Page 19

Penny

IN ELEMENTARY SCHOOL, THE KIDS USED TO PLAY A GAME.

In whispered voices, each person would have to choose whether they wanted to live in Meredith House or the De Luca home. They were polar opposites, and your choice was supposed to say a lot about you: whether you wanted to live in a haunted house or a mansion, whether you wanted to be friends with sweet Corey or wreak havoc with mysterious Alonso.

Once you made your choice, you had a task: to try to steal a flower or leaf or rock from the yard of the home you picked. You had one week.

Penny only managed it once. She lied, telling her mom she wanted to play at Elkie Lake. While her mom was getting her folding chair from the trunk, Penny dashed to the front yard of the home she’d picked, tearing a wildflower from the overgrown lawn. She still has the wood sorrel, which she pressed between the pages of her journal. Anita framed it for her, though she never knew that it came from a small patch of flowers outside the De Luca home.

The Barrions’ home is beautiful. But it didn’t set her imagination on fire the way Alonso’s house always did.

Now Penny is walking up to the front door for the first time. It looms before her, dark even in the bright evening sun.

Before Penny can knock, Alonso swings the door open and waits.

And waits.

“Are you coming in?” he says.

Penny forces herself to smile, hoping it hides how nervous she is. “Are you going to say hello?”

Alonso glares at her. But instead of snapping at her, he gives her a drawn-out “Hello,” bowing like a butler.

Penny stifles a laugh. She glances up at a rotting birds’ nest sitting in one of the windows before she finally steps inside.

It’s like walking into a gothic novel. Heavy curtains hang around stained-glass windows, and evening light filters through the glass in reds and greens and purples. The walls are crowded with paintings, photographs, and shelves holding vases of dead or dried flowers and rusting metal animal figurines. The furniture fits the era of the house, and most of it looks like it hasn’t been reupholstered in decades. The bones of a love seat peek out from tears in dusty purple velvet, and a throne-like armchair has one leg that’s an entirely different length and color than the rest of them.

“It’s exactly how I pictured it,” Penny says.

Alonso raises an eyebrow. “You pictured my house?”

Penny blushes. “I—no.”

A slow grin spreads across his face. “Come on. Corey is already in the basement.”

As Alonso leads her through the house, Penny glimpses a messy dining room and a kitchen with dried flowers and herbs hanging from the ceiling. Alonso opens a creaky door. “This way,” he says, disappearing down a dark staircase.

The basement is unfinished. The corners are crowded with undulating spiderwebs, and the floor is hidden by tall stacks of boxes, some of them overflowing with old clothing and Christmas decorations. A shred of sunlight peeks through tiny windows near the ceiling.

Corey is standing in the middle of the room, his arms crossed as he glances around nervously. “Is that the only light?” he says, pointing at the small light bulb overhead.

“It’s plenty,” Alonso says.

“We have to look through all of these boxes for the spell?” Penny asks, eyes running over them.

“Relax. I’m a witch, remember?” Alonso holds out a hand, and then he flinches. “Shit. Forgot the words.” He pulls a small book out of his robe, opening it to an earmarked page. Penny glimpses the title on the spine: The Magic of the Every-Day.

It’s a spell book. An actual spell book.

Corey holds out his hand in warning. “Whoa, what are you doing?”

Alonso ignores him as he runs his finger along a page.

It’s strange seeing Alonso like this. Penny’s heard girls whisper about him before, talking about his gray eyes and crooked smile, how if he would bother to give someone a compliment, it would be easy for him to get a date. But as far as Penny can remember, Alonso has never dated anyone. She isn’t even sure if he likes boys or girls or everyone in between. She never used to understand what people meant when they described Alonso as handsome, but as Penny watches him, heat rushes through her. Maybe she gets it now.

And then he glances at her.

It happens too quickly for Penny to look away, and for a moment, they stare at each other. Alonso always has his guard up, but in that moment, his face opens briefly, and there’s something in his eyes that looks almost… tender.

