Page 40 of Witches of Honeysuckle House
“It’s more than caring about you,” Angela said, voice low.
Angela, who had driven her home when Honeysuckle House caught on fire. Angela, who had been at her side when Evie was all alone as a young mother. Angela, whose very presence lit Evie up inside. For years, Evie had done her best to ignore her growing feelings for the other woman—all for the sake of her sister. But if Florence couldn’t be there for Evie, then what reason did Evie have to stay away from Florence’s best friend?
Angela rubbed her thumb along the side of Evie’s hand. Then, she reached over and tilted Evie’s chin toward her. Evie’s eyes drifted up until they locked on hers.
“Aren’t you afraid of the curse?” Evie whispered. “That if I … if we …”
“Terrified.” Angela pressed a hand to her chest, and the fear in her eyes made Evie want to rage or weep or scream. This was why her sister had kept everyone at arm’s length. Because every person she loved was at risk, and she decided it was better to never know them, to never love them, than to be the reason they lost their life.
Evie didn’t want to live like that. Shecouldn’tlive like that. But she couldn’t hurt Angela either. She started to pull back, but Angela brought her other hand to Evie’s cheek. Evie’s lips parted, a surprised gasp slipping through.
“I’m scared the curse might take you from me, or me from you,” Angela said. “But that doesn’t change how I feel about you. How I think you feel about me.”
They sat like that, suspended for what felt like hours, this ember that had been smoldering between them for years finally flickering to life. Slowly, Evie threaded her fingers through Angela’s. She pushed forward at the same time Angela did, and they met in the middle. When their lips touched—soft and supple and sweet—the flame became a fire.
Evie’s mouth parted, making way for Angela’s tongue. It glided against Evie’s before sweeping her mouth. Angela pressed her hand to Evie’s shoulder, gentle at first, until they were falling. Evie on the couch, Angela on Evie. Chest to chest, heart to heart. The journal and the cards and the curse forgotten.
Angela’s twists fell forward, curtaining Evie as she looked up into Angela’s eyes. Evie loosened her grip on Angela and brought her hands to either side of her face. Then she lifted her head from the couch and deepened their kiss.
When they finally broke apart, Angela held herself up with her hands on either side of Evie while Evie came up onto her elbows. She stared into Angela’s eyes, the pupils so wide it was hard to see where the black ended and the deep brown began. Evie reached up and brushed her thumb over Angela’s cheek. Angela leaned into her hand, and her eyelids fluttered softly.
“I’ve loved you for a long time,” Evie whispered. The words settled over them both, and Evie knew she had to find a way to keep Angela safe.
Chapter Twenty
Honeysuckle House, Now
If houses had fingers, then Honeysuckle House could’ve counted the times it had spent the night alone on one hand. There was the time Regina had lit a red candle, put on a matching shade of lipstick, and left in a car she’d purchased sometime after Violet had left Burdock Creek. Linda had been born nine months later.
Before that, it had only been left behind once, when Helen and Christopher took their daughters on holiday after the war, and the house didn’t much like to think of that trip. It had been so excited to see the Buick pulling up the drive that it hadn’t noticed the car was going too fast, its tires swerving out of control. Of all the deaths, that one the house should’ve been able to prevent, but it wasn’t fast enough. The house had never really gotten the chance to say a proper goodbye to the first witch who had given it life.
Now, Honeysuckle House sat staring out over the fall leaves. Dusk had long since turned to dark. Inside, it felt empty and alone. It creaked the floorboards and rattled the pipes in an attempt to block out the silence, but it didn’t help. Every sound it made was a reminder of the sounds it lacked.
Laughter.
Whispers.
Footsteps on stairs.
With a heavy sigh and a settling of wood and plaster, the house closed the shutters and turned out the porch light.
Part VThe Ace of Swords
The start of a new journey that brings clarity or truth.
Chapter Twenty-One
Regina, 1960
Whenever Regina needed to calm her mind, she turned to the bees. The workshop sat several hundred feet behind the house, and the apiary another several hundred feet behind that, before the meadow gave way to the creek bed and the water to the mountains.
They had a total of fifteen Langstroth-style hives, each stacked three boxes high. Regina sat on the clover a few feet from the bees. Their steady hum filled any empty place in her heart left behind by her parents, a soft, lulling sound she could lose herself in. She held out a hand as one of the worker bees came to investigate. It landed lightly on the base of her palm, small legs tickling Regina’s skin. Another came to join it.
Regina’s eyes trailed from the gentle insects to one of the hives, where tens of thousands of sisters like these worked to fill comb with nectar, to feed their young, and to tend to their queen, when Regina heard a high-pitched buzzing. She shook the bees from her palm and stood to investigate.
There at the edge of one of the hives, far from where she should be, stood a queen, her long abdomen reaching beyond the length of her wings, her antennae twitching as the other bees of her colony clustered around her. Their urgency almost looked as if they were coming to her aid, but Regina knew better. Her heart raced, partterror, part anticipation. There was nothing she could do to stop what was about to happen. But she couldn’t look away.
Bees pressed in on the queen, their buzzing loud and insistent and almost enough to drown out the queen’s piercing cries. But not quite. They crawled over top and underneath, pulling her this way and that. They tore at her thorax, at her abdomen, at her wings. Though she struggled to escape them, they were too many. They pressed in until Regina couldn’t see her anymore, covered as she was by the wriggling bodies. Regina picked up the ball of bees and held them in the palm of her hand. Their humming made her skin tingle, but they didn’t seem to notice her.
