I’d had the thought too late.
She was too far away. I couldn’t be sure.
I debated making a run for her, but the building was right beside the woods that ran along the Blackstone River. She’d see me coming. I’d never get there before she lost me in the trees. But I had to know! I had to know if it was Liz.
“Gideon,” I said, clutching my uncle’s arm. “We need to do something. I think that’s Liz Coleman, but I can’t be sure. We need a spell.”
My uncle’s brow furrowed. I could tell he wasn’t following. “A spell?” He looked back over to the building, piecing it all together. “I don’t know,” he stammered. “I’d need to think about it.”
“We don’t have time!”
I searched Gideon’s face, but I could see he was at a loss, just like I was.
The person in the distance dropped from the window ledge to the ground. Time was running out.
Think, Brynn. Think.
Nora needs you.
Suddenly a memory of Nora popped into my head. Nora in her floppy hat and sundress. Nora laughing. Nora swirling me in the air, saying, You, Brynn Warren, are my kind of witch.
That was it!
“Gideon! The children’s rhyme. The one that trips people. You need to do it.”
My uncle stared at me, dumbfounded.
“You know the one. You have to say it.”
He shook his head.
“I can’t do it,” I said. “My magic is too unstable.”
“You can do this.” Gideon grabbed my hand. “You’re not alone this time.”
I stared at my uncle, willing his certainty into my heart, then closed my eyes.
“Bumps and lumps, stumbles divine.” A familiar tingling sensation ran up my arm from Gideon’s hand. “Trip up anyone from the Graves bloodline.”
My eyes flew open and narrowed in on the person about to disappear into the forest.
I could see the magic of my words rippling over the tips of the wet grass.
The figure was almost at the tree line when—
—she tripped!
I let out a little shout of victory.
It was Liz. It had to be. She recovered almost immediately, disappearing into the cover of the forest, but I knew it was her.
I spun around to face my uncle, a huge smile on my face. “You did that, didn’t you? I felt that tingle up my arm.”
My uncle beamed back at me. “I may have given you a push, but, otherwise, that was all you, my dear. All you.”
Brynn!”
Was that someone calling my name? It was coming from so far away, and I was very tired.
“Brynn!”
I was dreaming it. No one was calling me.
I jolted at the sound of a bunch of little somethings hitting the window behind my chair. Pebbles? I straightened up, blinking in the sunlight filling the loft.
“Don’t make me climb these stairs. Rise and shine!”
I knew that voice.
I pulled the blanket from my lap. I must have fallen asleep in my armchair last night. After what happened in town, Gideon and I had headed home. Izzy and Nora had left a message on the B&B’s machine saying they were fine. Well, Izzy actually left the message while Nora muttered indecipherable threats in the background. The police hadn’t gotten around to questioning them, and while they were technically allowed to leave, their lawyer thought it would show good faith if they stayed. After that, I made myself a cup of tea, intending to puzzle out why Liz would be breaking into the records building, but all the excitement must have been too much for me.
I wrapped the blanket around my shoulders, and I pushed myself to my feet. It felt way too early for this. I stepped into my slippers, stumbled over to the door, and forced myself outside onto the landing. I grabbed the railing and looked down.
“There she is!”
I brought a hand up to shield the glaring sunlight from my eyes, but the brilliant sparkle coming from Roxie’s long boho jacket was nearly as blinding. “What are you doing here?”
“I’ve got news! News that you’re going to want to hear.”
All the memories of the town hall came flooding back. I sighed. Roxie’s news had not been all that useful so far. In fact, it had hurt a lot more than it had helped.
“Just hear me out, Brynn. I feel terrible about last night. I’ve come to make good.”
I climbed down the stairs. “I don’t blame you, Roxie. You told me you were speculating. I knew it was all,” I paused, searching for the right word, “conjecture.”
“Listen to you sounding like Beatty. You wouldn’t believe the talking to he gave me last night. I think he’d cut me off entirely if we weren’t related. Turns out Constance had been by to talk about some permit issues she was having with the house. Those were the affairs she needed to get in order. Although given how she said it, I don’t see how I can be blamed.”
We might have to agree to disagree on that point.
“But listen, now I have something that really might help you and your aunts.”
I rubbed a hand over my face. “Let’s hear it.”
“Would it kill you to show a little enthusiasm?”
I shot Roxie a warning look.
“Okay. Okay. So last night, someone,” she paused dramatically, flashing me a knowing smile, “broke into the town records building.”
Apparently, I wasn’t awake enough to realize I needed to register some surprise.
“Is this thing on?” Roxie tapped an invisible microphone. “I thought that would have garnered some reaction.”
