Page 96 of She Haunts Me Still

And then, like a switch flipping in her brain, she remembers something that horrible voice growled from Ezra’s mouth—something that hadn’t made any sense at the time but is taking brand-new shape now.

Your mother must have thought she was so clever,he’d hissed.But you can’t escape our bond with a witch’s spell, girl.

“Oh my god,” she gasps, clawing at her hair. “Oh mygod.”

“What?” Saskia cries.

Mallory’s brain races faster than she can put the words together. “I need to find out if my mother knew any witches.”

“If your mom knew anywhat?”

Mallory lunges for her bag, snatching her cell phone. “My mom used to tell me this story about a magic house on an island—I thought we were just playing pretend. But maybe it was real. Maybe she was talking about an island in Narragansett Bay.” Mallory starts dialing Aunt Penelope’s number. “My mom was researching all the same things we are, right? If she came to the same conclusion, that her entire bloodline is cursed, what would be the next logical question?”

“How to break it,” Saskia says.

“Exactly,” Mallory says. “And who would you seek out if you needed to break a curse?”

“A…witch? Are witches even real?” Saskia frowns, shaking her head. “I’vebeento the Narragansett Bay islands. The main one—Prudence Island. There’s no witch colony; those are just weird Rhode Island legends.”

Mallory presses the phone to her ear. “If we’ve learned anything so far, it’s that every legend has a kernel of truth. Besides, Rebecca wasalsotrying to get in touch with a witch, remember? But her letter was never received.” She bites her lip. “Maybe my mom was more successful.”

“Okay, fine,” Saskia says. “Let’s say this happened. But the curse isn’tbroken. It just belongs to a different person.”

“I know.” Mallory listens to the phone ring and ring and ring. “Maybe it was a bad spell. Or maybe curses can’t be broken at all—maybe they can only be moved. Maybe curses, like demons, need a host.”

“But whyme?” Saskia says. “Why would your mom send a curse to a total stranger?”

“Maybe she didn’t know who would receive it,” Mallory guesses as Penelope’s voicemail clicks on. She slams the button on her phone, shoving a hand through her hair. “Damn it. I don’t know who else to ask. I don’t know any of my mom’s old friends. I didn’t knowherat all.”

The cold truth of it all hardens between her ribs. Her mother left behind nothing but a scattering of breadcrumbs. Mallory may never figure it out, may spend the rest of her life choking on goodbyes she’s not ready to say.

She flings her bag to the floor with a frustrated growl. The motion tips the tote on its side, spilling its contents. Her lip gloss. Keys.

And the manila folder with her mother’s medical records, the one she’s been keeping in her bag ever since Arden made that comment about her desk drawers.

Mallory is faintly aware of Saskia’s hand on her back as she reaches for it. She knows what she’ll find when she opens the folder: her mother’s medical history, the visit reports covered by thick black permanent marker.HURT HURT HURT HURT.

But this time, she sees something else. Peeking through the jagged ink.

A thin line of cursive, at the top of a health center visit report.

Jasmine was brought in today by her roommate, Ruth.

She glances back at the thick block letters, noticing the way they run into one another like the handwriting from the planchette, her mother’s grocery pad. Like something—someone—forced her hand.Lily.

She’s been trying to send a message this whole time.

Mallory studies the writing.H-U-R-T. But the letters, rearranged…R-U-T-H.

“Saskia,” she says, lowering the pages, “didn’t Professor Golden attend Shore? Around the same time my mom did?”

Saskia nods, frowning. “So?”

Mallory turns the papers toward her. “What’s Golden’s first name?”

Saskia glances down and then back at her, eyes wide—it’s a puzzle piece that finally fits, a map with a destination.

A key with a door.