Penny’s face grows hot with embarrassment, and she tears her eyes away from him. Alonso isn’t looking at her in any particular way; Penny is imagining things.

“What’s that?” she asks, nodding at the book.

“You’ll see,” he says, his voice low. Then he recites the spell on the page:

“From mind to hand,

from wish to presence,

light the journey,

light the eyes.”

Nothing happens. Alonso stands there with his eyes open and unfocused, not moving.

“What was that?” Corey says, but Alonso holds out a hand to silence him—and a second later, a corner of the room starts to glow.

It’s softer than the light bulb. Maybe it’s a mirror, reflecting the light of the room. But then the light grows brighter and brighter, until Penny is forced to shield her eyes.

Alonso grins and walks directly to the corner. The light disappears, and Alonso kicks something into the center of the room. It’s a clear plastic storage container.

“Ta-da,” he says.

Corey hesitates, but Penny kneels in front of the box. The lid has EMILIA’S CDS (DONATE?) written on the top, but it’s full to the brim with musty old books. They have titles like Herbal Remedies, 1705–1725 and Reconnecting Your Coven in Five Easy Steps.

“It should be pretty obvious which one it is,” Alonso says, crouching down across from Penny.

“Probably not to me,” Penny says.

Corey kneels, too. “Let’s get this over with.”

They sort through the books, putting them into piles classified as MAYBE , PROBABLY , and NOPE . They even look through a few books, including one that’s full of spells to cause illness (Alonso claims it’s taboo and witches don’t generally do that kind of magic, but Corey tosses it out of his reach). There’s another book called The Light , which focuses on magic related to truth, though its definition of “truth” seems loose. There are incantations that destroy glamours and magic to uncover a person’s aura, but there are also spells for very complex truth serums.

“I’ll take that one,” Alonso says, setting it aside. “I’ve been wanting to practice some truth serums.”

Penny tries not to dwell on that thought. Instead, she grabs a book called Tricking the Mirror: The Art of Glamours , which has a relatively clean dust jacket the color of emeralds. Except when she opens it, there’s a completely different title inside.

“ The Blackfire Grimoire ,” she reads. She removes the dust jacket to reveal a black fabric-bound book.

“Bingo,” Alonso says.

“Why was it hidden like that?” Corey asks.

“Because it’s full of illegal spells.”

Corey presses a fist to his mouth, but he doesn’t object as Penny looks through the table of contents. The jagged edges of words catch her eye: Hexes , necromancy , bargains …

“Bargains?” Penny says. “What are those?”

“What they sound like,” Alonso says. “You give something up in exchange for something else. It’s like making a deal with the devil, except the devil is the Second World. You give it a sacrifice, it gives you lots of magic in exchange.”

“Could we break the curse that way?” Corey asks.

“Hell no. You can’t layer magic on top of magic like that.” Alonso grabs the book back. “That’s why this book is dangerous. It doesn’t tell you how complex these spells are, or how they interact. Hold on, I know it’s in here…” He flips through a few more pages and then stops. “Ha! Got it.”

Alonso lays the book flat and turns on his phone flashlight so they can see better:

THE UNWINDING

If the witch who casts a curse wishes to rid the mortal plane of this spell, they must gather three tokens that represent the past, present, and future. These items must have personal significance to the witch and to those suffering from the curse’s effects. A witch will need to use their metaphysical hands to cut the threads of the spell, leaving it adrift in the Second World and letting it starve.

Unlike other spells, there is no set incantation to unwind a curse. An incantation must be written by those who will participate in the unwinding. There should be three verses, all consistent in style and length.

Be wary that an unwinding opens a wide channel to the Second World.

“Shit,” Alonso says, “we have to write the spell on our own. It’s like being in summer school again.”

Corey flips the page, but that’s a spell for permanent transfiguration. “That’s it?”

