Page 22 of Potions & Prejudice
“This place is a wreck,” Auggie said, her upper lip curling in disgust as she stepped over a puddle of green slime.
In response, the cottage began shaking. I backed into the wall, plastering myself to it while Mama and Auggie clutched each other. Elm grabbed Adelaide’s hand, drawing her to his chest.
“She didn’t mean anything by it,” he said, looking up.
“Who are you talking to?” I asked as the shaking intensified. The doors rattled, and glasses and plates clinked from inside the cabinets.
“She just meant that you need a little cleaning, sprucing up,” Elm said.
The shaking slowed, and my gaze shifted back and forth. “Are you talking to the cottage?”
Adelaide shot Elm a questioning look.
“Yes,” he finally said. “It was spelled by the previous owner.”
“And where are they?” I asked.
“Dead. But, unfortunately, the spell didn’t die with them, and we can’t get rid of the house.”
“Because of the magic?” Adelaide guessed.
Elm nodded. “The witch who lived here was a little paranoid, some might say. So she spelled this house to be protective of her, to only accept her as its owner. Now that she’s gone, the cottage has become a little more...unhinged over the years. There’s been attempts to tear it down that haven’t... ended well for those involved.”
Auggie’s hand floated to her mouth, eyes wide in horror.
“The house has become a bit of a nuisance for Thistlegrove. Most ofthe residents live in this forest, and the house can be cantankerous. Making a lot of noise. Lashing out at those who come too close. Not to mention, it’s a bit unsightly.”
A floorboard rose up and thwacked Elm in the back of the knees. He winced, and Adelaide rubbed his arm soothingly.
“So you want us to live here?” I gestured around. “In the cottage that might kill us?”
“It won’t kill you,” Elm said quickly. “The witch did have the sense to weave that into her spell—no killing.”
“Oh, well that changes everything,” I said.
“Elspeth,” Mama hissed, then mouthed, “Be nice.”
“How are we supposed to live in a house that doesn’t like us?” I asked.
Elm stepped forward. “Well, it could. If you cleaned it up, returned it to its former glory, it might be more receptive to you? And I figured it would be better than a broken tent.”
Mama and Auggie looked at each other, and I bit the inside of my cheek when a scream pierced the air from somewhere on the second floor.
My head snapped in that direction. Prue. I’d completely forgotten about my youngest sister. She must’ve snuck away at some point.
“Prue?” Mama called. “Are you alright?”
Silence followed.
Elm moved toward the stairs, but I held out a hand. “I’ll go. Just stay with my sisters and Mama and keep them safe.”
“I can do that,” he said after a beat.
I raced toward the small flight of stairs on the right. A few were splintered and jutting upward, and I carefully picked my way over them.
Boots thudded against the stairs behind me. “I’m coming with you,” Adelaide said.
I tipped my head toward a hole in one of the steps. “Be careful.”
