But when she turned around, all she saw was her mother escaping through the front door. In a voice suddenly falsely sweet, Fern called out a greeting to the person in the car waiting for her.
Nor tripped over her feet in her haste to follow. She could see that it was a man in the car, his posture stiff and unnatural. From that distance, what Nor couldn’t see were the parts of her that had come from him — the slope of her nose, the shape of her mouth. He had blond hair, like her mother. Nor’s hair was dark and thick, like Judd’s.
Without another word, Fern took Nor’s father away from her, racing toward the ferry dock as if the island might lock itself down before Fern could make her exit.
Nor wasn’t sure what to do next. So she waited. She waited for the dust of the retreating car to settle. She waited for the ferry to pull away and for its bright lights to fade into the dark.
She waited, and with her little heart breaking, she thought of all the time she spent waiting — waiting for someone to notice her, waiting for someone to care whether she was sick or hungry. Or scared.
Finally, from the opposite direction, she saw a tiny pinprick of light approach. It grew larger and larger until she recognized it as the glow from the end of a pipe.
A formidable woman peered down at Nor. “Well, let’s go then, girlie,” she said.
Nor sniffed and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. “Where are we going?”
“Home.”
“Home?”
“Yes. Apothia’s got your room all ready for you.”
“I have a room?” Nor asked, surprised.
Judd harrumphed. “Of course you have a room. It’s been waiting for you for almost ten years. I think that’s about long enough, don’t you?”
Nor nodded and placed her tiny hand in her grandmother’s large calloused one. And that was when Nor realized that someone else had been waiting as well.
But this time, that someone else had been waiting for her.
Nor woke to a cold gray October sky peering down at her through the skylight. After sticking her arm out from her cocoon of blankets, she blindly groped for her phone and peeked at its clock. She groaned. She was supposed to open the shop today, and she was already late.
Bijou enjoyed the warmth of the blankets while she got up and threw on an oversize black sweater and a pair of jeans. The jeans had seen better days, and she promptly caught her foot on a frayed tear in one of the knees, ripping an even larger hole in the worn fabric.
A few minutes later, a piece of slightly burned marmalade toast in each hand, Nor hurried down Meandering Lane toward the Witching Hour.
She found a group of impatient customers waiting for her on the front steps — Savvy was first in line. Her lime-green Afro puffed out around her head like a dandelion clock. She was eating a gooey, frosted cinnamon bun. “You’re late,” she scolded cheerfully as she chewed.
“What are all these people doing here?” Nor muttered. There was always an increased number of sightseers in October — it was the last chance for whale watching — but today it seemed unusually busy, especially for a Tuesday morning. With growing anxiety, Nor worried it had nothing to do with the migrating whales.
“So you don’t know,” Savvy said.
“Don’t know what?” Nor opened the door to the shop, nearly toppling a display of her mother’s book. The candles and colorful flowers arranged around it brought to mind a shrine, as did the way the customers all flocked to it.
“Nor, you have to get a new phone.” Savvy sighed. “You’re living in the dark ages.”
“I like my phone.”
“Your phone is complete shit.”
“That’s why I like it,” Nor grumbled. “What’s the big deal anyway?”
“The big deal is that some famous YouTuber endorsed your mother’s book. Hence” — Savvy gestured to the crowded store — “all of this.”
“And what did this YouTuber say?”
“Basically, she bought a spell from your mother’s book, just for the hell of it. But it turns out the spell worked — she had this horrible scar on her leg from some accident she was in as a child, and it completely disappeared! In seconds! Like poof! Gone. Can you believe it?”
A lump formed in Nor’s throat. The scars on her wrists and elbows began to hum, and she tried not to think about the pair of scissors in the drawer underneath the counter. Could she believe it? Of course she could. Nor was quite certain her mother could cause snakes to fall from the sky if she wanted.
Savvy picked up a copy of Fern’s book and flipped through the pages. “Is it true?” she asked. “Could your mom really do this?”
Nor glanced at the page Savvy was tapping with her bright-yellow fingernail. Her heart sank; that page featured the Resurrection Spell.
