It tookseveral minutes to figure out how to safely secure the flowers into the basket on my bike, but I managed it. Downtown was as busy as ever, but I barely paid any attention to the crowds, except to make sure I didn’t ride right into someone—my mind was too busy trying to decide what the hell I was going to say. I was suddenly struck with the awful notion that I might be confronted with the entire Claire coven when I arrived at the Manor—after all, that’s what families did in the wake of a tragedy. They gathered together. The thought was enough to make me want to turn around, but I kept pedaling determinedly forward. Therewere more important things at stake than weathering a bit of embarrassment.
Luckily, when I pulled down the slope to the Manor’s long drive, there was only one car in the driveway, and that was Nova’s. I leaned my bike against the fence, and made my way to the front door with the pitcher of flowers, balancing it awkwardly in one arm so that I could knock on the door. A minute or so later, Nova answered it. My heart sank when I saw her red-rimmed eyes and pink nose above her pajamas.
“Hey,” I said.
“Hey.”
“I, um… I’m so sorry about Bernadette,” I said, feeling my own throat get tight. “My family wanted me to bring these over.”
“Thanks,” Nova said tonelessly. “Come on in and we can put it with the others.”
She turned and walked down the hallway, and I hurried to close the door behind me and follow her. She led me into the family’s sitting room, where a half dozen other floral arrangements were already adorning the surfaces. I placed ours carefully on a small end table by the window, and turned to join Nova on the sofa.
“Where is everyone?” I asked. “I thought the house might be full of people.”
“It will be by tonight,” Nova said, picking at a crumpled tissue she had balled up in her hand. “All the Claires will be here for a vigil. But for right now, my mom and everyone are down at Blackleach and Graves making arrangements.”
“How… how are you?” I asked. It felt like pulling the pin from a grenade, asking that question to Nova Claire, but she surprised me. Rather than blowing me off or snapping at me, she just stared out the window.
“I don’t know. I feel kind of numb,” she said. “Which is weird, because Bernadette really has been gone a while now, but… I guess maybe a part of me was still hoping we’d figure out how to fix her. Which is obviously stupid, but…” She shrugged.
“It’s not stupid,” I said. “I think that’s a natural part of mourningsomeone who’s technically still here.” I thought about my friend Poe and herlola, who was starting to slip away from dementia. She was still there, living in Poe’s house, and yet she was already gone.
“Yeah, well. At least we can move on now,” Nova said, still not looking at me. “Put all of that shit with Sarah’s ghost behind us.”
The mention of Sarah was like an invitation for me to pivot the conversation, and I took it, my heart knocking against my ribs like a fist against a door. “That’s actually, uh… one of the reasons I stopped by.”
Nova turned to look at me, frowning her confusion. “What is?”
“Sarah Claire.”
Nova’s whole face tightened like a mask. “What about her?” she asked through unmoving lips.
I could tell I was close to losing my nerve, but I plunged forward anyway. “I, um… I went last night. To the Source. With Jess.”
Nova closed her eyes. “I’m pretty sure I told you I don’t want anything to do with this. Like seriously, Wren, I don’t even want to know what?—”
“She was right. Jess, I mean. The Source is one of those Gateways she was talking about.”
Nova’s eyes flew open, and she stared at me. “Be fucking serious.”
“I am. I promise. But there’s something wrong with it, Nova. It’s not working the way it’s supposed to, and it’s cut all the spirit witches off from their spirit guides.”
“Wren, just because you still suck at your spirit abilities doesn’t mean the Source is messed up. You can’t expect?—”
“It’s not just me. It’s every spirit witch in Sedgwick Cove. Xiomara has spoken to all of them. All their spirit guides have gone silent. Even Bea can’t draw them anymore.”
I watched the cracks form in Nova’s determination not to believe me. She bit at her lip, clearly trying to find a way to explain away what I was telling her.
“Persi caught us,” I continued, “and she already recognized Jess because of Bernadette.”
Nova stood up suddenly, dropping hertissue to the floor. “What the hell do you mean, because of Bernadette? What does Bernadette have to do with it?”
“She’s been… has anyone told you that she’s been drawing and painting in the hospital?” I asked.
A spasm of emotion crossed Nova’s face, and I knew her answer before she spoke it. “No. They told me she… that she wasn’t communicating, and that visitors were too upsetting.”
“Well, that was kind of true,” I said. “She hasn’t spoken at all or written anything down. But she has been communicating in her own way, with her art.”