I blinked. I really needed to step up my cover story game. “Sorry. I haven’t had my coffee yet. Why would someone break into the town records building?”
Unperturbed by my lack of reaction, Roxie pressed on. “At first, I, along with everyone else, thought it had to be kids. Vandalism maybe. But then I remembered something.”
I waited for her to go on. I wasn’t in the mood to beg for information we both knew she was dying to give.
“Well, hearing what happened reminded me of a juicy little story I picked up not too long ago. I probably shouldn’t say juicy, given all that’s happened, but it does involve grown women behaving badly, and we all know how entertaining that can be.”
“Which women?”
“Liz Coleman and Joanne Simpson.”
I frowned. “Joanne Simpson?” She had passed recently from an aneurysm. I suppose it wasn’t surprising I had a keen knowledge of everyone who passed away in town. I never missed reading the obituaries. I couldn’t help but feel guilty every time I did, but I couldn’t seem to stop either.
“That’s right. Do you know where Joanne worked before she passed?”
Suddenly, I found my interest piqued despite my initial skepticism. “She worked for the town, didn’t she?”
“That’s right. In the records department. Anyway,” Roxie said, leaning in, “the way I heard it, Liz came in one day and gave Joanne a really hard time requesting to view some sort of paperwork. Marilyn over at the hair studio said it was quite the squabble. Liz yelled something about not caring who owned what, and that she was a Graves and had every right to see what it was she was looking for.”
“What was it? What was she looking for?”
“I don’t know, but apparently she eventually got to see whatever it was, and she went ballistic.”
I squinted. “Ballistic?”
“Flipped over a pencil holder. Sent the pencils flying everywhere.”
It didn’t sound like much, but for Evenfall that was a pretty big deal.
“It has to mean something, don’t you think? Granted, after such a public spat, it’s hard to believe Liz would go back to the scene of the crime, as it were, but it can’t be a coincidence.”
“Huh.” Actually, I didn’t find it all that surprising, given the spell I had cast. “That is interesting.”
Roxie gave me an uncertain look. I could tell she was disappointed by my reaction, but after last night’s excitement had worn off, I realized that without the will as motive, I didn’t have a whole lot to go on. The fight at the records building was interesting, but it wasn’t exactly a smoking gun.
“I hate seeing you so worried. I wish there was more I could do.” Roxie patted my arm, then looked up at the B&B.
In the brilliant sunshine, Ivywood Hollow looked almost like a dollhouse with its tower, gables, and gingerbread trim.
After a quiet moment passed, Roxie mused, “It’s just so crazy to think about, isn’t it? Someone getting in like that?”
I nodded. “It all happened so quickly. The killer had to be someone who’d visited the house before.” I wrapped my arms around my waist. “Which goes against any theory it was a Graves family member. I don’t think any of the siblings or Liz have been inside.”
“Oh, well, I can solve that mystery for you.”
I looked back at Roxie.
“Graves House has an almost identical layout to Ivywood Hollow.”
“What?”
“They did have the same architect,” she said, still studying the house. “I’ve been in both. And while Ivywood has a few extra bells and whistles, in terms of structure, they’re mirror images.”
That would explain how the killer knew how to find the hidden staircase, if one of Constance’s relatives was in fact responsible.
“Anyway, I should get going,” she said, patting my arm again. “Let me know if there’s anything else I can do.”
I knew Roxie was disappointed. She had been so excited to share her news. And I wanted to make her feel better about the situation, but I didn’t know how. I couldn’t pretend the circumstances were anything but what they were.
I wrapped the blanket more tightly about my shoulders as Roxie ambled down the driveway.
I was just about to go back inside when the strangest feeling came over me.
It was a beautiful day. Nothing appeared out of place. But all of the sudden, I felt vulnerable. Exposed.
Like someone was watching me.
I looked up and down the street. I couldn’t see anyone, aside from Roxie.
Huh.
I stifled a yawn. It had been a late night. I was probably imagining it.
Instead of heading back over to the garage, I decided to go into the B&B. Now that I was up, I could at least get some coffee ready for when Nora and Izzy came home.
The silence waiting for me inside wasn’t exactly welcoming. The house felt so different without my aunts there. They both had such a life force, it felt empty without them.
Just then I felt something brush against my legs. I smiled. Of course, the place wasn’t completely empty.
I bent to scratch Faustus behind the ears. He wasn’t normally one to ask for attention. It was especially unusual given how disappointed he had been in me the night before.
“Things aren’t right, are they?”
The cat gave me a slow blink.
I straightened back up. “You must be hungry. Why don’t we go see what Izzy has for your breakf—”
A loud bang tore through the still house.
