‘You don’t know what really happened in 1820.’
Pain etched itself deeply into Ashley’s face as the moss and vines that had wrapped around her legs began to wither and crack. Crawling over to her, I held my hands over the plants and tried to bring them back but it was too late. They were already gone, all their healing power spent.
‘Then tell me what did,’ I said as she clenched her teeth against the growing agony.
‘First I need you to do something,’ she croaked. ‘Go to Catherine’s craft room. Inside, you’ll find a sunflower. Bring it out here.’
I didn’t argue. I ran out the room and down the hall, Ashley’s moans echoing louder once I was gone. Skidding to a halt in front of the sky-blue door, I reached for the handle ready for the burn but today it wasn’t even hot. Today it sang, filling me with light as I turned it and entered the room.
The whole space thrummed with energy and as I crossed the threshold, a dozen candles sparked into life. No wonder I couldn’t sense Catherine when she was in here, the room was spelled with more charms and curses than I could name. But there was no time to investigate properly, that would have towait. Instead I scanned the shelves and tables for Ashley’s sunflower, forcing myself not to reach for every fascinating thing; journals, spell books, crushed herbs, dozens of different crystals and gems of every possible shape and size. Tucked away in one corner was a narrow bed, a thin mattress studded with herbs, feathers and more crystals. I picked up one of the feathers and held it to the light. Black with red and yellow patches, with rusty stains on the shaft. I dropped it right away. These weren’t feathers Catherine had found on the ground.
The sunflower sat on a high shelf above the door, the last place anyone would look, its petals withered and pale from too many days locked away in this dark place. Clambering up onto the nearest desk, I strained to reach it, stretching as far as I dared until my fingertips brushed the terracotta pot. As I made one more push to get a proper hold on it, the sunflower began to bloom and one of the brackets that held up its shelf fell away from the wall. The flower slid down, straight into my arms.
‘Thank you,’ I said as I climbed back down to the floor, picked up the bracket and placed it on the desk before backing slowly out of the room. It was the first time I’d gone inside. It wouldn’t be the last.
‘You found it,’ Ashley said, unable to hide her surprise when I returned. ‘The room let you in.’
‘Did you think it might not?’ I asked as I pressed the sad sunflower into her open arms.
‘Honestly, kind of thought it might unalive you. But yay.’
I glared at my aunt as she turned the pot around in her hands, the petals and leaves of the sunflower growing stronger and brighter every second it was with her.
‘Bell House is not a regular house,’ she explained as if that wasn’t already very obvious. ‘If it let you into Catherine’s secretlittle room, well, that changes things. You are part of the house and it is part of you. When the Bell witches are strong, Bell House is strong, when the line is weakened, things begin to fall apart. Literally. That’s why you can’t go up to the third floor. I’d bet my bottom dollar it’ll be as safe as the day is long if your Becoming goes off without a hitch.’
She paused to give me a look. ‘Which it won’t.’
‘What about the sunflower?’ I asked, my hand reaching out for the wall without even realizing. She was right. The house was buzzing with energy and urgently calling my name. We were both running out of time.
‘This sunflower is me,’ she said lightly. ‘This is what ties me to Catherine.’
Without taking a single second to explain further, she raised the plant above her head and hurled it at the ground. The terracotta pot smashed into a million tiny pieces, damp black earth soiling the pale wool rug, and the sunflower lay limp in the debris.
‘And now that tie is broken.’
‘How do you feel?’ I asked as we watched it wither and decay in front of us, shrivelling away until it was just dust.
‘Like I got crushed by a beam and had my bones and organs put back together by magic. Thanks for that, by the way.’
‘You’re welcome?’
She picked up a piece of the terracotta pot and smiled, another year of misery rolling away with each heartbeat.
‘We don’t have much time,’ I said, looking first at the clock and then at the fading light that streamed in through the window. ‘I don’t want to hurt anyone. You have to tell me what really happened in 1820.’
‘Every Bell witch is connected, you all draw from those who came before you,’ my aunt replied. There was something new in her voice, something I hadn’t heard before. It soundeddangerously like hope. ‘After you Become, you’ll be able to access all the strength and knowledge of our ancestors, dead and alive, but that’s not all. Should you choose, you will be able to drain Catherine of her magic. That’s what happened in 1820.’
‘Catherine said that witch was crazy and her sisters had to bind her.’
Ashley grunted out a laugh.
‘Angry woman gets called insane? Wow, what a plot twist. Elizabeth Howell wasn’t crazy, she was furious. Witches used to tie the younger generation to their home as a matter of course, to protect them until they came of age, and this girl took offence. Tying isn’t the same as binding, it doesn’t change a person, just restricts them, like one of those invisible fences they put up to keep dogs in? For me, it means I can’t leave the vicinity of Bell House. For others, it might limit their magic, who they can speak to or what they can say. Elizabeth didn’t want to be a witch or treated like a dog. She didn’t want to live a tethered life. Once her Becoming ceremony was complete, she drained her grandmother and tried to escape but it was too much, she couldn’t control all that magic and it overwhelmed her. She killed her grandmother, then set fire to the city and herself. There was no binding, they didn’t even get a chance to try it. It’s a miracle Emma Catherine, her one so-called friend, survived to continue our line. You and I shouldn’t even be here, our family line should have ended that day like the rest of the witch families who died in the fire.’
There was no need to fact check, we had both run out of reasons to lie.
‘I don’t know what Catherine’s planning but I do know she’s not going to let you take her magic away. She is not happy with you at all. There’s no telling how far she’ll go now.’
‘But she won’t hurt me,’ I reasoned. ‘She can’t risk losing her magic if I die.’
