But that was who I used to be.

All that changed when I lost my husband, Adam.

“I know what you’re thinking,” I said, catching my uncle’s eye.

“How exciting. What am I thinking?”

“You’re thinking I should try. You’re thinking toads gathering where a person died could be a very bad sign. You’re thinking if I talked to Constance’s ghost, there’s a good chance I could clear the whole matter up pretty quickly.”

He plopped his chin onto his fist. “I had no idea my mind was so busy.”

“But it’s not that simple, and you know it.”

“Please, go on,” he said, waggling his eyebrows. “What else do I know?”

I frowned at him. “You know I haven’t seen a ghost in a very long time.”

His face creased with sadness. “But Brynn, have you really tried?”

I threw my hands up. “Why does everyone keep asking me that? Don’t you see? I never had to try before. My ability, it’s gone. And even if I could reach Constance, you know ghosts don’t always have the answers.”

“Of course not.”

“Don’t you of course not me.”

His eyebrows shot up.

“That was a very judgy of course not.”

A twinkle came back to his eye. “I apologize.”

“And that’s a fake apology.” I sank back into the depths of my chair.

“You look just like your mother when you pout.”

I smiled, but I couldn’t muster much enthusiasm to go behind it. “I wish I could explain it better. It’s just—” I cut myself short with a sharp breath. “I think I’m done trying. I don’t want to try anymore.”

Gideon looked away. He knew exactly what I was talking about. He had long felt the same way.

Growing up, I had been raised to believe our family’s magical powers came with responsibility. The Warren witches had always looked over the town of Evenfall, helping where they could. It was a legacy I had been proud of. But now Nora was right when she said I didn’t want to help anymore. At least not in the way my family wanted me to.

“Well, my dear,” Gideon finally said, “I’m certainly in no position to tell you what to do. And I suppose we’ll all know soon enough if the toad has anything to say about what happened to the unfortunate Constance Graves, regardless of your actions. Ah! Dog!”

Our conversation was interrupted by the flapping of wings, and Dog’s thin talons scratching against the frame of the open window. “Brynn tells me you have been a very naughty bird.”

Dog looked over at me indignantly.

“What?” I asked, suddenly feeling guilty. “The neighbors are complaining.”

The crow continued to stare me down.

“Stop looking at me like that. You need to leave Oscar alone. He’s old. You’re stressing him out.”

The bird held me prisoner in his gaze a moment longer before deigning to take the peanut Gideon was holding out to him.

“I’ve been doing some reading on crows,” my uncle said, using the side of one finger to smooth down the feathers on Dog’s back. “Did you know some believe they are messengers of the dead?”