Page 73 of Witches of Honeysuckle House
Beside Clara, Ink reached for her sandwich, claws sinking into the bread. She gently removed his paw before tearing off a piece and offering it to him.
“Ink likes the sandwich, too!” Clara said as he nibbled on it.
Evie took a bite of her own. “I wish the house would make my grilled cheese taste this good.”
“I don’t see why we can’t stay here tonight,” Clara said. “If it’s safe enough for dinner, why isn’t it safe enough to sleep here? I miss my bed.”
As much as Evie wanted that, the househadcaught fire the day before. She’d been careful not to leave any unattended flames burning today, but that didn’t mean she was ready to trust the house with her daughter’s safety. “With dinner, I can keep an eye on everyone,” she said. “If we’re sleeping, it’s harder to do that.”
“We could all stay in the same bed,” Clara suggested. “Like a sleepover!”
Evie glanced at Angela, and they both laughed softly.
“As fun as a sleepover sounds, your mom is right,” Angela said.
Clara took another bite and made a thoughtful noise. “Has the house ever done this before?”
Evie shook her head. “Not that I can remember.”
“Then how do you know it’s the curse making it like this?” Clara asked.
“I suppose I don’t,” Evie said as she sat down across from her daughter. “Not for sure.” The only time the house had ever been unsafe was on a curse day—the attack on her sister, her dad falling out the window. Catching fire before the thirteenth didn’t line up with the curse as she knew it. But something about it felt familiar, like the way Evie’s own magic had become erratic, as if, this time, the magic that brought the house to life was affected by the curse, too.
Angela flipped the last sandwich, the oil popping as it met the hot surface of the pan. She gave it a pat with the spatula, then turned to face Evie, but the sound had drawn Evie’s focus. The flames traveled up around the side of the pan, bigger than they’d been a moment ago. She tilted her head as one of the other burners came on. Then another.
Her eyes went wide, but before she could say anything, flames shot straight up from the burners, engulfing the pan. The sandwich caught fire. The pot of soup, too, started to boil. Red liquid bubbled up and spilled over the edges, dripping down the front of the oven onto the floor.
Angela stood, staring at the flames. Evie jumped up from the table and pulled her out of their path. The lights flickered on and off. Pots and pans fell from their places on the racks overhead.
Evie ran for the fire extinguisher. She struggled with the release pin as she pointed it at the stove, the flames growing higher and higher, until, finally, it came loose. She squeezed the handle. White dust covered the burners, the oven, the counter, putting out the flames. Evie grabbed a nearby hand towel and reached into the smoke. She turned the knobs, cutting off the gas.
When she turned around, she found Angela standing behind her, holding onto Clara who clutched Ink against her chest. Evie took them both by the hand and pulled them out of the kitchen, down the front stairs, and into the yard.
Once they were safe outside, Evie lifted Angela’s hands, checking over her palms. “Are you hurt?”
Angela shook her head, but the color had drained from her face.
“I thought it would be safe,” Evie said. “I was so certain the other fire was from Clara’s spell.”
“My spell.” The regret in Clara’s voice almost broke something inside of Evie as Clara clutched Ink tighter and looked back toward the front door.
Evie knelt down beside her. “This wasn’t your magic, honeybee. This was something else. The house it’s …” She shook her head, not quite knowing what to say. “It started before your candle.”
“I should’ve talked you out of dinner here,” Angela said, her body shaking.
“This isn’t your fault, either,” Evie said. “I’m the one who pushed us to come back. I was so sure after the fire didn’t cause any serious damage …” She looked up at the turret window where just yesterday she’d watched the flames from this very spot.
Beside her, Clara slipped her hand into Angela’s and leaned her head against her side. Ink hopped out of her arms and wound his way around Angela’s legs.
“Don’t worry,” Clara said. “Mommy won’t let anything happen to us.”
Evie ruffled Clara’s hair, but her eyes were on Angela.
“I want to believe that’s true,” Angela said. But she wasn’t looking at Clara, either.
“It will be,” Evie said. “It has to be.”
That night while Clara slept with Ink curled against her chest, Evie slipped from the bedroom. She paused at Angela’s door, considered opening it to see if she was still awake, to apologize again for putting her in danger. Instead, she padded down the hallway to where she’d left the journals stacked on the coffee table.