“I guess so.” Alonso snaps the book shut. “There are three of us, so we should each choose a token and write a verse of the spell. If we write it together, it’ll be easier to draw on your energy when I unwind the curse.”

Corey chews his bottom lip, and for a moment, Penny swears he’s going to back out. But he says, “When should we be ready?”

“The next full moon, which is…” Alonso looks at his phone. “August ninth.”

“Wait, August ninth?” Corey grimaces. “That’s when my family is having our gala.”

“Oh,” Penny breathes. The Barrions’ annual fundraiser at Meredith House is one of the biggest events in Indiana, or maybe in the entire Midwest. They choose a different nonprofit to support every year, and if you buy a ticket for at least a thousand dollars, you’ll get access to the Barrions’ private home. The high price point means the normal people of Idlewood can’t afford to go. Instead, the party draws politicians, athletes, entrepreneurs, entertainers, and even a few socialites. It always gets written up in the IndyStar. Penny pores over the article every year, reading and rereading the descriptions of the ice sculptures, the extravagant floral displays, the Barrions’ coordinated outfits. The gala is everything the Barrions represent: exclusivity and mystery and wealth.

Alonso shrugs. “All magic gets stronger during the full moon, so we need to wait. It’ll give us the best chance.”

“If I’m not there all night, my family is going to get suspicious. It’s not a good idea.”

“I’m saying we don’t have a choice.”

Corey sighs. “Fine. I’ll make it work.”

“Then we have a month,” Penny says. Speaking the words makes her chest swell with hope. Mom will be back soon. Buoyed, Penny plucks The Blackfire Grimoire from Alonso’s hands. “I’ll keep this.”

“Huh? Why?”

“Because we’ll all be more comfortable if it’s not lying around your house.”

“Are you saying you don’t trust me?” Alonso says, that edge back in his voice.

Penny presses her lips into a thin line. “I honestly don’t know.”

Alonso works his jaw, and Penny is sure he’s going to argue with her, but he only says, “Take care of it.”

“I will,” Penny says. But she immediately breaks that promise when she stands up, because the book slips from her hands, falling open on the floor.

There’s a handwritten note on the inside cover. Penny reads it out loud: “‘Property of the Barnhardt coven.’”

“Oh yeah,” Alonso says. “They were the first coven in Idlewood.”

“There are other witches here?” Corey says. “Why didn’t we know that?”

“The Barnhardt coven is long gone,” Alonso says. “My ancestors never met them. They left their books on our front porch after my family settled in Idlewood, and they disappeared.” Alonso shrugs. “It’s not easy moving through the world as a witch. A lot of covens don’t make it.”

Penny runs her fingers over the note, carefully choosing her next words. “Are you sure they’re gone?”

“Yep.”

“So you’re positive nobody else could’ve cursed Corey’s family?”

Alonso’s brow furrows, but Corey jumps in immediately. “You know the story, Penny. It was Giovanni De Luca. He basically admitted to it when he…” Corey gives a vague hand gesture.

“Shot himself?” Alonso says, and Corey pulls a face.

“Right,” Penny whispers.

Alonso is working his jaw as if he wants to say something else, but he doesn’t. They walk upstairs, following Alonso to a room at the back of the house. Penny is about to ask why they aren’t going to the front door, but when she steps inside the room, all thoughts leave her head.

Instead of walls, there are stained-glass windows that stretch from the floor all the way up to the second story of the house. The middle of the room is occupied by a wrought-iron table with matching chairs, but every other inch of the space is taken up with plants. Tall, short, tropical, grassy, blooming—all thriving. Penny stares up at a bird of paradise that is at least twice her height. She half expects the plant to grow even taller before her eyes.

“What is this place?” she asks.

Alonso shrugs. “It’s just the solarium.”

Penny is about to reply that this room isn’t just anything, but the back door creaks as Corey steps outside. He glances at Penny over his shoulder and gives her the briefest of smiles. But since he’s Corey, it radiates warmth, and Penny feels herself smiling back.

