How to Hang a Witch by Adriana Mather

Author:Adriana Mather
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House Children's Books
Published: 2016-07-26T04:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

* * *

Love and Arrows

I turn to the last page of my grandmother’s research notebook. “Nothing new in this one, either,” I say to Elijah, who has a stack of diaries in front of him from historical collections and people’s attics.

“Research is not instantaneous and must be built piece by piece. Quick does not mean good. That perspective will impair your perception. You will miss something.”

Easier said than done when my dad’s life is at risk. “What about Mrs. Meriwether? She knew my grandmother really well. Better than anyone. Maybe there’s something that my grandmother didn’t write down? Something that Mrs. Meriwether knows?”

“Possibly. However, speaking with her will only yield results if you are direct.”

“Were you listening when I went to her house the other day?”

He looks disapproving. Great. That means he heard me with Jaxon. How embarrassing. I’m already awkward enough without some attractive dead dude overhearing everything I say. I may never toot again.

I flip through a journal I’ve already read to see if there’s something I missed. “Do you think my grandmother’s drawings could be of any significance? They’re in the margins, and she doesn’t say anything specific about them.”

“Perhaps. Let me see.”

I hand the notebook to Elijah.

He studies it, and his brow furrows. “Are there more?”

“Yes, but they’re all similar versions of a woman with long wavy hair seen from behind.”

He turns the pages of the notebook. “None that show a face?”

“No, why?”

“You should ask Mrs. Meriwether.”

“Is there something strange about it?”

“It is better to ask too many questions than not enough.”

I agree, but I think he might be omitting some detail. “Okay. I’m gonna go over there.”

He nods, and continues reading. I pull my hair up into a ponytail as I make my way through the passage. When I enter the library, the light outside is already dimming. I need to find the Descendants once the sun goes down.

“Well, there you are. Where’ve you been all day?” Vivian asks as I walk to the side door.

“Here.”

“I looked for you earlier and couldn’t find you.”

I did hear her calling, but had no desire to answer. “Must’ve been on a walk.”

She looks unsure. “Must have.”

“I’m going next door.”

“Okay.” She checks her gold watch. “Just be back by seven for dinner. I’ve ordered a ridiculous amount of French food.”

“Oh.” The word catches in my throat. An image of a younger Vivian snapping that picture at the Parisian café flashes through my mind. Since my dad and I met her, French cuisine has been a bonding food for the three of us, something that is just ours. We always have it on special nights, like when my dad comes home from a long trip, or for the first snowfall in winter.

“I know you were sad about not seeing your dad today. I thought this might cheer you up. And we can have our chat. You might faint when you see how many desserts I got.”

It’s painful to watch her be nice after seeing that bill this morning. “Gotta go,” I say, swallowing my sadness.

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