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Joy arranged her face into a sort-of smile. “I’ll just be a minute. Don’t leave the garden—promise?”
“I’m not going anywhere, don’t worry.”
When Joy didn’t budge, Eilidh added, “I promise.”
Joy nodded and crossed the lawn, a strange mix of numbness and riotous emotion making her stomach roil. As soon as she was out of sight, she crumpled.
She walked back to the front of the house if only so she could collapse out of sight of Eilidh. A pained sound rose, but Joy pushed her hand against her mouth and held it back.
TWENTY-ONE
JOY
It was all too much—finding the dead girl, being locked up, thinking she would be executed, Gabi coming home, and now this: the body belonging to Eilidh’s cousin.
It took a long, long time for Joy to get herself under control, standing under the porch next to a tinkling wind chime of sea glass. Dragging a hand over her face a last time, Joy straightened and, as if she was walking into hell itself, opened her front door.
She braced for the night to get even worse as she made her way to the kitchen, every step tightening that pressure on her chest. Not even the woodsy scent of her new decorations took the darkness from her mood.
Joy found her coven waiting for her, worried and paler than usual. Not still in the spell, not reliving a murder. Not even discussing the brutal details of it. Just standing there, staring into space, silent. Even Salma looked sickened.
“How is she?” Gus asked, looking past the lacy curtain on the window to where Eilidh sat on the bench. His voice was a wretched thing, empty of any humour.
“Better than she should be,” Joy answered quietly, robotically crossing the room and flicking on the kettle. The cold from outside had seeped into her bones and all she knew in that split second was a memory of her mum sayingthere’s no ache a cup of tea can’t soothe.
Maybe Eilidh had the right idea with hot chocolate, Joy thought as she reached for the tub of cocoa.
“Are you alright?” she asked, masking her emotions. “Eilidh told me what you saw.”
Everyonehad kept this from her—all of them. They hadn’t thought Joy could cope with knowing the body was Eilidh’s cousin. As if she was weak. As if she hadn’t survived losing her dad, then her mum, and then Gabi.
“We’re fine,” Salma said, attempting to soothe her as she dropped into a seat at the table, her brown fingers knitted into a knot.
“I’m not fragile,” Joy replied, harsher than she’d intended. “I won’t break.”
It felt good to say it out loud, even if she’d rather do anything else than fight with her coven.
“What?” Salma blurted in shock.
“Of course you won’t break,” Victoriya said, lacking her usual sharpness.
“You should have told me about Eilidh’s cousin,” Joy said firmly, and turned to look at Salma, at Gus and Victoriya and Maisie.
Gus dropped his gaze to the floor, but Victoriya heaved a rough breath and asked, “When? When you were locked up? Or after, when you’d just got out of a jail cell? When was the right time, Joy?”
Joy shook her head, trying to be angry so it would fill the widening hole inside her. She turned back to the hot chocolate, tipping sugar into a polka dot mug. “If you don’t trust me—”
“Don’t be a fuckingidiot.” Victoriya stormed across the kitchen, grabbed Joy’s arm, and wrenched her around and into a hug that was more combative than comforting.
Still, all the tension and anger dropped out of Joy, and she hugged Victoriya back tightly. The hole in her chest filled just slightly.
“Sorry,” Joy mumbled into Victoriya’s warm leather jacket.
“Shut up,” Victoriya sighed, releasing her. “We were protecting you, dumbass.”
“Oh,” Joy whispered, a lump swelling in her throat as she poured boiling water into Eilidh’s cup, simply so she could avoid the looks of pity from her coven. She expressly did not want to cry again; she’d only just got her breathing back under control.
Joy cleared her throat and asked, “What did the mirror show you?”