Alonso steps into her line of sight. “You can leave through the front like a normal person.”

Penny follows him to the front door, but as he’s about to open it, the doorknob turns. There’s the jangle of keys in the lock.

Alonso turns on his heel and stares at Penny in horror. But she’s frozen in place. She feels like a skier in the path of an avalanche.

The door swings open, revealing the three De Luca sisters.

“Oh,” says Vera De Luca. She’s the spitting image of Alonso—all long limbs and messy blond hair, though hers is free of box-dye blue. Unlike Alonso, whose eyes are a stormy gray, Vera’s are green, and they only get brighter when they land on Penny.

Somehow, even though she’s in the De Luca home, this wasn’t on Penny’s bingo card. She makes a sound that was meant to be “Hi!” but comes out as a squeak.

Donna De Luca steps around Vera. Unlike Alonso’s mom, she’s short and stout, with black hair in a pixie cut. She’s puffing on a cigarette that seems to float above her hand. She gets in close, and Penny realizes she’s wearing some sort of cigarette-holder ring. If Penny wasn’t too terrified to speak, she might’ve told Donna that she looks like an alternate-universe Audrey Hepburn if she’d come of age in British punk clubs.

“Who,” Donna says, making a smoke ring, “are you?”

This is what snaps Penny out of it. “Alice in Wonderland!”

“It sure does seem that way,” Vera says.

Penny blushes. “Oh no, I meant she’s like the caterpillar.”

Donna’s smile falls. “Excuse me?”

Penny looks at Alonso, hoping he can throw her a lifesaver, but he’s given up. She’s at the mercy of his family now.

“I’m Penny,” she manages.

Donna’s smile somehow falls farther. “Emberly?”

“Oh!” The third De Luca sister, Emilia, steps up to Penny and places a gentle hand on her shoulder. She’s willowy, with a gauzy brown scarf threaded around her neck and tangling with her brown hair. “I should’ve known! You look exactly like Nathan.”

Everyone knows everyone in Idlewood, so it’s strange the De Lucas didn’t recognize her immediately. But the family does keep to themselves, and Emilia makes Penny feel so calm that she doesn’t dwell on it. “I get that a lot.”

Donna looks her up and down. “Too skinny.”

Emilia gasps. “Pasta! I’ll grab a bag.”

Emilia and Donna scuttle off to the kitchen, leaving Penny with Vera and Alonso. Vera stands with her arms crossed, an unreadable expression on her face.

“No offense,” Vera says, “but why are you here?”

Finally, Alonso finds his voice. “We were studying.”

“During summer break?”

“Penny’s good at physics. She’s tutoring me.”

Penny decides not to mention she got a C+ in physics last year. She nods, but she puts too much effort into it, and the entire top half of her body rocks forward.

Vera narrows her eyes. She’s not buying it.

Luckily, Emilia and Donna appear and shove two Ziploc bags full of frozen pasta into Penny’s arms.

“Tagliatelle and farfalle,” Emilia says. “Donna made them herself.”

“Best pasta you’ve ever had,” Donna says. “And if it’s not, you’d better never tell me that.”

“Thank you,” Penny says.

“She’ll be late for work,” Alonso lies, stepping between them and herding Penny onto the porch.

“Bye, Penny!” Emilia says in her soft, lilting voice, and then Alonso slams the door in her face.

It takes five seconds for Penny to remember how to move her limbs. She clutches the bags of pasta closer to her chest as they begin to sweat in the heat. That probably could’ve gone worse, right?

Penny walks to the Prius, deliberately not looking at the Barrion mansion across the street. Now that she knows how much grief lives behind the walls of Meredith House, she’s almost embarrassed, as if she holds some power over them that she never wanted in the first place. She’s so distracted by this that she almost misses the final member of the De Luca family.

In the highest turret of the De Luca home, a cat sits at the window, still as a gargoyle. Penny squints, trying to get a closer look.

The cat doesn’t move. But Penny is positive the animal is staring directly at her.