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TWENTY

Meg was shouting on the other end of the line. “Thorn! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Thorn said, and hung up. But she wasn’t fine. As she stood at the side of the road catching her breath, she heard a strange trilling sound. It was getting louder and closer.

Bandit ran down the main pathway leading out of the park. All his way to her, he continued making that sound.

“Bandit? Why aren’t you talking?”

He leaped into her arms, and she caught him. He stopped making the sound. She could feel his heart thumping against hers.

“I’m all right, Bandit.”

He sunk his fangs into her arm. She grimaced but kept hold of him.

Finally, he said, If you have a death wish, I have four other weapons. He sank his claws into her arm as if she needed a reminder.

“I’d better be more careful crossing the road, then,” Thorn said. “Let’s go home.”

Just this time, Bandit let her hold him a little too tightly.

Thorn’s mind was still racing. If those vacant green eyes she believed were Rose’s in that grave were Mother’s… how had Thorn gotten her memories so badly jumbled up? She supposed she had been only nine. And Rose did have Mother’s eyes, after all.

But Rose was certainly dead.

There must be a perfectly reasonable explanation for the empty grave. Maybe Rose’s remains, bones and all, had been devoured by time and earth. It had been three hundred years.

But Thorn needed answers. The first thing she did when she got home was light the fireplace. She recited, “Through the fire that burns within this enchanted hearth, through history, through the spirits, I call upon Madam Maude.”

It wasn’t long before Madam Maude’s face appeared. “Are you married yet?”

“That grave down by the river. It’s empty.”

Madam Maude looked as shocked as Thorn had been earlier, but then she said, “Why are you suddenly bringing this up? It’s been so many years.”

“You knew,” Thorn said.

Madam Maude was surprised—but not about the grave’s emptiness, only that Thorn had found out.

“I knew Rose wasn’t there. Yes.”

“Where is she buried? Is it in the cemetery at the edge of town with Mother?”

“No. Your mother could be buried in your father’s family plot because even though he’d abandoned you all a decade earlier, they were still married. No such rights are afforded to children.”

“So Mother set up an empty grave? But why?”

“I was the one who erected the cairn for Rose. There’s nothing buried under there because there was nothing left of her. Rose was eaten by the black panther. You told me you saw it with your own eyes.”

Thorn’s memories of what happened thirty years ago had been ravaged by time, but some parts were as vivid as yesterday. She closed her eyes and tried to replay what she’d seen that night.

She and Rose had gone foraging for mushrooms for dinner when the black panther attacked. She could clearly see the big cat’s inky black fur glinting in the moonlight, its yellow eyes shining through the dark. It had lunged for Rose.

Thorn forced her eyes open to escape the memory. “Madam Maude, I remember Mother telling me it was my fault that Rose died. How could a panther attack in the wild be my fault?”

“I loved your mother. She was my good friend for years. But when your father left, something broke in her. She got very sick. You shouldn’t take the things she said to heart.”

Since their deaths, Madam Maude had never once mentioned Mother or Rose, but Thorn always assumed that was because the pain of their deaths was better forgotten, not because she was hiding something. “But—”

“Thorn, I don’t know what else to tell you. I’m sorry, I have to go now.” Madam Maude’s face disappeared from the fire.

Thorn’s thoughts were like bubbles in a boiling brew, rising to the top and popping so quickly that she couldn’t make sense of them. And there was a tightness in her chest that made her nauseous. She needed to do something to calm the ocean in her.

She fed Bandit an early dinner. The practiced motions of scooping the wet food out of the can and into a bowl and adding a handful of freeze-dried toppers brought the bubbling brew in her mind to a gentle simmer.

She prepared two more bowls and headed outside. Pepper and Pumpkin leaped down from the roof and rubbed up against her legs. Then they devoured their dinners.

As she carried the empty bowls back inside, she spotted the raven on the fig tree, a dark silhouette against a background of fiery sunset. It kept its beady eyes on her. She quickened her pace and made sure to lock the door behind her.

From the door, she hugged the wall and made her way to the kitchen window. Bandit stopped cleaning his bowl and sat up.

She peeked out. “Bandit, that raven’s still there.

You were right. It must be a witch’s familiar.

I don’t know who. I don’t know why. But there’s something fishy about three men ticking ‘yes’ on my name for the speed dating.

Not to be self-deprecating—I do look better after that makeover Meg gave me, but not three whole-arse men better. ”

I believe the modern vernacular is “whole-ass.”

“And then there’s Brad, who fled mid-date last month coming back out of nowhere and asking me out for a date. He was probably potioned into it.”

I’m on it. Bandit stalked toward the door, but there, he paused. Are you okay, Thorn?

“I’m…” She trailed off. Bandit never called her by her name. “Not.”

Bandit sat down, but he kept his shoulders and ears up.

From the way Madam Maude evaded the topic, it was possible that everything Thorn believed about Rose’s death was false.

And it was quite likely that Thorn would never find out the complete truth.

This was driving her to the point of paranoia.

But it had been thirty years, Thorn told herself.

Knowing the truth about Rose’s death would change nothing.

She should let go of the past and concentrate on today and tomorrow.

“Forget it, Bandit. It’s probably just a regular raven.”

Wishy-washy witches. Bandit sauntered back toward the bed.

Her phone chimed with a text:

Good evening, Thorn. It’s Peter from speed dating. How has your day been?

Thorn had dinner plans with Brad later, along with three possible dates with the men she’d met at speed dating. She had worked so hard to get these—they could lead to a love that Mother tried so hard and failed to attain. If Thorn wasn’t careful, she, too, could end up alone and lonely forever.

Another text came in.

brAD: Pick you up at 6 tonight? We’ll go to Pinocchio’s. It’s a very romantic restaurant.

THORN: Can’t wait!

But then she hit backspace. Brad had dumped her mid-date.

Sure, it was a miracle he was giving her another chance—but she would play hard to get.

As for the three speed-daters who said yes, they’d spent only five minutes with her.

An additional minute, and Thorn might have said or done something that made them write no.

Her latest makeover had helped her get her foot in the door, but she was going to need more.

THORN: Something came up. Could we postpone?

She plopped herself down on the table and opened her spell book. She had less than a day to ensure her future dates went smoothly. Parents were predisposed to love their own children, but hers hadn’t even liked her. To get a man to love her, she needed magic.