The room seemed to sway around me and I rested one hand on her bed to steady myself.
‘I’m fine,’ I said. It was a lie and not a convincing one. ‘I have to keep going.’
She clucked her tongue dismissively.
‘Last time I checked, it’s a good idea to stay sharp when there’s an apocalypse scheduled.’
‘But that’s half the problem – it isn’t scheduled. We don’t know when it’s coming, only that it is.’ Gnawing on the edge of my thumbnail, I pressed my ten toes into her floorboards, connecting with the house. ‘I don’t want to put anyone in danger,’ I whispered. ‘Not again.’
The words were barely out my mouth when Ashley pulled me into a hug, squeezing me tighter when I instinctively flinched.
‘Youweren’t the one who put us in danger,’ she said, sounding frustrated and empathetic in equal measure. ‘You can’t blame yourself for Catherine’s actions, Emily. None of it was your fault.’
‘If I hadn’t come to Savannah, none of this would’ve happened.’
‘And if a frog had wings, he wouldn’t bump his ass when he hopped.’
She released the hug and I replaced her arms with my own, wrapping them tightly around myself.
‘You can’t say that every time you want to get out of a difficult conversation,’ I told her, smiling in spite of myself.
‘Watch me. Hey, before you go.’ Reaching into the pile of new clothes, she produced a pair of white jeans and a tiny hot pink tube top, holding them up for my approval. ‘What do you think? Does this work for an evening of octogenarian company?’
‘Only if you’re planning to give Mr Chisholm a heart attack.’
Across the room, she considered the potential outfit in her freestanding mirror.
‘That would probably get me home in time to enjoy some barbecue.’
‘I’d laugh if I thought you were joking,’ I said, rummaging in the pile and tossing her a black and white striped T-shirt instead. ‘Ribs can wait until tomorrow and Mr Chisholm lives to see another day.’
Most of the walls of Bell House were covered with exquisite hand-painted silk wallpaper, every room setting a different scene. The parlour reminded me of Forsyth Park with its grand old oaks, while my bedroom felt more like the little park outside my window, birds and squirrels playing hide and seek among the eternally flowering azaleas, but entering the upstairs hallway was like losing yourself in Georgia’s marshlands. Tall grasses swayed softly and dozens of tiny critters darted in and out among the reeds, all day and all night. When I left Ashley to change, ranting to herself about meeting agendas and historic landmark by-laws, the gentle breeze that always blew through, no matter the weather outside, had become a bitter wind, and an unexpected chill picked its way down my spine. There wasn’t so much as a periwinkle snail to be seen. Even the cordgrassseemed to pull away from me. I pressed my hand against the wall but it trembled under my palm. Something was off and the house wanted me to know.
There were only three rooms on the second floor: mine, Ashley’s and, at the end of the hall, Catherine’s, which had been sealed shut ever since she failed to return home after my Becoming. Sealed not by magic but by choice. Neither Ashley nor myself had any interest in stepping foot inside. Beyond my grandmother’s room, the staircase looped around, climbing up to the third floor of Bell House. Catherine had forbidden me to go up there. It was dangerous, she said, structurally unsound. But how could I trust anything she’d told me? Whatever had sent the marshland creatures scrambling had nothing to do with an unsafe roofing situation.
Without realizing I’d moved, I found myself at the foot of the stairs. The midnight blue ceiling was directly above me, so dense it looked like velvet with every constellation picked out in silver paint. Beneath my feet, brass runners held down a lush maroon carpet that led up the stairs to an ornately carved mahogany door. My parents’ old rooms. The rooms where I’d spent the first months of my life. For four long weeks, I’d almost forgotten about it. Too much going on to worry about attic rooms full of lost memories. But now …
A sudden beating of wings broke through the quiet and I spun around to see a stork rising from the marshes, taking to the air on the wall behind me and flying into nothingness. With one last glance upstairs, I turned and sprinted back along the hallway and all the way down the stairs to the ground floor.
Hanging on the banister, panting, I looked up at the midnight fresco above me. With my grandmother gone, the house belonged to me, the sole surviving Bell witch. There was literally nothing to stop me walking right back up there, opening the door to the third floor and finding out what secrets lay inside for myself.
But I didn’t. I couldn’t. I literally could not move. My feet were glued to the ground and I wasn’t holding onto the banister anymore, the banister was holding onto me. It was only when I let go of the notion to visit the third floor that Bell House released me, allowing me back into the parlour to work on my orchid.
It wasn’t Catherine who didn’t want me up there after all.
It was the house.
Chapter Two
Before he died, my dad and I travelled all the time. In sixteen years, I’d lived in more than a dozen countries, unpacking my single suitcase everywhere from exciting, overcrowded cities to sleepy little villages where our nearest neighbours were sheep. I’d always found something to love about the place we lived, but there was nowhere on earth quite like Savannah.
After waving Ashley off to her meeting, I stayed outside, lounging on the front steps until the fuzzy humidity of the early evening swallowed me whole. I’d thought it was hot when I arrived back in May. Then June came and I realized we were just starting. Now, the oppressive July temperatures made my memories of May seem practically arctic. The air was so thick it felt like a tangible thing, something I could take hold of and wrap around myself like a blanket. Too close, too sweaty, and absolutely perfect. Every day, I felt closer to my magic and, as our connection grew stronger, I became more attuned to the harmony of the natural world. This weather wasn’t exactly pleasant, but it was exactly as it should be and when Mother Nature was happy, I was happy. She adored the scorching days and sweaty nights. The people of Savannah? Not so much.
Settling on the sun-warm stone steps, I wrapped my arms around my shins and rested my chin on my knees, watching as my city passed by. People walking their dogs, others taking their nightly stroll, the masochistic runners attempting a not-so-speedy jog, all passed through Lafayette Square, and I liked to daydream about where they were going. Down to River Street to watch the enormous container ships pass under Talmadge Bridge? Up to the park to lap the fountain? Or maybe they had nowhere in particular to be. Wandering aimlessly around the city used to be one of my favourite things to do. I loved getting lost in the historic district, zigzagging around Savannah’s squares, studying the beautiful old houses and dodging the tourist-laden horse-drawn carriages, before inevitably ending up at Leopold’s Ice Cream Parlour for a double scoop of caramel swirl and butter pecan. Lately, I’d found myself sticking closer to Bell House. Or to be more accurate, I did not leave. Ever since my birthday, I hadn’t been in the mood to do much of anything but sit in my room and stare out the window. Even making it out as far as the front steps felt like an achievement. But when I stayed home, Savannah stayed safe. Seemed like a fair trade to me.
The sweltering weather didn’t let up as evening approached. We still had another good couple of hours of daylight, the sunset a long way off, but when I turned my gaze to the sky, the moon was already peeking out from behind the spire of the cathedral, a pale shadow of itself, almost transparent against the fading blue. Four weeks since the last full moon. I couldn’t help but wonder what this one would bring.
My fingertips tingled as I traced abstract shapes on the ground beside me and pictured Wyn, somewhere out there, waiting to phase. As much as it hurt, the radio silence between us wasn’t unexpected. Before he went quiet he told me his mother and his grandfather, both senior members of his pack,were taking him out of town to some sort of secret Were camp, and I could tell from the tone of his voice they weren’t going to be making s’mores and singing around the campfire. No phones, no computers, no communication with the outside world whatsoever. Only, Wyn’s mom and grandpa hadn’t reckoned on the fact I didn’t need a strong WiFi connection to check on my love.
