House of Ivy & Sorrow by Natalie Whipple

Author:Natalie Whipple
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: HarperCollins
Published: 2014-09-10T04:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-SIX

I force myself not to panic, but I can’t stop wondering about how on earth the Carters ended up in Fanny’s house. Agatha did write that Fanny’s house was bound to a family. Maybe it was Winn’s.

But as I take in the spells, it seems impossible that any witch—let alone a normal human—could find this house and bind to it with such powerful barriers surrounding it. They are overwhelmingly strong, more so than any on our house. My head spins as it tries to decipher all the magic in the air.

“Jo?” Winn says.

I jump. “Huh?”

He seems really worried, like he thinks I might run and never come back. “Are you okay? You kind of spaced out a little.”

“Oh, I’m fine. I just . . . didn’t realize your house would be so beautiful inside.” It’s the truth. The simple beauty of the outside follows you in. White walls with striking, colorful art mirror the stained-glass windows. The soft navy blue area rugs mimic the shutters. The lush greens and browns bring the trees inside.

It’s magical.

“I’ve always liked it.” He tugs my hand, and I take a few steps forward only to stop again. A stunning array of old ceramic tiles covers the hall wall, carefully arranged so that it looks like a night sky with hundreds of colorful stars.

“That’s amazing.” I step closer. The pieces certainly don’t belong to one another, but are chips from something else. “Who made this?”

He shrugs. “It’s always been there. A lot of things have always been here. They’re so beautiful that there’s no reason to change them.”

I touch the tiles, imagining Fanny herself putting them up. My fingers turn hot and then numb, and my wonderings are proved right. This is one massive spell—a spell of hiding, like a star among many. This is why Nana and I haven’t found this place right under our noses. I can’t make out all the complexities, but it seems like only those bound to the house can bring people in. So there’s no way someone could have murdered Fanny unless . . .

Did Winn’s ancestors do it? Maybe she let them in to give them a spell, and they attacked her. But surely she would have defended herself.

“Winn?” His mother’s voice echoes down the hall. “Is that you?”

“Yeah.” He squeezes my hand once. “Don’t be nervous. She’ll love you.”

I am nervous, but not for the reasons he thinks. “I hate your confidence—makes it so much easier to disappoint.”

He shakes his head. “C’mon.”

We pass by the spiral staircase and through a swinging door, which opens to a rustic kitchen, the old woodstove still in place. To our right is the living room, where a TV gives off the only light to see his parents by.

They look normal and non-magical, hanging out on the couch after a long week. Mr. Carter is a total farmer, hard work written in every line on his face. Winn’s mother’s grin is warm, and her hair matches Winn’s sandy color exactly. I try

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