Page 84 of Witches of Honeysuckle House

“I wouldn’t have,” Evie said. Then, she paused, and with a sigh said, “I might have.” She’d been so caught up in trying to get everyone to believe her efforts to break the curse had worked, that anything having to do with it could’ve set her off. “I still don’t understand why you think the house killed Tillie Grey.”

“The police reports—” Florence started.

“Called the house a murderer?” Evie asked.

“Well, no, but—” Florence tried again.

“You’re just as in the dark as I am,” Evie interrupted again.

“If you would let me talk,” Florence said, then paused, eyebrows arched.

“Sorry,” Evie said. “It’s just … this is Honeysuckle House we’re talking about.”

“The house was there for every death,” Florence said. “It could’ve told us how the curse started a long time ago, but it never did.”

“For all we know, Mom was the one who locked those journals away.” Evie was still unable to view the house as a killer, even though she knew it had hidden at least one of the diaries from Evie.

“Not the journals,” Florence said. “Ink & Pages showed us a memory of Regina and Violet at the shop, back when it was still Grey’s Gifts. I lit a candle, and it came to life in the smoke. If it could do that, then why couldn’t Honeysuckle House do the same?”

The house communicated with them in all sorts of ways, but it had never used smoke, at least not as far as Evie knew.

“I wasn’t sure why the memory was important, so I did a tarot reading that pointed us to the house. The curse, the deaths, all of itgoes back to Honeysuckle House,” Florence continued. “If we want to fix it, we have to start there.”

“How? By burning it to the ground?” Evie’s voice came out sharp and pointed, but her sister didn’t even flinch.

“If that’s what it takes,” Florence said.

Behind them, Honeysuckle House shuddered.

“No!” Clara said. “We can’t hurt the house.”

Evie rested a hand on her daughter’s head and said, “Clara’s right. Even if the housedidcause the curse, we’re not going to undo it by tearing it down. We have to find a way to bind the magic making it kill—like mom was trying to do.”

“If that’s even what the spell was for,” Florence said.

“You can look at it yourself,” Evie replied. “Maybe you’ll see something I didn’t.”

“If you had showed it to me—” Florence started, but Evie held up a hand.

“We’ve both made mistakes,” Evie said. “There’s no point punishing each other for them. I need to call tomorrow’s guests and let them know the bed and breakfast is closed.”

“And actually talk to the festival council?” Angela asked, her tone both gentle and admonishing.

Evie winced. “I was planning to talk to them if the spell didn’t work.”

“Well,” Florence said, arms crossed. “It didn’t work.”

“I am very aware of that,Florence.” Evie said her sister’s name with a certain sharpness. “I’m not going to let anyone get hurt here. I never was.”

“You were going to hold the festival,” Florence countered.

“And now the house has caught fire twice and a beam fell and almost crushed my girlfriend,” Evie said the words without thinking, but as soon as they left her mouth, they felt right. More right than anything had felt in a long time.

“Wait,” Florence said. “You and Angela …?”

Angela stiffened beside Evie, and a new sort of doubt crept up on her.

“I didn’t mean to say anything.” Evie said the words fast, wishing she could take them back, that she hadn’t put a name on what had started between them before it ever had a chance to grow. “I don’t even know if that’s what you want.”