Alice and Susannah sit on the couch in my living room. Mary has the armchair and I’m on the floor. We’re surrounded by notes, laptops, and research books. Our trunk turned coffee table is brimming with Meriwether snacks.

“Any news from Elijah?” Mary asks.

“Just that he’s still looking.” I pause. “He’s looking, we’re looking. It’s late Sunday afternoon. You guys are going to have to go home soon. I think we need to do something differently. More direct.”

“Like another spell?” Mary asks.

“Our spells have mostly been backfiring on us,” Alice says.

I pause. “I think we need to talk to Redd.”

Mary looks surprised. “Redd?”

“You guys said she’s honest. And she clearly knew something was going to happen before we did. Even if she winds up telling us just some small detail, it would be worth it.”

“Interesting,” Susannah says.

Alice considers it. “Spirits were never Redd’s thing. She was a plant-and-potion type of witch. Buuut you’re right—she obviously knows something about this and was trying to warn us. I think it’s worth a shot.”

We make our way into the foyer just as the front door opens. My dad and Mrs. Meriwether come through with bags of groceries.

“You girls going somewhere?” my dad asks.

“Just into town for some fresh air,” Susannah says.

“You all deserve it. You’ve been dedicated to your homework all weekend,” Mrs. Meriwether says, nodding approvingly. “If you want to drop by Sugar Spells, write Georgia a note telling her I said you can have anything you want as a reward.”

“Thanks,” I say. “We might just do that.”

The door closes behind us, and we make our way to Mary’s Jeep.

“I’m not entirely sure I can handle the cuteness level in your house,” Alice says as we get in.

“I’ll try to tone it down for you. Cuteness just comes to me so naturally,” I say, and Mary giggles.

Alice turns on the engine, and we head toward town.

“Question, why do you always drive Mary’s Jeep?” I ask Alice.

“I actually don’t like to drive,” Mary says from the front seat. “Hate it.”

“I wish I had my own car,” Susannah says. “But with my little sister’s medical expenses these past few years, it just hasn’t been possible.”

Susannah told us in the fall that her sister’s cancer had come back unexpectedly. I always assumed it was Vivian’s fault. Guilt grips my stomach. Even now, people are still feeling the ramifications of what she did.

“And even though I do have a car,” Alice says, “it’s a sports car—”

“You and a sports car are an evil combination,” Mary says.

Alice rolls her eyes. “My mother got it for me. It’s a two-seater, which obviously is impossible because the three of us—scratch that, the four of us—are always together.”

Alice jerks to a stop and we all get out. The street that Redd’s store is on is bursting with Sunday shoppers. Families are eating at outdoor cafés, and visitors are taking guided tours. A few of the locals watch us, but most of the tourists don’t give us a second look. To them our black clothes are just in the spirit of the town.

Susannah stops two stores away from Redd’s. “Those are pretty,” she says, pointing at black handcrafted candles in a window. We all stop and pretend to be interested.

Alice nudges Mary, and she walks off. We comment on the window display for another thirty seconds, blending in with all the other weekend shoppers. In my peripheral vision I see Mary pull a small vial out of her pocket, drop some liquid in Redd’s keyhole, and push the door open.

Alice scans the street like a sharpshooter. “Now.”

We walk toward Mary, slip inside the door, and close it behind us. The room’s as disorienting and dark as it was before.

“Now what, Sam?” Mary whispers.

“Last time, I found a wall and followed it to a hallway,” I whisper back.

“Last time, you were invited,” says a voice, and light bursts through a parted curtain.

Redd looks particularly intimidating backlit. The girls tense next to me.

“I’m sorry. We—” I say.

“I don’t want to hear ‘sorry.’ You’re not sorry.”

We all stand silently. Even ballsy Alice doesn’t attempt to talk our way in.

Redd scowls disapprovingly. “Well, are you coming or not?”

I walk toward her. As soon as I reach the curtain, she moves away from it and the cloth hits me in the face. The girls follow me into the round room, with its black velvet curtains, wrought-iron candelabras, and multicolored rugs.

Redd sits on a pillow next to the table and fills five small cups from an old teapot.

“You were expecting us?” Mary asks, looking at the cups.

“Do not confuse the fact that I knew you were coming with the idea that I am happy to see you.” Redd looks at me. “I told you I didn’t want to be involved. I thought I made it clear.”

“I know. I’m…” She doesn’t want an apology. “There was no one else we could go to and we need help.”

“I’m not in the business of helping anymore. I helped this town for years. I’m sure they told you.” Redd gestures at the girls.

