I let out a sharp breath as the chill from the ice pack began to seep into my bones. “Toobad the elements don’t care about character.”Ilooked around. “I’mjust trying to make it sellable.Getall the shit out and clean it up.”Witha sigh,Iadded, “ButIkind of hate the thought of some rental company snatching it up and making it a big, white minimalist box.”
“You know what it needs,”Willowsaid as she settled into the chair across from me. “Pictureframe molding.Darkcolors.There’sso much light from the windows in the front and the balcony facing the ocean.Itwould almost be too bright if you did the usual beach colors.”
“Something moody,”Whitneysaid as she trailed her fingers along the bricks. “Especiallywith the hardwood floors and the brick fireplace.Whocares if it doesn’t look like a beach mood board?Thehouse deserves better than mermaid statues.”
A laugh slipped asIclosed my eyes. “Maybein another lifetime.IfIwere keeping it for myself, sure.Butthe buyer probably won’t have the same taste.”
“Fuck the buyer,”Willowsaid. “Itneeds built-in bookshelves filled to the brim.Anda bar cart.Definitelya bar cart.”
“I’m not buying a bar cart.ThemoreIspend on the renovation, the moreIhave to pay back out of the profit.Besides, the bar cart wouldn’t stay in the sale.Itwould have to go with me.AndI’mnot driving one all the way back toColorado.I’mpretty sure a bar cart is bigger than my car.”
Whitney let out a curious hum as the sound of stone scraping against stone filled the room.
“If you break it, you have to fix it,”Imuttered asIclosed my eyes.
“I didn’t break it.Itwas already broken,”Whitneysaid. “Thisbrick has anAon it.”
I whipped around. “Whatdid you say?”
Whitney was wiggling the loose brick straight out of the fireplace. “There’sa cursiveAstamped into the clay and it feels really light.”
Willow jumped up and peered overWhitney’sshoulder as the brick slid free. “Holyshit,Wander.Thishouse is awesome.”
“Is there a letter in it?”Iasked asIeased off the couch.
“Why would there be a letter in it?”Whitneyasked as she turned it over. “Istand corrected.There’sa letter.SoeitherWanderis psychic, or she knew this was here.”
“I’m going with psychic,”Willowsaid.
“Nope.”Iheaved off the couch and hobbled over. “Wefound one in the floorboards.Apiece of the flooring was branded with the letter ‘A.’”
With nimble fingers,Whitneycarefully removed the folded piece of paper from the hollowed-out brick. “Whois ‘we?’” she asked as she handed the letter to me.
“Jack was over here,”Igrumbled.
Willow’s eyebrows lifted like she was watching otters mate for life or something. “Awwww.Ourgirl’s all grown up and solving mysteries with her hunky neighbor.”
I rolled my eyes. “Nomysteries.Nohunk.Justpieces of trash and a really annoying jackass.”
The three of us huddled around the decrepit paper asIheld it out for us to read.
“Rowena, my darling.Youhave the gift of prophecy.Notof telling fortunes or divination, but of shrewd judgment, sapience, insightfulness, and prudence.Yourmind is clear like the night sky, but your tongue is sharp like the swords of the knights ofKingWilliamIII.
“With prophecy comes the burden of discernment.Small-minded, self-serving creatures jump at the chance to burn prophets at the stake.Theyincite riots with ludicrous claims of heresy, masking the truth of the prophet’s claims.Theaccuser’s self-serving desire for control supersedes the duty of upholding what is good and right.Often, those boisterous, empty words are enough to draw the masses to action.
“You must take care to choose between the right words and the right time.Rarelycan you afford the luxury of both.Mydarling, the villains often win the battle.Donot lose hope.Thoughit is unpleasant,Iwould be remiss ifIdid not forewarn you.Therumors of the trials inSalemare true.Prophetsand judges cannot carry out their prudent duty if they no longer have breath in their lungs.Thetime has come to move in silence.Forcesmust gather and grow strong for the next campaign.Thewar is far from over.”
I remembered his words so acutely.Theyfloated in my mind both day and night.Ifeared the professorIlonged for in the most carnal ways was right.
Surely, he was right.Hewas always right.
If anyone were to take credit for my gift, it was him.
I should have been preparing to go into hiding, but not if he would not be there to hide with me.Forwhat good is half of a heart?
“Holy shit,”Willowwhispered. “Wasyour great-aunt a witch?”
“No,”Isaid asIbarked out a laugh. “Shesent weird birthday cards sometimes, but definitely not a witch.Besides, the house isn’t as old as theSalemWitchTrials.”
