in my excitement, trying to look as indifferent as possible. He can't buy me off. I mentally repeat that as he sets it on my bed. I want so badly to reach out and touch it, but I hold back. "You think this will fix everything?"

"No, but it arrived and I thought you'd like to have it. Just because you're mad at me doesn't mean I'll keep a gift out of spite."

Ugh, how am I supposed to resist when he's so nice? "You should have told me about Nana."

"Perhaps." He looks at his hands. "We weren't sure how it would progress, Jo. Your mother had it for a few years, and Dorothea didn't want to raise the alarm if she had that long to figure it out. If we'd known this guy would drain her so quickly, yes, maybe the decision would have been different. But she didn't know."

I put a finger to the glossy box. "Even if we had a few years, you still should have told me. I'm not a little girl anymore, and I'll be the next head of this house. I have a right to know when my family members get hurt."

He purses his lips. "You'll have to talk to your grandmother about it."

"I . . ." I haven't talked to Nana since I found out. Every time I think about it, my stomach gets sloshy and sick. There is so much to tell her, but I can't watch her die like I watched Mom.

"She keeps asking about you, and Maggie is already tired of being grilled for updates." He stands. "I can't imagine how hard this is, but don't forget that this isn't only about you. Dorothea deserves much more than a cold shoulder, considering all she's done for you."

Watching him go, I'm stunned by the reproach. He shuts my door, but I continue staring at it, baffled that my dad is . . . a dad. How did it happen so quickly? That guilt trip made it feel like he's been parenting for years. I glance at my pretty computer box, but I can't get myself to open it. Instead, I flop back into my pillows, the remorse cutting straight to my heart.

He's right. Of course he is.

I shouldn't punish Nana, but I can't help thinking about how long she kept my mother's illness from me, too. Apparently, Mom had been Cursed around the time I turned four. I was too little to remember or to even know she was sick, so they hid it from me.

Nana didn't tell me until I was six and a half, and by then I'd already noticed how quickly Mom got tired and how often she needed to go to the bathroom. I just didn't know it was to throw up the black blood. It was bad enough learning Mom was that sick, but worse to know she'd been that way for a long time while I lived like nothing was wrong. I took her for granted, not knowing how little time I'd actually have with her.

I squeeze my eyes shut. No more crying. I'm so tired of this emptiness, this constant ache in my chest, as if I've lost part of my soul.

Grief is such a strange thing. Sometimes it seems to be gone entirely, but then one smell or sound or memory and it's as if it was waiting there, in the shadows, until you noticed it following you.

Lavender envelops me, and I tense. My lungs can't seem to get enough of it; they beg to breathe in more to make sure the scent is still there.

That's when I realize only a moment of true grief can trigger the pendant. The voices kick in, but these sounds make me wonder if I want to look. I venture a peek and quickly s.h.i.+eld my eyes again. Yup, that's my mom and dad doing it. Apparently, the memories don't come in order. Good to know. I really wish I could plug my ears, but I want to know when it switches.

This is way too much information.