Page 47 of Hallows End

“Who was that?”

“Giles,” she says, shaking her head. “He won’t stop calling. My phone rings three times a day, like clockwork.”

“Maybe you should do somethingreallycrazy and answer it.”

Breena licks her lips and sets the phone down. “No. I don’t know what to say, Lucy.”

“Well, he clearly has something to say to you, so you could just listen to him.”

Before she can reply, there’s a knock on the door. Nera’s head comes up, but he doesn’t whimper.

“I’m just popular today,” Breena says as she opens the door, stopping short when she sees it’s Giles. “Uh, hello.”

“Hi. I wanted to come talk to you.”

“I’m busy,” she replies, her voice stronger than I’ve ever heard it. “I’m sorry, I’ll have to see you another time.”

“Are you sure?” he asks.

“Yes. I’m not ready to talk to you.”

“You won’t invite me in?”

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “Have a good day, Giles.”

And with that, she closes the door and turns to me.

“First, I want to say good for you for sticking up for yourself,” I begin. “But also, who are you, and what have you done with my cousin?”

ChapterEleven

Jonas

Ifind it harder and harder to go back to Hallows End each day. Not because of the modern conveniences in Salem or even the perpetually dreary weather in my village.

It’s because leaving Lucy gets increasingly more difficult.

I fear that leaving her will be permanent one day—and that makes my heart bleed.

But I have people to see to and a home to take care of in Hallows End. So, each day, I return. I left Lucy and Nera still sleeping peacefully this morning as I left well before dawn. I know she will likely have a busy day in her apothecary as Salem grows fuller and fuller of people every day.

And it will only continue to do so as we get closer to Samhain.

As I walk, I think of the books I need to trade out, and that I want to start keeping my Book of Shadows in Salem.

I don’t know why I feel that it’ll be safer there, but something in my mind demands it be so.

And I’m not one to go against my guides.

As I cross the bridge into Hallows End, I immediately hear someone yelling my name.

“Jonas! Help, Jonas!”

I rush to where Robert Akerman stands near my cabin.

“I am here.” I drop the books by my doorstep as the man hurries to me. “What troubles you, Robert?”

“I searched for you everywhere,” he says, trying to catch his breath. “Jonas, it’s Rebecca.”