If she could have her way, Sadie would have woven a garland of four-leaf clovers and worn them around her neck. She would have swallowed essence of nightshade if only she could close off the world around her and sleep in a silence where bad news would knock but never get in. Part of her still wanted to wake up tomorrow and believe that this was all a lie. That she could go on with her routine as she had done for years. But life had gotten its roots into her and she was growing, one way or another. So instead of covering her ears with a pillow the way she wanted to, she nodded.
“I promise I’ll do my best.” She swallowed hard and pinched her eyes shut.
“That’s my girl,” Gigi smiled, taking Sadie’s hand in her own and squeezing it. “Now, there’s a mixing bowl in the cupboard above the microwave. Get it and sprinkle what’s in it around the perimeter of the house and garden,” Gigi said.
“Salt and pennyroyal oil,” Sadie said, and Gigi nodded.
“Something wicked is on the wing. It’s trying to get in, and I aim to stop it. At least for a little while longer.”
Sadie wanted to swat the omen off the way you’d smack a flea, but it stuck to her skin like flypaper. She looked out the window, and as she watched, right at the tree line, a mist creeped along the ground, spreading like snow and sending an icy chill through Sadie’s heart.
Fog on a clear night meant someone was waiting for death.
The next morning, Sadie quietly opened Gigi’s door, peering in and staring at her sleeping form, tiny under the covers. One more day and the herbs would be ready. With a soft click that echoed through her heart, she closed the door and went for a run.
Sadie hated running. Her own form of punishment. But it was one of the only ways to get the anxiety out. Every strike of her foot against the pavement brought another worried thought.
Jake.
Gigi.
Seth.
She was sprinting without meaning to now.
My damn curse. All I want. Is a simple. Relationship.
All I want. Is. Love.
She let the thoughts flow through her, burn their way to the soles of her feet, where her shoes left black imprints on the sidewalk. Fold, fold, fold. Tuck them all away. She felt like Elsa. Control it. Conceal. Don’t feel.
The stitch in her side forced her to stop. Her calves cramping, she doubled over with her hands on her knees. Slowing to a jog, she reached the café where Gail was already serving customers. When Sadie walked in, she silently pointed to a tall glass of lemon and cucumber water.
“Saw you comin’ from down the street,” Gail said. “I never seen someone runnin’ with a scowl on their face.” She laughed, and despite everything, the sound made Sadie smile as she tied an apron around her waist.
“I’m just going to slip in the back and pull some things out to thaw.”
Now that she’d caught her breath, she let the comfort of the café close in around her. Bill was sitting by the window, with a cup of coffee and a pomegranate éclair.
“How’s your grandmother?” he asked the second he saw her.
“She’s well, Bill. Thank you.” She hated the dark circles under his eyes and the way his concern sat on his skin like a layer of dust.
“I was going to send flowers.” He cleared his throat. “But I thought she’d hate that. I know she doesn’t like people fussing.”
“She would absolutely hate it.” Sadie smiled. “And you should absolutely send them. Better yet, drop them off yourself. She likes sunflowers.”
His smile lit up his eyes.
The old ladies in their neon joggers were gossiping at a table in the middle. Lavender waved from a corner table, and Lace beckoned her over. As Sadie got closer, she saw that Lavender only had one earring in, and mismatched socks with her tan leather ankle boots. She was all soft curves and dreamy colors. Lace, meanwhile, was military precision. Her black bangs were ruler straight, and her Doc Martens polished to a high shine.
“Have you seen anything?” Lace asked her as Sadie got closer.
“You don’t have to answer that,” Lavender said to Sadie before frowning at her sister.
“Something is off, and I’m trying to figure out if it has to do with the Grand Revel or with”—she paused, eyes squinting at Sadie like she was trying to pierce through the veil—“whatever is going on with the Revelare family,” she finished.
“The Grand Revel isn’t for five months” Sadie said with surprise. And honestly, she had completely forgotten about the party that was set to take place at Cavendish Inn. Every seven years, the seven founding families of Poppy Meadows got together for a weeklong celebration, complete with a masquerade, tasks, riddles, and games.