Suddenly, Beatrix heard the familiar sound of a book slipping from the shelf, and instinctively, her hands reached forward to grasp whatever was about to fall to the floor.
With a start, she looked down and saw that she was holding a battered blue book. Turning it over, Beatrix noticed that the spine was held together by the barest threads, and the cloth was worn about the corners in the way it always is after being held too many times.
Before Beatrix could think of what she was doing, her fingers were lifting the cover and flipping through the pages. It was a collection of fairy tales, she realized, so similar to the one that she and her sisters had read as young girls that it felt like the years were falling away with every chapter she turned.
Once she reached the middle of the book, Beatrix noticed that one of the pages had been roughly bent at the corner, as if someone had marked their favorite story so often that the fold was about to rip apart. A simple sketch of a raven was perched just beneath the chapter number, peering at Beatrix with a knowing expression that suggested the creature had something to say.
Skimming the first lines, Beatrix realized that it was a tale she’d read before, one about a sister whose brothers had been cursed to turn into a flock of birds.
Wondering why the book’s owner had been so interested in this particular tale, Beatrix shook her head and flipped to the very last page, knowing that a familiar phrase awaited her there.
But, to her confusion,The Endhad been crossed through with pen and ink.
And beneath that, Beatrix saw that a new message had been added. . . .
A good story has no end.
When Beatrix’s eyes drifted over the words, a sudden sensation of relief poured into her veins, melting the ice that had started to grip her heart long before the first snowfall. And as she read the sentence again and again, the pain fell away like chunks of sleet exposed to morning sunshine.
How would it feel to fill the silence with words that weren’t her own? Let the story beneath her fingertips pull her away from the present and toward possibilities that made her remember what it felt like to seek out a sense of wonder?
Instead of setting the book back on the shelf, Beatrix found herself wandering toward the wingback chair at the front of the shop, where the sun was now spilling through the glass so that the black ink was practically shimmering beneath the light.
It wasn’t long before the feeling of the cushions disappeared entirely and her thoughts had traveled far, far away from the shop, the troubles that had held her tight fading as she gradually returned to the girl who’d spent entire afternoons between the pages of a book in the attic.
Lost in the rhythm of the words, Beatrix didn’t even notice when the tattered wallpaper behind her started to piece itself together or the way some of the dust that had settled along the surface of the windows seemed to vanish of its own accord, chasing away the shadows between the shelves.
She wasn’t even aware of the barely perceptible curve that was just beginning to appear in the groove between her thumb and forefinger: the barest hint of a letter rising up along the lines of her skin.
CHAPTER 23
A Violin
Appears just before hidden emotions rise to the surface.
Before Anne turned the corner that would lead her to the Crowley manor, she paused on the sidewalk and let the snow drifting down in sheets gather along the curve of her shoulders. Anne’s magic seemed to sense her hesitation and grew stronger, warming the tips of her fingers and toes in the places they’d grown numb during her walk from the shop. It reminded her of when she’d bound herself to keep her power from unraveling, how the spark that had been lit aflame couldn’t be contained by the threads, no matter how often she tied the knots.
Anne hadn’t realized just how tightly she’d still been holding on to her magic since the day she’d let those black ribbons slither to the floor. It had felt so surreal, the rush of potential and an opening of a whole new world, that she’d failed to notice she was only allowing herself to become untethered a single inch at a time.
There was so much more she was responsible for now, and Anne couldn’t risk the consequences if she lost control, even if it meant holding back a part of herself that longed to burst free. She’d intended to unfurl her power slowly so that any trouble could be quickly managed, as one does when gently pulling a string of yarn from the center of its skein to avoid creating any snags.
But she didn’t have a choice now, it seemed.
Drawing in a frosty breath that heightened her awareness, Anne could feel a sense of loneliness rippling beneath her resolve. She always needed to present a version of herself to the coven that was as untouchable as the tip of a pin. And though Anne could share all the emotions that simmered beneath that steady surface with her sisters, she knew they’d never be able to fully realize what she was experiencing. Just as she could hear Violet explain what it felt like to fly across the circus tent or listen to Beatrix describe the satisfaction of tacking a period at the end of a wellcrafted sentence and fail to grasp the depth of meaning that these sensations held for them.
As Anne was starting to realize, there are some things that can only be understood by those who need no words at all.
But she’d already lingered long enough in the present moment, where hidden truths have the best chance of coming to light, and needed to return her focus to the demands of the future.
Sighing, Anne opened her eyes once more and marched toward the manor, her pace becoming more determined with every step.
As her hand reached toward the knocker, the door started to creep open, but this time, instead of the empty corridor, Anne was met by the sight of Vincent’s stern face.
They stared at one another silently for a moment, the bitterness of their last parting still as fresh as it had been the night before.
But then Anne began to shiver, and the hard lines of Vincent’s face softened the barest fraction before he shifted backward, opening the door wider in invitation. When she took that first step over the threshold, Anne saw some of the stiffness in his shoulders ease, as if he was relieved to have her back despite the strain that still lingered between them.
“You knew I was here?” Anne asked as she instinctively began to tug off her heavy woolen coat.
