“You better see this, Ivy,” Caleb says.
I point a finger at Hazel.
“We’re not done talking about this. And you’re not a weirdo.”
She gives me a long look.
“Okay, well maybe you’re a weirdo, but you’re part of this family no matter what. And I have a feeling that whatever magic you have, you just haven’t figured out how to unlock it yet.”
I bend over and brush her curly hair off her forehead the way I used to when she was a baby. I give her a kiss right on top of her forehead.
The smile she gives me as I walk away is watery, and I give her a thumbs-up and pretend not to notice the hurt clear in her eyes.
We have to fix the town. I have to make sure we’re safe before I can do anything to help Hazel.
Besides, there’s one thing I’ve learned in my life.
You can’t fix people for them. They have to want to fix themselves.
The basement stairs are surprisingly sturdy. They don’t creak and moan like the rest of the house does as I walk down them.
The light itself is as close to sunshine indoors as I’ve ever seen. Golden orbs hang around the ceiling of the basement that wasn’t there more than five minutes ago.
Books line the walls along with all kinds of magical artifacts I’ve never seen anyone use. Stacks and stacks of tarot cards. Summoning boxes, some bound with rubber bands, others in velvet pouches, haphazardly scattered around.
And one in a container that looks like it’s made of bone.
I grimace when I see it. Bad vibes, that.
“Over here,” Rose says.
She’s standing in front of the wall along with the other two.
There’s a picture there.
Staring at it in black and white, though it hits me right away that that isn’t because the picture’s old. No. The picture is likely only twenty-five to thirty years old.
And the reason I know that is because I recognize the four people in it.
What I don’t recognize — not right away — is what they’re doing.
Icy cold fingers run up my spine. My stomach sinks as a memory of this very day photographed and hung in black and white on the secret basement wall washes over me.
“It’s the four of us,” Posey says, sounding more shocked than I’ve ever heard her.
“You hanging in there?” Caleb murmurs against my ear, one steady hand at the small of my back.
Goosebumps race across my skin and I swallow, my mouth gone dry.
“I remember this day,” I say.
The words come out breathy, uneven.
The three of them look away from the blown up photograph, showing the four of us girls making a square. Hazel clutches a stuffed rabbit with chewed whiskers, hand raised, mouth open,eyes glowing white, facing the camera. Posey and Rose stand across from each other, both hands raised, mouths open like their saying something. My back’s to the camera, but I know it’s me, I recognize the red grosgrain bow tied to the end of my braid and my favorite pair of tights. High waves crash against the jetty, froth frozen in time. Our hair’s blown back by the oncoming storm, and I swear I make out a familiar eye in the ocean.
“I don’t remember this at all,” Posey says.
“What does that say?” Rose, says, poking at unintelligible scrawl on the bottom of the photo.
