“Starving.”
I watch him go, feeling far too content considering the circumstances. Mom’s pendant is warm against my skin, and I put my hand to it. I may have missed my chance to find clues in those lavender memories, but Gwen is alive and that is what matters right now.
THIRTY-FOUR
My jaw actually drops at the sight of Gwen’s house, which is barely more than a pile of ash on a cement foundation. I’m sure no one else can see the tendrils of smoke still clinging to the few upright beams. They are too black, too marred by magic. My guilt swells up anew. If only I had been paying attention instead of wallowing in my own grief.
Kat puts a gentle hand on my shoulder. “Let’s get to work.”
I nod, unable to speak with my tongue caught between misery and fury. Revenge is all I can think about, and for the millionth time since yesterday my mind goes racing back to Levi and his power. I shake the thoughts away. There has to be a way I can stop this Shadow on my own. Too bad I don’t know what that is. I spent all night trying to make Mom’s pendant work again, but nothing happened.
Kat hands me a pair of gloves, and we join in the cleaning efforts. All of Willow’s End has shown up to help Gwen’s family. As we toss charred wood into a giant trash bin, trucks arrive with new lumber and building supplies. Gwen’s dad seems to be overwhelmed with gratitude as he hugs Mr. Svaboda, the local contractor.
“Jo?” Kat says as we sweep ash off the foundation.
“Yeah?”
She leans in close to whisper. “Promise me Gwen gets to know what I know. It’s not fair that she’s on the outside, and I’d hate it if you erased her memory of this. She belongs with us.”
Nana may not be a fan of the idea, but deep in my gut it feels right, important. Gwen, Kat, and I have always been bound together by friendship, and that should never change. “I promise.”
She smiles. “Good, because I hate keeping secrets from her.”
“Me too.” As I think of her so far away at the hospital, I wouldn’t mind having her bound to me. Then I would know if she was safe. “When she gets out of the hospital, I’ll tell her everything. Hopefully she won’t freak out.”
Kat laughs. “It’s Gwen. She’ll have to freak out a little.”
I smile. “True.”
Her expression turns serious, and I’m not sure I want to hear what she has to say next. “What Levi did—”
A truck honks, and I turn to see Winn pulling up next to the fleet of pickups. I run over, happy to avoid whatever Kat was going to say. I don’t want her to know how tempting using Levi is to me, because I’m sure she’d kill me for it. I wrap my arms around Winn’s neck and kiss his cheek. “There you are.”
He kisses me back. “Sorry, my mom took forever picking what I should bring.”
I look to his truck bed, which is filled with furniture. A dining-room table, a hutch, and an old rocking chair. “Is that from your attic?”
“Yup.” He pulls me off and starts unhooking bungee cords. “And this isn’t even half of it. Still have a few beds and an entire living room to haul over.”
I help him with the cords. “There’s really that much up there?”
“You wanna come see?” His face is full of hope, and my heart flutters. His attic . . . there could be something helpful up there, since it would have been where Great-Great-Great-Aunt Fanny kept her history. For all I know it could still be there hiding, waiting for me. It could help me solve her death, and hopefully clear Winn of any responsibility.
I look to Kat, and she waves her hand as if she knows even from a distance that I’m about to ask her if I can leave. After we help with putting the furniture under the donations tent, we hop into his truck and drive to his place.
“You look better today,” Winn says as we head inside. The magic is as strong as I remember. I can’t help but take a little, though I’m already full. “Had me pretty worried last night.”
I sigh. “It’s been a crazy couple weeks, but helping at Gwen’s took my mind off things.”
“That’s good.” We climb the stairs to the second floor. The hall is tall and narrow, and I wonder which door leads to his room as we walk to another set of stairs.
“It’s quiet. Are your parents gone?” I ask.
“Mom went to visit Gwen and Mrs. Lee at the hospital, and my dad is trying to round up extra seed so they can still plant on time.”
“I see.” Perfect. Alone.
When he opens the door to the attic, it’s obvious to me that this place was meant to hold histories like any witching house. The ceilings are vaulted, and windows let in good reading light. The floors are finished in fine wood, and there is plenty of room for bookshelves. Except Winn’s family has chosen to use that space for about a century’s worth of old furniture, piled haphazardly for as far as I can see.
“Do you guys throw anything away?” I ask.
He smirks. “Not if it’s still in good condition.”
“I guess since it’s helping Gwen, I’ll overlook the packrat tendency.” I take a few tentative steps inside, worried that if I breathe too hard it’ll all come crashing down. “No wonder it took your mom forever to decide what you should bring.”
“No kidding.” He points to a nice-looking lamp with a pink ribbon tied to it. “The bow means we can take it.”
I scan the room, noticing that some of the ribbons are attached to pieces that are practically buried. “We’re gonna be up here for a while.”
His smile turns mischievous. “Is that a problem?”
I shake my head. “Let’s get to work before I regret not bringing a chaperone.”
He bites his lip, like he wants nothing more than to spend the day kissing me in the dark corners of this dusty attic. I wish, but trying to find Fanny’s history in this could take weeks. I need it now. Yesterday. We start gathering the marked furniture, taking the smaller pieces downstairs to get them out of the way, and then begin the task of unearthing beds and sofas.
“Wow.” I hold up a beautiful lamp that I swear is Tiffany. “This is an antique dealer’s heaven.”
He laughs. “I know, right?”
We’ve been working for a while, and I still haven’t found anything Fanny might have written in. Sighing, I sit on the nearest couch we’ve dug out, its plastic crinkling at my weight. “So, have you ever found any family stuff up here? Pictures or journals?”
“Oh, yeah.” Winn sets down the large vase he pulled off the nearest bed and sits next to me. “My great uncles fought in World War II. My dad dug out their albums and medals when he was a kid. We keep them downstairs now.”
“Anything older?”
He gives me a curious look. “Sounds like you’re looking for a particular answer.”
I shrug, already hating the lie on my tongue. “Nana said that back when she was a girl there were really strange rumors in town.”
“Really?” His brow furrows, and I can almost feel his nerves. “Like what?”
“Just about weird stuff happening in Willow’s End. I’ve always been curious about it, and I was hoping there might be something up here that could tell us more.”
“Hmm . . .” He rubs his chin as he looks around the attic. It seems the more we’ve “cleaned,” the less organized it’s become, as if more things keep appearing from the nether. “I don’t think so.”
“Well, it sounds like some of the town thought there really was a . . .” Suddenly I can hear my heart thumping, and the word catches in my mouth. I look at Winn, his eyes curious but not at all cunning like Levi’s. He doesn’t ooze desire or reek of darkness. He’s just a guy, and part of me wants to keep it like that. “Never mind. It’s stupid.”