“You had a store with herbal creams and tonics. My mom always said they were amazing,” Susannah says, her hands neatly folded on her black high-waisted skirt.

Redd lifts her chin in the air. “They were the best. People came to me with their sore backs and their headaches, their hair loss and their skin problems. I helped them all.” She puts down the teapot and frowns. “But all they did was bicker and complain. Couldn’t recognize a good thing when they had it. Drink your tea.” She gestures toward the cups like she’s swatting a fly. We each take one.

“What if we told you that we didn’t need you to get involved, but just wanted you to point us in the right direction?” Mary asks, and lifts her teacup.

“Not a chance. Not since that fiasco in the woods last fall. And not with you four walking around broadcasting your business to the world. You’re a freight train headed for a brick wall that I have the good sense not to board.”

How much does she know about what happened in the woods?

“I’m very careful about my information. I—” Alice’s tone is defensive.

Redd raises her hand. “Your protection spells are mediocre at best.”

I sip my tea. Honey-lemon-ginger, I think. “Why did you warn me last week?”

Redd sits up a little straighter, and her bracelets clink together. “Because of your general incompetence. Which was very nice of me, if I do say so myself. And more than I should’ve done.”

“No one warns someone because they’re incompetent, unless they actually mean to help,” Alice says.

Redd looks pointedly at Alice.

“What if we—” Mary starts.

“Don’t try to bargain with me. You think you’re the first people to show up on my doorstep asking for something?” Redd laughs. “For years, people showed up almost every day. I’ll tell you what I told them: no. I think you’ve stayed quite long enough.”

I put down my cup. I’m not leaving until I’ve said my piece. “We think someone may have put a spell on the spirits of Titanic passengers. And last night we unknowingly helped that person trap one of the passengers. What’s more, when I sleep, I’m able to go there—to the Titanic. It’s as if the whole ship has some sort of time amnesia.”

Redd’s eyes narrow, but she doesn’t tell me to shut up.

“You warned us. And that was nice of you,” I say. “But if you know something we don’t and you don’t tell us, you will be helping this person get away with whatever it is they’re doing. And that means the ‘death’ you talked about will be partially on you.”

“It most certainly will not….How can you…You are rotten children for trying to guilt me like this,” she says, and drums her fingers on the table. Her jewelry clinks in rhythm. Her expression morphs from one emotion to another, like she’s arguing with herself. “Fine.” She smacks the table, rattling our cups. Susannah flinches. “I will help you this one time, but after that you don’t bother me again. Ever. Agreed?”

We all nod our heads, and I hide my smile. She’s cranky and a seriously odd duck, but she isn’t a bad person.

“Many years ago, when I was a small girl, there was talk of a warlock who saw spirits like you do.” Redd looks at me. “He was a dark sort. There were whispers he was trapping and collecting the spirits for some purpose. But no one knew who the spirits were or why he was doing it.”

“Do you remember his name?” Susannah asks.

“Never knew it,” Redd says. “And if others knew, they were careful not to say it. They called him the Collector.”

“Did anyone try to find out what he was doing?” I ask.

“A few people did.” Redd frowns.

“What happened to them?” Mary asks.

“They died,” Redd says, and sips her tea.

Alice and I look at each other.

“And where is this guy now?” Alice asks.

“Long dead. He moved away when I was still a girl, and I heard he died shortly after.”

“So if he’s dead, then why wouldn’t you want to help us?” Mary asks. “It’s not like he can hurt you anymore.”

Redd glares at her. “My tea leaves are never wrong. I’ve read them every morning for the past forty years. And I’m telling you that they showed him to me again, the Collector, or someone like him. That is all I know.”

“Do you think this Collector you’re sensing is here in Salem?” Susannah asks.

Redd grunts. “If I knew that, I would tell you and save myself this headache.” She gestures toward us. “My leaves tell me what they choose to and nothing more. You cannot force these things.”

“There is a dress,” Susannah says, “that transported Samantha to the ship the first time. We think there’s a spell on it. If we brought it to you, could you help us break it?”

“Not without knowing who the caster is and what kind of magic they’re using. Now, it really is time for you to go.” Redd stands and we do, too. I can tell by her voice that she’s not going to tell us anything else.

“Thanks,” I say, but she waves away my words.

“That way.” Redd points to one of the chest-high candelabras on my left. “And girls, don’t ever try to break into one of my doors again or I will polka-dot your skin for a year. Do we understand each other?”

“Perfectly,” Mary says in a higher pitch than normal.