I jolted so hard the blanket wrapped around my shoulders fell to the ground. “What was that?” I looked at Faustus, but he wasn’t looking at me. His wide eyes were focused on the landing at the top of the stairs.
I let go of the breath I was holding.
Constance. She was banging the closet door again.
I planted my hands on my hips. Izzy had said they had examined the closet, but it seemed to me, it was time I checked it out for myself.
I laid a hand on the bannister and brought one foot up to rest on the bottom step. I looked back at the cat. “You coming?” He looked at me but didn’t move. If I had to guess, he wasn’t going anywhere that didn’t lead directly to the kitchen. “I’ll take that as a no.”
I climbed the stairs, my movements swirling dust motes in the rays of morning sun. Once I made it to the top, I walked carefully toward the closet, almost tiptoeing. I felt a little silly creeping along the hallway of my family home, but I couldn’t stop myself. I knew I wasn’t alone. If I had to put money on it, I was willing to bet the spirit of our deceased guest was hovering right behind me.
“Okay, Constance,” I whispered once I reached the closet. “Let’s see what you’ve got for me.”
I pulled the door open.
Nothing. Empty shelves from top to bottom.
I shouldn’t have been surprised. Again, Izzy told me they had emptied the closet, but knowing that didn’t prevent the disappointment from welling up inside of me. And I knew I wasn’t the only one feeling that way.
The hair at the back of my neck prickled with a wave of frustration that wasn’t my own.
Now what?
I stepped in closer to the little cupboard and ran my hand over the flat, honey-colored wood of the nearest shelf noting its smooth feel. I couldn’t help but admire the artisanship. The closet had been handmade. Its planks were seamlessly aligned, and each shelf was perfectly distanced from the next. Unfortunately, the careful design also made it clear there were no clues here waiting to be found, just a faint scent of potpourri.
“I’m sorry, Constance,” I said out loud. “I don’t get it.”
Maybe she was just frustrated her killer hadn’t been found, and this was the only way she could express it?
“I know you must be upset. I’m doing everything I can. Could you maybe give me another clue?”
Bang!
The closet door had swung shut again, barely missing my nose.
“Okay,” I said, blinking. “I’m not sure how much that helps.”
I stared at the closet a little longer before opening it again. I gave it another search, then threw my hands in the air. “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing in there.”
Bang!
To me that bang almost sounded like she was saying, Exactly!
“So you know there’s nothing in there. So maybe the closet is a symbol for something else?”
Silence.
“Okay, not a symbol.”
A closet with nothing in it. A closet with nothing in it.
Nope. That wasn’t helping.
I chewed on the side of my thumbnail. Most closets did have something in them, and Constance wanted me to find something. Maybe that was it? I had been thinking Constance was trying to lead us to a physical clue her killer had left behind, but what if that wasn’t the case? What if Constance was trying to lead me to something of hers? But Constance’s things weren’t here. I mean, of course they weren’t here. This wasn’t her house.
My breath caught. What had Roxie just said?
“Graves House has an almost identical layout to Ivywood Hollow.” I mumbled the words out loud without meaning to.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
“Graves House has the same layout as Ivywood Hollow!”
Bang!Bang!Bang!Bang!
“You want me to look in the closet at Graves House!”
There were too many bangs to count after that.
Of course that’s what she wanted! Why hadn’t I seen it before?
But I hadn’t, and if Roxie hadn’t have come by . . .
Oh no.
I raced down the stairs and out the front door.
I sprinted for the sidewalk, as best I could in my slippers.
I hadn’t exactly been overjoyed to see my old dance instructor even though she had gone out of her way to bring me information to make up for what had been a fairly honest mistake. And while I already knew most of what she had come to tell me, by pure fluke, she had given me the very thing I needed to solve another piece of the puzzle!
And I hadn’t even thanked her.
Most people would be long gone by now, but I knew Roxie was a slow walker, always stopping to smell the roses.
“Roxie!”
She had made it pretty far up the street, but she still heard me. As she turned, I shouted, “I forgot to tell you something!”
“What is it?” she shouted back.
“Thank you! Thank you so much!”
I could just make out the confused looked on her face. “Wait. Did I make good?”
“Did you make good?” I shouted back. “Roxie,” I threw my hands wide in the air, “you’re a star!”
She laughed and threw a get out of here hand at me before wiggling her hips and turning in a sparkling pirouette.
I shot her a wave and ran back up the driveway.
