As she says the wordclues, the pale pink journal sitting in her closet with Quinn’s name in it slithers into her thoughts. She feels a flutter of nerves.
“How about this,” Joey says. “You guys come with me to Tom’s. We’ll just see what he has to say about that night and ask about the book. Maybe he’ll let us check through any of Quinn’s old stuff he might have. If it’s a dead end, I’ll drop it.”
Elena looks up at the sky. “Still a terrible idea.”
Sophie takes Joey’s hand. It’s warm. She wishes it would bring back good memories from back then, and it does, but they are fleeting. “We’ll come.” She stares at Elena, and Elena glares back until, finally, she sighs dramatically. A concession. “But please,” Sophie says, turning back to Joey, “after this, promise me you’ll seriously consider talking to someone.”
“Deal,” says Joey.
Sophie sees the hawk again, this time diving into the trees with a ferocity and speed it didn’t have before. Something about this decision doesn’t feel quite right, but she can’t go back on it now.
18Joey
Tom’s house is tucked into the woods.
It’s deathly silent here, his old white truck nowhere in sight. The surrounding trees seem to be sick with trunk rot, their branches shrouded in caterpillar webbing. The front step is home to a sunken lawn chair and a littering of cigarette butts.
Joey unclicks her seat belt and lifts herself out of the car. Sophie follows, closing the door carefully behind her. Elena clomps out of the back seat in her combat boots.
Joey knocks on the front door. The sound is like three gunshots in the silent woods. On the third knock, the door slowly peels open. She and Sophie look at each other suddenly; then Joey leans in. The latch where the door should close is broken.
Joey is about to push it farther, but Sophie snaps a warning arm across her middle. She calls out, “Mr. Winter?” Her voice is too high, like they’re kids, and she’s asking if Quinn can come out to play. Joey’s hands have begun to sweat.
There is no answer from within, though they wait a minute in silence to make sure. Joey reaches out for the door again, and shejumps as Sophie’s hand lands on top of hers. “Don’t,” she says in a whisper.
“He’s obviously not here,” calls Elena from behind them, sounding impatient. Her shoes crunch on the uneven earth as she disappears around the corner of the house. There is no sign of him, but Joey knows that, if he’s out, it means he’s probably just stocking up on booze or frozen dinners and could be back any minute. They should hurry.
Joey ignores them both and uses her fingertips to push the door. It’s featherlight—probably made of plywood—and gives way easily.
“Joey!”
The shout comes from around the house, sending Joey’s heart into her mouth. It takes her a second to register that it’s Elena.
“Soph!” Elena shouts again, louder this time. Joey thunders down the two front steps and around the corner, imagining Tom is back there. Imagining Elena at knifepoint.
Soon she sees Elena forty yards away, at the edge of a down slope. She’s turned away from them, staring out at the woods. Tom is nowhere in sight.
“What is it?” Joey calls out as she runs toward her, feeling an itch at the back of her neck.
Sophie runs up alongside them, panting, and they follow Elena’s gaze out toward the woods. It’s getting dark, and there’s not much to see. But something catches Joey’s eye. It’s the glass house at the top of the hill in the distance. A long-abandoned ultra-eighties eyesore they dared each other to break into when they were young but never actually did. She didn’t realize it was visible from here.
“Did you know?” asks Elena, and Joey is confused.Know what?And then she turns to see that Elena is not pointing up the hill, but down.
Two hundred yards in the distance, the way the trees clear out in a wide opening—the woods take on a familiar shape.
The itch on the back of Joey’s neck suddenly feels like an insect burrowing under her skin.
Sophie gasps. “Look.” She doesn’t have to say anything else because Joey sees it now. It’s suddenly there, as if trees had been cleared just for this view.
Straight through the woods, hauntingly close, is a circle of rocks surrounded by a ring of aspen trees. Tom Winter has a clear view of the spell circle.
***
Minutes later, Elena shoves a shoulder into the back door, and it gives with a snapping sound that can’t be good. She tosses Joey a toothy grimace as if to say,“Oops.”
The smell of stale smoke hits Joey first. Then, it’s the faint dampness of mildew. Sawdust and dried mud crackle under her shoes as she steps into the kitchen. A skylight casts a murky glow from above, illuminating the scratched-up table in the center. On the table is an empty vodka bottle next to a shot glass, smudged from recent use. The tabletop is peppered with black crumbs, old ringed coffee cups, upturned fly carcasses. A sharp professional-grade kitchen knife gleams from the corner, the only clean dish Joey can see.
Back by the door, Joey spots the dustiest minifridge she has ever seen. She crouches down, careful not to touch the floor with her hands or knees. Just breathing the air in here makes her feel like she needs a shower.
