Page 96 of Witches of Honeysuckle House
The lights flashed their worry. The baby was coming.
Regina slid around Linda and ran for the candles. Linda tried to follow after her, but another contraction wracked her. Regina’s hand hung poised over the black candle. The house shuffled the floorboards, but it wasn’t enough.
Regina struck the match.
“No!” Linda shouted. The house shifted the floor beneath her, propelling Linda forward, and she collided with her mother. The match slipped from Regina’s fingers and landed on the rug. The house quickly rolled up the corner to put out the flame.
Linda grabbed her mother by her thin frame, turning so her back was toward the room. She forced Regina away from the spell circle and her candles toward the staircase until the back of Regina’s foot hung off the step.
Regina grabbed Linda, trying not to fall.
“You won’t take Robert from me.” The quiet rage in Linda’s voice gave the house pause. “And you won’t take my magic, either.”
With that, she grabbed her mother’s hands where she clung to Linda’s arms, and she pried them free. Regina’s eyes widened with fear. Then, Linda pushed her, hard. So hard Regina hit the back banister and fell over the edge, landing on the ground below with a heavy crack.
The pipes rattled in response. The house knew this was the only way. Regina would simply continue to cast the spell every thirteen years, taking the people the house loved most, until she, too died. Still, the house couldn’t bear to watch her fall.
Linda turned back toward the altar, when something wet spilled down her legs and pooled on the floor. Linda stumbled, but the house moved one wall inward, just enough to catch her.
“Thank you,” she said. The lights glowed brighter. Linda closed the gap between herself and her mother’s altar as she let out a groan. She looked over the journal one last time before she picked up a match.
At first the house didn’t understand. It showed Linda the truth, the cost of the spell. It flickered the lights, trying to warn her.
“It’s okay,” she said. “I’m going to keep this family together.”
The house shook the floorboards and the walls, but still, Linda struck the match. It flung the window open, blowing out the flame.
“I have to do this.” Desperation laced her voice. She turned away from the window and lit another, cupping her hand around the tip as she brought the candle to meet it. At first, the wick wouldn’t light, and if homes could breathe, Honeysuckle House would’ve sighed with relief. But then, the candle burned.
“I offer my mother.”
Linda used the candle to light the brown taper beside it. As she stared into the flames, there came a dragging sound from the steps. The house had been so focused on Linda, it had turned its attention away from Regina, not realizing she still lived. Now, the older woman pulled herself up the stairs. Blood stained the back of her head, and her leg was bent at an angle, but still she climbed.
The house tried to stop her. It tried to stop Linda. But the moment Linda lit the black candle, the house had lost control of itself.
Linda grabbed the tarot cards and put the edge of each into the flame. They caught fire instantly. She held them for a few moments before she dropped them into a cast iron bowl and watched them burn. As they did, fire engulfed the black candle. It burned fast and strong, and then, it went out.
Three of the steps fell from the spiral staircase, right where Regina was standing. Though the house tried to catch her, it was powerless to do so. The moment she hit the ground, the house regained itself. But it was too late. Her neck was broken.
The spell was complete.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Evie, Now
After they’d shared their findings, they sat in silence for a few moments. Finally, they had the truth. Evie pressed her fingers to her witch’s mark. When she was a child, she’d wished to have one just like Florence, but it wasn’t until after her father died that it appeared.
“She siphoned our magic.” Evie tried to imagine the amount of power her mother must’ve had once she’d claimed Evie’s in addition to her sister’s. It was no wonder they’d never been a match for her.
Evie bit her lip to try to stop herself from crying. Her mother had feared for her family, and she’d made a choice. Seeing her mother’s pain and her fears right there on the page had shifted something inside of Evie. She would do anything to protect her daughter. She recognized that same resolve in Linda. She knew, were she the one trying to stop Clara’s magic from being siphoned or protecting Angela from being offered as a sacrifice, she would’ve pushed her mother over that railing, too.
But that’s where things would’ve ended. Evie would rather lose her magic than force this on Clara.
“This is what Mom was doing thirteen years ago.” Florence held a hand to her throat as she said the words. “It’s why the honeysuckle attacked me. I’d been her offering.”
“But it didn’t work,” Angela said.
“Your mom died,” Owen said. “Not you.”
