Spells for Forgetting(93)

The question immediately surfaced on his face. Why was August’s stuff at my house? What was he doing there? But he didn’t ask.

“Someone left a note saying if he didn’t leave, they were going to turn in evidence about Lily. He was looking into the orchard and—”

My father’s hardened gaze settled on me.

“What?”

“You told him? About the deed?” he said, realizing it.

I didn’t answer. There was no way around it. I’d chosen August over him. And I’d do it again.

“He’s looking into the orchard?”

“Yes.”

His expression changed as he dropped the pliers on the table.

“Dad? What is it?”

His lips pressed together in a hard line and he stared at me for a moment before he stalked past me, toward the kitchen. I watched as he picked the phone up off the wall and dialed with heavy fingers. He kept his back turned to me as it rang, but after a few moments, he hung up. His hand didn’t leave the receiver as he stared at the floor, thinking. When he picked it up again, he dialed a different number. Still, no answer. After the third try, he slammed the phone down, heading for the fireplace.

“Where are you going?”

He went to the cabinet against the far wall, opening it with a steady hand. I watched as he pulled his rifle from inside.

“Dad?”

He was already shrugging on his jacket. I followed him to the road and he watched me over the hood of the truck before he opened the driver’s-side door. “I can talk to them.”

Them. So, I’d been right. This wasn’t as simple as a jealous Dutch or a vengeful Jake. My dad knew exactly what was happening here.

“What’s going on?”

He didn’t answer, climbing inside and setting the rifle against his leg. When I was settled beside him, he turned the key and reversed without even so much as a glance in the mirror.

This wasn’t about Lily. Maybe it had never been.

This was about the orchard.





Fifty-Six


    SAOIRSE ISLAND


3:36 p.m.

The flash of Lily Morgan’s flaxen hair flit through the trees like a fire spark as she ran.

There was a storm on the horizon. The smell of it seeped through the humid air, filling it with the sweetness of the oncoming summer. But it wouldn’t reach the island in near enough time.

The front of her graduation dress was still unbuttoned, slipped over one shoulder, and the sound of her cries was broken and muffled, lost to the wind that snaked through the trees.

The burn was still there, alive on her lips, where she’d pressed her mouth against August’s throat. He’d smelled like the wild thyme that grew along the rows of apple trees. He’d tasted like salt.

Another broken cry escaped her lips as she remembered it, clumsily pulling the dress closed with trembling fingers. In the next moment, he’d shoved her away, and the look in his eye had been the moment that the blade of knowing had twisted in her gut. More than every time she’d watched him touch Emery. More than every time he’d looked away when he caught her staring.

She had always been the pretty one and both she and Emery had known it. But Emery had been the kind one. The good one. And for as long as Lily had wanted August, all he’d ever wanted was Emery Blackwood.

Albertine’s house appeared in the trees ahead and Lily stopped, watching the windows. Almost everyone on the island was either at the pub or getting ready for the party at the orchard. But there was still time to fix this.

The door wasn’t locked because it never was. Lily let herself in, walking straight across the living room, to the fireplace. There, The Blackwood Book of Spells sat on the mantel.

It was the only book of its kind on the island. Most families had a spell book that was passed from one daughter to the next, but not like this one. The Blackwood Book of Spells was a complete and sprawling chronicle that went back for generations. And while some families had torn out the pages of dark magic in their books, the Blackwoods hadn’t.

When Lily and Emery were children, they’d pore over the spells by firelight, reading them together. And she knew exactly the one she needed.

Lily pulled the book into her arms and sat on the floor, opening the heavy cover. The pages greeted her with the familiar smell of lavender and cedar. She scanned the handwritten words for the one she was looking for—Sailor’s Scourge. It would have to look like an accident, and Emery wouldn’t be the first person on this island to drown.

The thought put a pit in her stomach, but she swallowed it down. She was only doing what she had to. What the island wanted.

When she found it, she quickly copied the spell word for word onto the crumpled notebook paper she’d brought with her. But when the back screen door screeched, Lily’s heart stopped beating.

Slowly, her eyes lifted to see Albertine’s shadow on the kitchen floor. It didn’t move as the door slammed behind her.

“Hello?” Her raspy voice echoed through the house. “Who’s there?”

Lily lifted the paper from the book and closed it as quietly as she could before she got back to her feet. Albertine appeared at the end of the hallway, her ear turned toward the living room. Her gardening gloves were clutched in one hand, and the other followed the wall as she took a tentative step forward.