Page 76 of Twisted Ties

“It’s okay. It’s better than I thought it would be.”

At the front door, I hesitate, then step inside. It doesn’t smell like it used to. No incense curling its way through the house. No herbs simmering on the stove. None of my aunt’s floral perfume floating through the rooms. Instead it stinks of damp, mud and men. There are dirty footprints running up and down the hallway, all different shapes and sizes.

Pip barrels through our legs, darting all over the place and grunting unhappily at all the damage.

“Do you think it’s safe here?” Winnie asks, her bravado from the car fading fast.

“Probably not,” I confess. “But I’m guessing those looking for me think I’m long gone and unlikely to return. I’m probably safer here than in Los Magicos.”

“Hmmm,” Winnie says, observing the way the couch has been slashed and all its stuffing pulled out. “Who would do that?” she mutters.

“Assholes,” I say.

“Yeah, assholes.” She follows me through to the kitchen. “So what are we looking for exactly?”

“My aunt’s locket.”

“Right. Is it in a jewelry box or something? Or would she have hidden it somewhere safe?”

“She’s wearing it,” I say, walking towards the larder.

Winnie is quiet and when I peer over my shoulder at her, I see the color has drained from her cheeks and she’s doing that blinking thing.

“Wearing it?” she mumbles.

“Yes.”

“But … but … she’s dead.”

“Yeah, she was buried wearing it.”

“Oh jeez,” Winnie says, slumping onto the nearest chair. “Are you proposing we … we …”

“Dig her up?” I say, casually, pulling out all the tins and jars from the larder shelf. I didn’t search this place thoroughly enough after she died. It never occurred to me that she might have left me information. I was too busy surviving and grieving to consider anything other than how I’d feed myself, Pip and the chickens each day. Now I’m going to check every single hiding place I can possibly imagine. “No, she’s buried in the cemetery on the edge of the town. I think if we turned up there with shovels and started shifting earth, we’d draw too much attention to ourselves.”

“You don’t say.” Winnie picks up one of the jars from the table and holds it up to the light, examining the contents. “This looks like Trixie leaves. It’s really difficult to grow. My grandma tries every year.”

“Take it, if you think it will be useful. Take anything you think will be useful.”

Winnie nods and starts dragging the other jars towards her.

“So, how are we going to get the necklace then?”

“I don’t know.” To her credit, Winnie doesn’t curse at me this time. “But there must be a way.”

“She’s buried. Underground. And I assume she’s in a casket.”

“Yeah.”

“Then I don’t see–”

“There must be a way, Winnie.” I grin at her. “We’re witches, bitch.”

“Not the best though, are we?”

“Bullshit, Winnie. That security spell you did on our room was amazing. And I’ve seen you in class. Holding back when you know the answer. Pretending to make a mistake when you’ve already completed the task like half an hour before anyone else.”

Winnie blushes. “Summer doesn’t exactly like competition.”