“Please don’t tell me you think this is anything but bullshit,” Nor said.
Savvy’s eyes suddenly narrowed. “So what if I do?”
Nor shrugged. “You’re too smart for that. Besides, even if my mom could do all of this — and I’m not saying she can — do you really think it would come without a cost?”
“I know it doesn’t,” Savvy said sarcastically. “There’s an actual price listed for each spell.”
“That’s not what I meant. The fact that you lost your mom doesn’t make you unique, Savvy. It makes you an easy target.” Nor regretted saying it as soon as the words had left her mouth.
“That was a cheap shot,” Savvy said quietly.
“You’re right, “Nor agreed quickly. She gently took the book from Savvy and set it to the side. “This book isn’t going to help anyone, Savvy. If anything, I think it’ll only exploit people’s pain. I don’t want that to happen to you.”
I don’t want my mom to hurt you, too.
Savvy nodded and stared wistfully at the book on the counter. “Do you think your mom would have given me a discount? What with me being your best friend and all?”
“For that she’d probably charge you double.” Nor pushed a few dollar bills at Savvy. “I think we need caffeine,” she said. “My treat?”
“Okay,” Savvy said. “But you’re buying me breakfast, too.”
“What about that cinnamon bun you just ate?” Nor asked.
“That was just a snack.” Savvy gave Nor a small smile before leaving the shop. Somehow it made Nor feel even worse.
Why did I say that about her mom? Nor thought. She balled her hand into a fist until her nails bit into her palm. Nor remembered watching her grandmother try to help Savvy’s mom. Judd’s hands had been covered in tiny quills and with wisps of Lisbet Dawson’s blond hair, but whatever had made her ill had been far stronger than Judd’s magic.
Once the store had quieted down a little, Nor opened her mother’s book to the Resurrection Spell. From what Nor had heard, it brought people back from the dead, but what they came back as could hardly be called human. They were more like nightmares walking around in some loved one’s skin. Nor shuddered to imagine what Savvy’s mom might look like if she were brought back: the color leeched from her hair and skin, her eyes dead and cold, her tongue black.
Nor quickly shut the book. If Fern really could cast the Resurrection Spell, she doubted that whoever requested it knew what they were getting.
Over the next few weeks, the success of The Price Guide to the Occult expanded at terrifying speed. The YouTuber’s endorsement was followed by rave reviews and talk show appearances. Everywhere Nor looked, it seemed, there was her mother, the beautiful woman who could make wishes come true. All the reviewers, the guest bloggers, and everyone who sent in the required fee for a desired spell confirmed that Fern Blackburn was the real deal. The Price Guide to the Occult working miracles was the only thing anyone wanted to talk about.
On the evening of Halloween, Nor marched down Meandering Lane after her shift at the Witching Hour. The street was filled with trick-or-treaters. Parents with strollers raced after tiny goblins and ghouls, pirates and princesses. The kids filled their tote bags wi
th pumpkin cookies from the Sweet and Savory Bakery, popcorn balls from the Willowbark General Store, and chocolate bars from the co-op. Strangely, a large bowl of sour candies had been left outside Theo’s mechanic shop. Savvy, the self-proclaimed Queen of Halloween who had spent three weeks constructing a papier-mâché head for her sea horse costume last year, was nowhere to be seen.
The cold October air felt crisp in Nor’s lungs. The sun had already set. If Judd were out, the porch light would be on. The light was off, which meant, for the first time in days, Judd was at home. Lately, the number of late-night phone calls that drew Judd out for hours at a time had increased; it sometimes seemed as though Nor and Apothia lived alone in that great tower. It was difficult not to feel Judd’s absence; she was a woman who took up a great deal of space.
Judd was taking Fern’s ascent to fame as well as expected, which meant she was not taking it well at all. She had gotten particularly irate after reading a glowing blog post about The Price Guide to the Occult, and now the keys on Apothia’s laptop looked like broken teeth. After that, Apothia had put a ban on any mention of Fern or the book.
