Page 82 of Witches of Honeysuckle House
The beam had fallen the moment Evie cast the spell. Maybe it wasn’t the curse that had caused it, Florence thought, but whatever magic Evie had found in her mother’s journal.
“If this is anyone’s fault, it’s Evie’s,” Florence said at the same time Evie asked, “How could it be your fault?”
“The house heard us yesterday,” Owen said. “It knows who I am.”
The realization hit Florence square in the chest, knocking the wind out of her. No, her feelings for Owen hadn’t put him in danger. But by bringing him here, by mentioning his aunt, she’d risked his life all the same.
“It tried to kill you just like it killed Tillie,” she breathed.
The lights snapped off. Florence glanced at the hole in the ceiling, eyes tracking for more loose beams. The creaking had stopped the moment she blew out the candles, but she still needed to get Owen out of there. If the house had taken revenge once, it could very well do it again.
“Tillie?” Evie asked.
“Grey,” Florence said. “She was Owen’s great-aunt.”
“She’s why I came to Burdock Creek,” he said. “I was looking for my family history.”
“But it wasn’t the curse that killed her,” Florence said. “It was the house. Becauseherparents killed Helen and Christopher.”
“I’m not following any of this,” Evie said, confusion clear on her face.
Yesterday it had been a theory, but now, in light of what had just happened to Owen, it was a theory Florence was willing to bet on.
“We looked at the police reports from the deaths. We found a letter from Aunt Violet. There’s no other explanation. The house killed Tillie,” Florence said. “And now, it’s forced to kill every thirteen years. That’s the curse Evie—it’s on the house. Not us.”
“No,” Evie said with disbelief. “It wouldn’t. You have it wrong.”
There was a rattling from the pipes in the walls, and Florence tightened her grip on Owen.
“Then how do you explain it dropping that beam on him?” Florence asked.
Evie looked up at the ceiling. “Did you do this?”
The lights slowly came back on, then winked out. Evie crossed her arms. “See?”
“We can’t trust the house,” Florence said.
“Honeysuckle House protected us from Mom, or did you forget that?” Evie asked. “It loves us, Florence.”
“If it wasn’t the house and it wasn’t the curse, it must have been the spell you tried!” Florence said.
This time, the lights came on and stayed that way.
Fear and shame flashed across Evie’s face, and if Florence wasn’t so angry, she might’ve held her tongue. But she was long past that. “If you trust the house, then you can’t ignore it now. The spell did this.Youdid this.”
“I was trying to save the house—to save all of us!” Evie yelled.
“We need to go,” Angela said. “The house isn’t safe, and we’re all sitting here waiting for the next thing to go wrong. That’s why I told Florence about the spell.”
“Youtold her?” Evie asked.
“Clara saw your candles, and I was afraid something was going to happen to you,” Angela said. “I didn’t want you to be hurt here all alone.”
“I came here alone soyouwouldn’t get hurt,” Evie said.
“A lot of good that did,” Florence said.
“Really, Florence? Can you not? Even if the housedidkill Tillie—which I absolutely do not believe—we still have a curse to contend with,” Evie said, her voice sharp. “A curse that, despite our theories, we’re no closer to breaking.”
