Her face contorts with pain, then smooths immediately, the motion so quick, I almost miss it. “Thank you, Willow. But I lost my sister a long time ago.” She turns to face me fully. “It has taken me years to move forward. Years. I need you to trust me when I say the past needs to remain the past. I’m here to help the aunts settle the estate. We’re here to do a job, and that’s it. After that, I never want to see this place again. I really don’t want you getting mixed up in any of this. Do you understand?”

A lump has risen in my throat, and I struggle to swallow. The door has cracked ever so slightly on my family’s past, and now she’s asking me to close it back up again. “I understand.”

The wall rises back up between us, and this time I don’t try to fight it. I may not understand what is going on right now, but I do know one thing: My mom is in a lot of pain.

After the day I’ve had, the hotel is weirdly normal. Phoebe was obviously trying to impress my mom; it’s a boutique hotel decorated in mid-century modern style, with lots of quirky accents like shaggy pillows, peacock-blue sofas, and chandeliers shaped like exploding fireworks. It hosts a rooftop bar (Salem’s only!), a small lounge area, and a concierge eager to point us to Salem’s best hot spots, a topic my mom shuts down pretty thoroughly.

Phoebe has rented us small adjoining rooms, both with exposed brick walls and views overlooking Essex Street. Once we’re inside, my mom hands me her credit card, tells me to order whatever I want for dinner, and then slams the door in my face. Literally.

I flop onto my bed and do a quick review of the past few hours: My mom has inherited a magical-looking house with the best garden I’ve ever seen. She has two eccentric but very sweet aunts, one of whom has given me access to the house. She had a sister who clearly broke her heart. And she experienced homelessness as a child, her mother in and out of her life.

Out of everything, that’s the part I’m having the hardest time with. How is it possible I didn’t know something this big about my mother? And if Sage hadn’t died and left her this house, would I ever have found out?

The house.

I pull Violet’s key from my pocket, testing its weight in my hand. I can’t go in there, can I? And had I heard her right? Book of Shadows. What does that even mean?

Before I can google it, I get a text from Bea.

Well??