Page 93 of Witches of Honeysuckle House
“I didn’t know about you,” Violet said. “Just like you didn’t know about me.”
“But my mom is your sister. Didn’t you want to see her?”
“It’s a long story, and one we don’t have time for,” Violet said. “Not right now—not if we want to keep you and your mother safe.”
“You’re here because of the curse.” Then, with a gasp, Linda said, “The candles were for you.”
Her aunt’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”
“My mother had me dip brown candles to call someone home. And here you are.”
“Wait,” Violet asked. “Your mother called me home? With magic?”
“She was having trouble doing it on her own, so she had me make them.”
Violet pressed a hand to her chest to where she, too, had felt a shift over the past few days, an erratic flickering of power that felt like it might go out at any moment.
“Where is your mother now?” she asked.
“Upstairs,” Linda said with a shrug, but Violet could see the fear in her eyes. “She said she was going to stop the curse, and I didn’t need to worry.”
Violet glanced up at the house. Inside the lights flickered. On and off. On and off. Then, they held that way. The only glow came from the window at the top of the turret where her sister had always cast her spells after their parents died.
“She said it was very important I didn’t interrupt her.” At first, Linda’s voice was matter of fact, but it slowly shifted as fear crept in, and with it, sadness. “If I distract her, she might mess up the spell and the curse will kill her and leave me all alone.”
“She told me she needed my help with the spell,” Violet said.
“I don’t know anything about that.”
Realization dawned on Violet. “She wanted you to talk to me. She wanted you to keep me busy.”
The night Tillie died sped through Violet’s mind like a film. The fight with her sister, the black candle on her altar, the bathtub. Her confidence that nothing Regina did would be more powerful than Violet’s magic.
Unless Regina had found a way to change that.
“No,” Violet whispered. She stepped around her niece and started up the stairs at a run.
Chapter Fifty-Six
Regina, 1973
Regina stood in her attic room, her spell prepared, as she watched her sister’s car—the car they were meant to share—pull up the drive. She’d done everything she could to keep Violet in her life, and still her sister had left. Yes, Regina’s siphoning spell had gone wrong. She hadn’t intended for Tillie to die, though it did solve the problem of Tillie being in her house.
The moment it happened, Regina had felt it deep inside her. With the sacrifice of Violet’s love—of Tillie’s life—the siphoning spell was complete. Her sister’s power flowed through her. A hot, burning flame, brighter than any candle. And with all that light, came shadows. A darkness had found its way inside Regina, twisting her thoughts, her hopes, her fears.
It wasn’t until the light that cast those shadows started to flicker almost thirteen years later that she’d realized her true mistake. In casting her siphoning spell, she’d been careless. She’d said she’d give up her magic if her spell didn’t return Violet to her, if things didn’t go back to the way they were before Tillie. Those words had tangled up with thirteen years of grief on the anniversary of her parents’ death, and here she was, about to lose her magic forever if she didn’t cast the spell once more. If she didn’t make a sacrifice that would allow her to continue to siphon another witch’s power.
Only, this time, all she had left to sacrifice was Violet, which meant she would have to siphon her daughter. She’d make sure Linda couldn’t leave the same way Violet had, because in thirteen years, she’d have to find a way to do it again.
Regina had everything ready. The brown candle to trap Linda. The black candle to siphon her sister. The doorknob to anchor the spell to Honeysuckle House, her unwilling accomplice. Regina held a match poised to strike as she listened for the sound of footsteps on her spiral staircase.
There!
Violet stood at the top of the landing, and just behind her, Linda.
“Hello, Violet.” Regina’s voice was love and loss and anger all rolled into one.
“Regina,” Violet said, her eyes sweeping over Regina’s altar. “What are you …?”
