Page 70 of A Lullaby for Witches

At Leo’s dubious expression, Margaret continued. “She didn’t eat, she didn’t enjoy anything. She could barely stand up for herself.”

“I don’t believe that,” Leo said. “Augusta might have had her demons, but I never would have let her do this if I’d known.”

“But it wasn’t your decision, was it? It was Augusta’s. She is my blood, and I am hers. She lives through me now.”

“So that’s it? You’re just going to live her life now? What are you going to tell her family?”

Margaret pursed her lips. “I don’t know. I suppose they’ll think she moved away.”

“I see,” he said curtly. “Can she hear me? Is she in there somewhere? Augusta,” he said, raising his voice as if he were trying to yell at someone over a poor phone connection, “if you can hear me, you have to stay strong. My mom said you have to keep yourself separate.” He gave her a stony look. “Did she hear that?”

“Oh, Leo, I don’t know,” Margaret said, even though she knew very well. “Would you really like to speak to her? To say goodbye?”

What was she talking about? Would she do that?Couldshe do that?

Leo had the same questions. “What do you mean? What does that entail?”

“Bring me back to Harlowe House. You’ll see for yourself that this was what she wanted, and you’ll be able to say goodbye.”

“How will I know that it’s her?”

“You really don’t think you’ll know the woman you love?”

Even in the dark, Augusta could see his face flood with color. “I never said I—”

Margaret let out a laugh. “Please. Why waste your earthly breaths on denying it?”

Oh, Leo. She had no heart to be bruised or broken, but she felt her very soul crack open. The rest of the ride was silent until they pulled up outside of Harlowe House. Thick cloud banks obscured the moon, throwing the house into sinister profile. She couldn’t believe that Margaret would really let her speak to Leo, not when she would just scream for help and refute everything that Margaret had said. Which meant that whatever was about to transpire was not going to be good.

39

Margaret

My house looms into view, the silhouette which has withstood the decades with grace and dignity, comforting in its timelessness. I may have a body now, but my house will always be home to my soul, my pain and love and life painted into every wall, my being reflected in every window.

Phebe warned me against the darker shades of magic, but there can be no light without darkness. It will be better this way. Augusta and Leo, together, and Jack and I together at last.

The rustling of paper-dry leaves in the wind guides me up the steps. The air crackles with electricity, cold and sharp. A storm is coming. Behind me, Leo’s footsteps are slow and heavy. I turn, giving him a reassuring smile. Like a lamb led to slaughter, he follows.

Any guilt I might feel is quickly eclipsed by apprehension. I have never attempted anything on this scale before. What if it doesn’t work? What if it does work, but not in the right way? The promise of coming face-to-face with Jack sustains me, and I usher Leo inside and up to the third floor a little faster.

I remove the books from their hiding place and pat my pocket, making certain that I still have Jack’s box and the pouch with his bones. I briefly consider performing the ceremony in the attic, but think better of it. My powers will be stronger outside in the woods with the ocean at my back and the moon in my hair.

“Come,” I tell Leo, as I lead him back outside.

“Where are we going?” he asks.

“Just a little farther. We need the moonlight to perform the ceremony.”

Leo plants his feet in the ground. “Ceremony?”

“Yes, it’s nothing to be frightened of. I just need to be able to concentrate, to make certain that I can channel her.”

“And you swear that I’ll be able to talk to Augusta?” I can hear the doubt in his voice.

“I swear.”

He doesn’t want to trust me, that much is plain. But his feelings for Augusta must win out, because he grudgingly falls into step behind me.

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