Though an argument between Judd and Fern wasn’t anything Nor wanted to witness personally, she was certain that should it come to that, her mother would be no match for the Giantess. At least that was what she kept telling herself.
Besides noticing the porch light, Nor saw a familiar turquoise Vespa in the driveway, a matching helmet resting on the seat. She could hear Bijou and Antiquity barking inside the house, but it wasn’t the dogs that greeted her at the door. It was Savvy. Her lilac hair extensions hung sleekly down one shoulder; the color made for a pretty contrast to her reddish-brown skin.
“What are you doing here?” Nor asked. “You know I don’t celebrate Halloween.”
“Which is why we’re not celebrating Halloween.” Savvy smiled that conspiratorial smile of hers and moved to the side.
The dining room had been completely transformed. A rich tapestry covered the table. Each place had been set with Apothia’s fine china, delicately painted with dragons and songbirds and tiny teahouses. There were goblets edged in rose gold, white pumpkins, and tiny bouquets of marigolds and chrysanthemums and gerbera daisies. Fairy lights swung gently from the ceiling, and the light from dozens of candles danced across the walls.
“You have Savannah to thank for all this,” Apothia said, nodding toward Savvy. “It was her idea.”
“Think of it as a way of making up for all those birthdays you haven’t let us celebrate,” Savvy scolded. “All those missed birthday cakes. Such a damn shame.”
Having never gotten accustomed to celebrating her birthdays — Fern wasn’t really the type of mother for balloons and birthday cake — Nor had been planning on spending the evening of her seventeenth birthday doing what she did every year. Absolutely nothing.
“Turning seventeen isn’t that big a deal,” Nor said.
“Well, we won’t be able to throw you a party next year,” Savvy said. “You’ll be eighteen, so you’ll be too busy voting. And buying cigarettes. And going to jail after committing a felony.”
“That should be one hell of a birthday,” Apothia said.
Nor smiled and looked around. “Will Judd be here tonight?” she asked.
Apothia nodded. “Of course. She helped me with the cake.”
Sitting in the middle of the table was a cake unlike any other cake Nor had ever seen. A layer of raspberry jam was spread between each of its three tiers, and it had been not just topped with frosting, but drizzled with honey and candied figs. Whoever made it certainly had a much more delicate touch and discerning eye than Judd. “No, she didn’t,” Nor said.
“Well, no, she didn’t,” Apothia admitted. “But that’s really for the best, don’t you think?”
Nor nodded, distracted suddenly by the suspiciously high number of place settings around the table. “Who else did you invite?”
“People,” Savvy answered quickly. She splayed her tiny hands across Nor’s back and pushed her up the stairs. “Now, enough with the questions. You’ll ruin my surprise!”
As soon as Nor’s bedroom door closed behind them, Savvy dropped to the floor and rummaged through the hot-pink backpack she had carried up with her.
Nor waited for a moment before asking, “This surprise isn’t like, Surprise, you have to wear a costume, is it? You know I don’t do costumes.”
“It hurts me every time you say that,” Savvy said. “But no, we will not be donning costumes this year.”
“Then what will we be doing?”
“It’s your birthday,” Savvy said, pulling a yellow corset out of the backpack. “It’s your birthday, and while I know costumes are verboten, you are still not wearing” — she pointed to Nor — “that.”
Nor looked down: ripped jeans and mud-splattered combat boots. Her hair was certainly its usual mess. Then she looked at Savvy: lilac unicorn mane, stud-encrusted sweater dress, thigh-high lace-up boots. If Nor had to pinpoint who between them had magic in her blood, she’d pick Savvy over herself in a heartbeat. “Good point.”
“It’s like you’re allergic to color,” Savvy muttered, flipping quickly through Nor’s closet. She paused briefly at a strapless bustier dress she’d bought Nor the previous year, certain that by doing so she could somehow coax her into wearing it, and gave Nor a hopeful glance.
“Not a chance in hell.”
Savvy sighed and returned to her backpack. Nor watched in amazement as Savvy pulled out one oddity after another: ripped lace leggings. Fingerless gloves. A mesh halter top.
