House of Ivy & Sorrow

TEN





I’ve seen a man give up his ear for enough luck to save his family from foreclosure. I’ve seen a child sacrifice his sense of taste for three months to keep his dog from going to the pound. And I’ve seen a woman literally give up her right arm so her baby would live. But it’s not the same when I know the person. I’m not sure I can watch Kat go through pain. My stomach turns, and all Nana has done is hand her a bag of ice to get her finger as numb as possible before . . .

I’m so going to lose it.

“Why do we have to do this again?” I ask. “I trust Kat. I don’t need a binding spell to know she won’t tell.”

“It’s as much for her protection as it is for ours. Once she is bound, you will know if she’s in danger, and she’ll know if you are.” Nana drapes three necklaces over Kat’s head. “These are protection charms to dull the pain, speed healing, and prevent infection. Do not take them off until your nail has grown back.”

“Okay.” Kat puts a shaky hand to them. “Thank you.”

Nana goes back to her desk, reading from the book. “Now, Josephine, you sit across from Katherine. We will use your skin for our part of the deal.”

I raise an eyebrow. “Excuse me?”

She lets out a frustrated sigh. “This is a contract. We promise to protect her, and in return she promises to protect us as well. A nail to symbolize shielding, and a piece of flesh to represent the bond of protection. A fair trade.”

“Of course, should have known,” I say. “Where am I cutting and how much?”

Kat gulps. “This is so morbid.”

“This is magic. It’s not pretty.” Nana turns to me, setting down a small pair of gold scissors. “A dime-size piece should do, from wherever you’d like.”

“From wherever I’d like? You say it as if I’m excited to mutilate myself.” I look over my skin, trying to decide where to cut. Avoiding joints would be smart. It should probably be a place easily covered by clothes, so as not to draw attention. But then again, a good scar is always a conversation starter.

Nana rolls her eyes. “It’s hardly a scratch.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s get this over with.”

She scoots the pliers toward Kat and puts a copper bowl between us. “The offerings go in when I say. Katherine, you will be expected to remove the nail yourself.”

She nods, grabbing the pliers.

My mouth goes dry. As lovely as my part is in the spell, I want to trade. I don’t want her to do this. I want to knock her out and erase her memory and let her go along her merry way.

“Jo.”

I look up at Kat, who’s trying to smile. “Remember that time Colby Turner was ragging on me?”

“Yeah.” It was in third grade, during the worst of my awkward period. For some reason, my baby teeth stuck around forever, and I’d just lost my first front tooth. So I had this awful poofy hair, a face full of freckles, and a hillbilly gap. Most everyone called me Billy Jo.

Kat was a skeleton back then. Still is. The girl can take down a large pizza on her own, and nobody knows where it goes. Colby kept poking her where her spine stuck out when she hunched over. I don’t remember what I said to him, but I do remember it was the first time I cursed someone on my own.

I gave up seeing color for a week; he had the runs for a week.

“I learned something that day,” Kat says. “Let’s face it: Everyone made fun of you, and you know what? I never thought to stand up for you. I don’t think Gwen did either. We consoled you after, but we let it happen. And then you . . .” She looks down, seeming ashamed. “You stood up for me. You taught me how friends were supposed to act. So stop freaking out and let me be there for you, too.”

I sigh. “Fine.”

Nana tousles Kat’s short, dark hair. “You darling girl. How come you never bring your friends over, Josephine? They’re wonderful.”

“Uh, the witch thing?”

“Oh, right.” She goes back to her spell book, now propped on a stand. “Ash of the shepherd dog and golden eagle’s tears.”

It’s a very short reagent list, but eagle tears aren’t easy to get ahold of. Nana goes to the special cabinet behind her desk—the one with the most valuable and rare items. Then she grabs a bottle of ash from the shelves. She pours a little mound of the ash in the copper bowl, then drips four tears on top. As she holds her hand over the mixture, it liquefies into a silvery pool.

“The flesh to be protected,” she whispers.

Before I think too much, I’m cutting at my forearm. It definitely doesn’t feel good, but I try not to be a baby about it because it’s much easier than Kat’s part. Once I have the chunk, I place it in the bowl and it foams. Grabbing a bandage, I wait for the next part in a fit of nausea.

“The shield to protect.” Nana eyes Kat. “Do it quickly. Hesitation will only make it hurt more.”

Kat sucks in a breath, her tiny frame stretched as tall as it can go. She removes the ice from her left pinkie finger and clamps the pliers down. She closes her eyes. Her muscles flex.

That’s when I look away.

She screams once, and it’s cut short by a gasp of agony. Regardless of being cold and numb, it probably still hurt like hell. I look back just in time to see her place the nail in the bowl. Her finger gushes blood, and her hands tremble as she grasps the bandages. Her strained breathing fills the silence as we watch the liquid turn gold.

Nana holds up the bowl. “Drink, and become bound.”

I take the bowl and drink. “Huh, tastes like honeysuckle.”

“Really?” Kat says.

“Yeah. Go figure.”

She takes the bowl from me and sips. “Not bad.”

We freeze at the same time, so I figure she feels what I’m feeling. A warm sensation, like sunbathed grass, tickles at my legs. It fills in every piece of me, bit by bit, and by the time it gets to my head I’m keenly aware of Kat’s well-being. Her finger kills, but other than that she’s . . . happy. Definitely not in any danger.

She gasps. “Wow, it’s like ultra-sensitive intuition.”

“Yes.” Nana shuts the book. “Almost as strong as blood.”

I watch her, and all my instincts scream that she’s hiding something. Honestly, I don’t want to ask. Not now. There’s been enough trauma today. Which means, of course . . .

“Time for some pudding!”