Page 12 of The Witching Moon Manor (The Spellbound Sisters #2)
“Do you know what’s causing it?” Beatrix asked as she turned toward Anne.
“Yes,” Anne said, pausing as if considering how to deliver the news. “Someone has failed to complete their Task. A very powerful witch who hid his abilities.”
An icy chill filled the room that had nothing to do with the harsh wind rattling the windowpanes.
Violet and Beatrix didn’t know where this sudden sense of unease had come from at first, but as they grasped the gingham cloth of their quilts and pulled the edges closer, the underlying meaning of Anne’s words began to take shape.
And they realized the unsettling sensation was coming from suspicions that had been waiting to be drawn out from the past once more.
“You can’t mean Mr. Crowley!” Violet cried when she managed to fit the pieces together.
“I’m afraid so,” Anne sighed as she reached forward to grasp her sister’s hand. “I need to complete his Task to keep the threads of destiny where they’re meant to be.”
“But you can’t,” Violet insisted, her thoughts obviously flying to that night in the train station when Mr. Crowley had uttered the name of the one person who’d ever made him feel whole.
“It’s not what he wanted. If you complete Mr. Crowley’s Task, he and Philip will be separated again, this time for good. ”
The floorboards groaned beneath their feet at that, a clear sign that the house was just as unsettled by this possibility as the Quigley sisters.
For though Mr. Crowley could still pass on if another witch was able to complete his Task before everything unraveled, Philip’s chances of moving forward were more uncertain.
Something was keeping him here, and if that lingering sense of restlessness remained, he would be tethered in between this life and the next forever.
“The longer Mr. Crowley’s Task is left undone, the worse these instances are going to become,” Anne replied. “And the more likely it is that other witches won’t be able to meet their Fate.”
Violet fell quiet, apparently silenced by the sheer weight of the situation.
“But what if there’s a way to help Mr. Crowley get what he wants while ensuring that everything else remains where it needs to be?” Beatrix murmured, her thoughts slipping away from her sisters and toward an alternative end to their friend’s story.
“What do you mean, Bee?” Anne asked while Beatrix continued to sort through all the different possibilities, just as she did when trying to knit together the delicate plotlines that carried her characters in the proper direction.
“Mr. Crowley wanted most of all to be with Philip,” Beatrix explained. “It wasn’t so much about where he ended up as it was who he was with.”
“Yes,” Violet agreed hesitantly, her tone indicating that she was unsure where Beatrix’s train of thought would lead them. “It wasn’t as if he was looking forward to becoming a ghost. All he wanted was to be with Philip.”
“That’s it!” Anne declared, clearly understanding now what Beatrix was proposing.
“What’s it?” Violet asked, but as her gaze flitted from Anne to Beatrix, she appeared to see the path that was slowly unfolding before them.
“We need to figure out what’s keeping Philip here so that he’ll be free to move forward into the afterlife,” Beatrix said with a note of finality, as if she were reading the final card of a tarot spread. “And when we do that, we’ll finish Mr. Crowley’s Task so they can go together.”
The sisters’ hearts began to race then, pulled forward by a newfound sense of hope. The shift in their spirits was so strong that the parlor began to feel warmer and more welcoming, drawing them deeper into the corners of the cushions so that they could begin to plan in earnest.
“Everything would have to come together at just the right moment,” Beatrix said as she considered all the pieces that needed to fall into place.
Mr. Crowley and Philip had both been lingering in between, and the only way to be certain that they could be together was to make sure they moved forward at the same moment.
Neither of them had been grounded in the next phase, and if they failed to cross over together, it was likely that they’d lose one another again before finding their way to what rested beyond this life.
“Time isn’t on our side,” Anne murmured.
“We don’t have until the end of the year as we did with the curse.
This needs to be sorted out in a matter of weeks, or the situation may slip entirely beyond our control.
And we’ll need to try and uncover the rightful owner of Mr. Crowley’s ring while figuring out what can be done for Philip so we’re ready to reunite them when everything falls into place. ”
“There’s the shop to consider too,” Beatrix added.
She knew that if Anne neglected the Crescent Moon, the other members of the Council would wonder what was carrying her away from the shop and begin to notice that her focus wasn’t entirely on completing Mr. Crowley’s Task.
Then they might realize what she was up to and take matters into their own hands, demanding the ring and finishing the Task themselves before the Quigleys could be certain that Philip wouldn’t be left behind.
“But you have me,” Violet said, reaching forward to pull Anne’s hand into her own. “I can help uncover clues and keep the shop running smoothly so you can focus your effort on putting things to rights.”
“I’m relieved to hear that,” Anne replied. “Because I’m not going to be able to do this on my own.”
“I can help too,” Beatrix added.
Anne drew in a breath then, as if a distinct fragrance had drifted into the room.
“You certainly will,” Anne replied as she considered her sister. “But I think that you must also try to write. I have a feeling that you need to stay on your path for us to set Mr. Crowley and Philip on theirs.”
“Why do you think that?” Beatrix asked curiously.
“Your birthday vision was the sensation of paper crumbling beneath your fingertips,” Anne explained. “And in my vision just now, I could smell aged paper. It must all be connected somehow.”
Beatrix wanted to protest, but when she met Anne’s eyes and saw the sense of certainty that had grown there, she merely sighed and leaned against the back of the settee.
As much as she would have liked a distraction from her own troubles, if Anne thought that she needed to stay focused on her writing to help their friend find the same sense of peace their mother must have felt when she slipped beyond the worries of this life and into the arms of their father, that was what she would do.
“You’re just going to have to trust me,” Anne murmured as she reached forward and gripped Beatrix’s fingers with her free hand. “I do,” Beatrix replied, returning the pressure. She believed in her sister’s intuition, now more than ever.
“Then let’s begin,” Violet declared as she laced her hand through the crook of Beatrix’s arm, drawing the three of them together in a single interconnected knot. “Since we don’t have a moment to waste.”
With that, the house prodded the fire until the flames were roaring, knowing that the Quigley sisters would remain awake in the family parlor long into the evening hours as they discussed how a bargain might be struck with Fate once more.