Page 98 of A Ghost’s Guide to Haunting a Witch

Her sister was exactly where she expected her to be — behind a pristine desk, dressed immaculately in a tailored suit, every inch the composed, capable professional she presented to the world for eight hours a day. She looked like she belonged here. Like she fit in this sharp-edged, polished world in a way Augustine never quite had.

She looked — almost disarmingly — like their mother, and Augustine faltered.

The memory came to her all at once, soft and vivid in contrast to the sterile brightness of the office. Eglantine, propped up in bed, glowing with exhaustion and joy. The room was warm, dim, and alive with something older than anything in Canary Wharf. Augustine and her sisters were ushered in, half-curious, half-awed, to be shown a tiny, wrinkled baby wrapped in an old blanket.

“This is Madeline,” their mother said gently. “Your new sister. Both by blood and by coven.”

She’d pointed to each of them in turn.

“A south corner, to go with your east,” she’d said to Celeste. “Your west,” to Augustine. “And your north,” she’d added, reaching out to tap a giggling toddler Clem on the nose.

Then, more seriously, more firmly, “You must take care of each other. Now and forever. You are sisters first and foremost. In perfect love and perfect trust, following fortune on the wind, go where the coven goes.”

Augustine could still remember it with startling clarity. She’d only been a child, but still recited the phrase she’d known all her life with complete, unquestioning solemnity. “Blessed be.”

Eglantine had smiled then, with an air of quiet satisfaction that something ancient had settled into place, old ways carried forward, and her part in them complete.

The memory faded, and for a split second, Augustine just stood there, staring at Maddy in her perfectly cut suit, and everything felt . . . normal.

Impossible, but normal.

Maddy wouldn’t do this, she told herself instinctively. She wouldn’t. It’s Maddy. Our baby. Our south. We protect each other. We don’t tear each other apart.

Then Maddy looked up. “Ags?” She was on her feet immediately, concern flashing her face as she hurried around the desk. “They said it was an emergency. What’s wrong? Are you okay? Celeste? It isn’t Clem?” A shadow crossed her face as her voice lowered. “A witch hunter hasn’t—?”

Augustine shook her head, cutting Maddy off. “No.”

Maddy slowed, confusion replacing urgency. “Then what’s going on? Do you want to get lunch with me or something?”

All at once, the past rose before Augustine’s eyes. Her childhood home, four sisters within, together as they were meant to be. The memory was warm and familiar and Augustine felt so utterly certain inside of it. Here, there was an unshakable belief that this — this — was her safe place. That Maddy was someone who would always stand beside her, no matter what. Sisters first and foremost, blessed be.

Then Theo came to her mind, and Augustine remembered the way he’d looked at her. The way he’d held her. The way he’d said I’m choosing you. The last flicker of her hesitation burned away and was replaced by something much colder.

Augustine loved Theo. She knew that now. She utterly loved him, and always would love him, and no spell, no matter how perfectly cast, could take that away from her. She would find her way back to him, and he to her, no matter what.

No matter who, she told herself, and she fixed her gaze on Maddy, all uncertainty stripped away. Whatever this was — whatever her sister had or hadn’t done — Augustine was going to find out. No matter what bonds or vows it broke between them.

“Why did you do it?” Augustine asked, the words cutting cleanly through the room.

Maddy paused, but said nothing. There was no surprise in her face. No confusion.

She knows, Augustine realized painfully, reading her sister’s carefully controlled expression. She knows exactly why I’m here.

“Do what?” Maddy asked slowly, but her voice was oddly empty. Entirely devoid of her real tone and personality.

Augustine held her gaze, her own expression cold now, steady in a way that surprised even her. “What do you think?”

There was a beat. Maddy’s gaze flicked around the room, quick and instinctive, checking for something maybe — or someone. Then she took a few measured steps before pushing her office door shut. “This is about Theo, isn’t it?” Her tone had changed again, and it was now entirely stripped of warmth, empty in a way that made Augustine’s stomach ache painfully.

“Why did you do it?” Augustine asked again, her voice quieter now, but no less sharp. “Why, Maddy?” A small, broken breath. “Why?”

Maddy didn’t answer straight away. Instead, she looked at Augustine. Really looked at her, and something in her expression shifted — softening, not into guilt, not entirely, but into something far worse: love, pity, and sympathy.

Augustine’s breath caught as Maddy exhaled slowly, like this was a moment she’d been bracing for, and perched on the edge of a nearby table, her hands braced lightly against it.

It was such a small, ordinary movement, but it hit Augustine like a blow, because suddenly she wasn’t there any more. She was home, in their old dining room, warm and cluttered, sunlight spilling through the windows. Her mother’s cat was hissing at something out the window, while Maddy — small, bright, and laughing — was sitting on the table exactly like that, swinging her legs back and forth as Eglantine told her to get down. The youngest of them all. The baby. The one they’d all circled around without thinking, protecting, indulging, and always, without fail, entirely loving.

Our south.