There was so much I needed to do. I needed a plan. I couldn’t just walk over to Graves House and break in in broad daylight. I needed to wait until dark. And I needed to choose an appropriate breaking-and-entering outfit. Oh! And I would need a spell to open any locked doors. I’d have to talk to Gideon about that. I also needed to—
Uh-oh.
There was something I needed to do before I did any of those things.
I skidded back into the B&B to find a very annoyed-looking cat waiting for me.
“Sorry! Sorry.”
Faustus turned and walked toward the kitchen, his fluffy tail sticking straight up in the air.
I had so many things I needed to do, but feeding the cat breakfast definitely came first.
Even though I was wearing gloves, my hands felt icy as I, once again, rode through the dark streets of Evenfall on my bicycle. But while the night was cold, the sky was clear, and the pavement shone under the streetlamps.
Izzy and Nora still hadn’t returned home by the time I had left. I didn’t like at all what that might mean. I could only hope whatever I found tonight would put an end to this once and for all.
As I glided onto Constance’s street, I immediately picked up on the familiar feel of its layout. It was just like ours. The same wide road. The same tall trees. The same beautiful old homes.
Well, the same beautiful old homes with the exception of Graves House.
Despite all the comparisons to Ivywood Hollow, I could already see the houses had gone in two very different directions.
I had to use all of my strength to get up the hill to reach Constance’s home. Where our street ended, hers carried on up a fairly short, but steep, slope. The exertion left me struggling to catch my breath, but when I made it to the top and finally got my first real look at the house, I found it difficult to breathe for entirely different reasons.
From town the house still looked stately, its battle scars softened by distance. But up here, bathed in moonlight, I couldn’t help but think Nora had been right. It looked every bit like a haunted house.
The design had so much in common with the B&B—the side tower and gables, the tall windows on every floor, the wraparound porch that hugged the lower level—all of it was the same. Sadly, the similarities only served to highlight the decay of Graves House. It was in a terrible state. The shingles on the roof were curled and battered, and the paint had peeled in too many places to count. Most disheartening for me, though, was the porch. It had completely caved in on one side, ruining the beautiful lines of the lower level. If the structure had fallen apart due to lack of funds, that would have been one thing, but to let it rot out of pure spite, that was something else entirely.
I found it hard to believe Constance had actually been living here. I eyed the blue tarp flapping against one of the outer walls. It was the only sign the place hadn’t been abandoned.
As I sat balancing on my bike, taking in the pitiable sight, a disturbing sensation came over me. All of a sudden, I felt quite certain I wasn’t just staring at the house; the house was staring back at me.
The feelings I was picking up on were not welcoming, and they made me wonder if Graves House had somehow taken on some of its mistress’s bitterness and made it its own. I’d certainly heard tales of stranger things.
I shook off the sensation.
I had a job to do.
I tucked my bike away in the ditch on the opposite side of the street, grabbed the flashlight from my jacket pocket, and hurried back up to the road.
When I made it halfway across the street, I stopped short.
There it was again. That feeling like I was being watched. And not by the house this time.
My heart pounded in my chest. I looked around but couldn’t see anyone.
I frowned. It was probably just the circumstances getting to me. There was definitely something about sneaking around at night, trying to break into someone else’s house, that could put a witch on edge.
I crept up to the foot of the porch and climbed the creaky steps, hoping they wouldn’t cave beneath my feet. I then reached for the handle on the front door and gave it a turn.
Locked.
No surprise there.
I had spent the later part of the afternoon with Gideon, going over what to do in this particular scenario. While I wanted to believe all my magic issues had been sorted after the events of the previous night, I couldn’t be sure. So, Gideon and I had practiced an unlocking finger charm. We practiced it over and over as though I were a witchling again. I had been hoping Gideon might come with me tonight, but I think he was overwhelmed by everything I had already put him through. On the bright side, he hadn’t had any more dire visions. At least not any he was willing to share. So that was something.
I put my flashlight between my knees and rubbed my hands together to warm my fingers.
I could do this. Just a few quick movements with my hands and the lock should click open. I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.
Snap with one hand. Snap with the other. Double tap the left fist with the right and flip both palms open to the sky.
I had not heard a click.
I opened my eyes and tried the door handle anyway. Still locked.
It was probably just the pressure of the moment. Another try should do the trick.
Snap. Snap. Double tap. Flip.
Nothing.
Okay, they do say the third time’s a charm.
Snap. Snap. Double tap. Flip.
Still nothing.
“Oh, come on,” I muttered. Yes, I had neglected my powers, but I had learned my lesson! At least I thought I had. My magic, apparently, was still a little miffed.
I took another breath before trying again. This time I muttered the words as I performed the actions, “Snap. Snap. Double tap. Fl—”
“What are you doing?”