Nor picked up a pair of discarded leather hot pants. “Are you sure I can’t just wear something I already own? Something I actually wear?”
From her backpack, Savvy took out a transparent platform shoe with a plastic goldfish floating in the heel. “If Goth ever becomes fashionable again, you’ll be the first person I call. For now, though —” Savvy looked into the bag again. “Ha!” she said triumphantly, and yanked something out.
It was a blue velvet slip dress with tiny spaghetti straps, the blue so dark it almost looked black. Almost. It was also beautiful and feminine and unlike anything Nor had ever worn before, which, judging from the expression on Savvy’s face, was entirely the point.
“It’s pretty,” Nor admitted. “But —”
Savvy quickly dug through Nor’s closet and took out a long black cardigan. “With this thrown over it? What do you think?”
“Does it really matter what I’m wearing?”
“Trust me. It matters,” Savvy said. “I might have invited my very good friend Grayson. And he might be bringing his brother along. Who might be, you know, your almost lover, Reed Oliveira.”
“What?” Nor balked. “You’re sure they’re coming? Both of them?”
“Surprise,” Savvy said, and held up the dress.
Nor scowled, but snatched it out of her friend’s hand.
When she slipped it over her head, she found the hem stopped a few inches above her knee. It was short, but for something they had pulled out of her petite friend’s wardrobe, it wasn’t nearly as short as Nor had been expecting. She quickly slid on the sweater, thankful that its sleeves were long enough to cover her wrists. With expert hands, Savvy twisted Nor’s wild waist-long hair into loose curls that extended down her back, and then lined her eyes in shimmery black.
“This is going to be so great,” Savvy said resolutely.
Nor sighed quietly. How could anything be great when Nor could practically feel her mother’s breath on the back of her neck? Anything that even slightly resembled happiness seemed dangerous, as if cloaking herself in misery was the only way she could protect herself from the dark gloom of her mother’s lurking shadow. For Nor, feeling happy felt like being a glaring target. Feeling happy meant that she had something to lose.
“Look, Nor, I love you, but you’re not exactly the easiest person to get to know.” Savvy stared at Nor and drummed her purple-lacquered nails against her lips.
“I swear, sometimes it’s like you have the ability to turn yourself invisible.”
Nor grimaced. She slipped on her combat boots, hiding the scars on her ankles. Yes, that was exactly what she did. Not on purpose. It just happened sometimes.
“But Reed Oliveira did notice you. And for once, we,” Savvy said, grabbing Nor’s arm and dragging her down the stairs, “and by we, I mean you, are going to take full advantage of that situation.”
“You notice me,” Nor grumbled.
Savvy turned back and smiled, the silver hoop in her eyebrow glinting merrily in the glow of the candles and fairy lights at the bottom of the stairs. “Yeah, but I’m nosy. I notice everything.”
Nor followed Savvy into the dining room and saw that a few of her guests had already arrived — including Reed. There was a part of her that was afraid that if she took even one step into the room, he’d disappear. Which would have been such a shame. He makes the rest of the world look like a watercolor painting, Nor thought. All blurred lines and swirling colors. She grimaced.
“Oh, get a grip, Nor,” she muttered, and forced herself down the stairs.
Fortunately for her, Reed didn’t disappear. Instead, he came over to her and fished a small box out of one of his pockets. “I didn’t know what to get you,” he explained, handing it to her.
“You didn’t have to get me anything,” Nor said.
“Yeah, he did,” Grayson called from across the room. He helped himself to a candied fig, then added, “What kind of loser shows up to a birthday party without a gift?”
“What did you bring?” Savvy shot back at Grayson.
“Nothing,” he admitted candidly, coming to stand with them. “But I’m not trying to impress anyone.”
Reed’s cheeks turned pink, and he smacked his brother on the side of the head. “Shut up, Grayson.”
Rubbing his head, Grayson looked over at Savvy and said, “He changed his shirt, like, four times.” Reed clocked him again. “Stop!”