How to Hang a Witch by Adriana Mather Read Free Book Online Page B

clothes in the upper part of the armoire and place them on the floor next to the pile. In the center of the back panel is a delicately carved black-eyed Susan, matching the rest of the furniture in my bedroom. I check all the edges of the wood and the hinges, to see if anything is faulty.
    As a last resort, I knock on the wood itself—the doors, the sides, and the back panel.
Wait, this part sounds different.
I tap near the flower. Definitely hollow. I pull my head out of the armoire and give it a push to move it from the wall. It doesn’t budge. The thing weighs like five hundred pounds.
    I return to the flower and grab the edges of it. There’s a small noise, and one of the petals appears to have tilted.
Did it just move or did I imagine that?
I brace the flower with the tips of my fingers and pull. It pops off easily and lands in my palm.
    I reach my hand into the hole where the flower was, and the edge of something silky brushes my fingertips. I lean forward and manage to pinch it. Carefully, I pull out a bundle of old letters tied with blue ribbon. They’re yellowed with age and have a musty perfume smell. I now couldn’t care less about my clothes being all over the floor.
    I sit at my vanity and untie the bow that holds them together. Gently, I open the flap of the first envelope and unfold the thick stationery inside. The writing is small and so elaborately curled, it’s difficult to make out.
My dearest Abigail,
    Nothing wouldst give me more joye than to once agane see your smile. I verily believe mother's illness is nigh finished and that I maye return to you. Have patience, my love, for I am over a barrel with these unfortunate times.
    Forever yours,
    William
    Old love letters. How romantic.
I bet they belonged to the girl in the portrait by the piano.
Was this her room? And for some reason, I have a strong feeling it was. She loved black-eyed Susans. That’s why they’re all over this furniture.
    The lights go off, and I jump.
You have got to be kidding me! Not now!
I put the delicate letters down and feel around for the flashlight on my nightstand. My hands shake.
    “Vivian!” I yell as I run through the dark hallway, but no one responds. When I get to the top of the stairs, lights glow in the foyer. “Vivian!”
    “What?” Her voice comes faintly from down the hallway.
    I run all the way to the kitchen, knowing that’s where I’ll find her. She always makes loose-leaf tea at night. I push the swinging door at the end of the hallway. She’s next to the stove, lighting a flame beneath an antique kettle.
    “My lights went out again,” I say.
    “The repairman fixed the lights.”
    After the weird things that have already happened to me today, I’m definitely not excited about my room being dark. “Well, they’re out in my bedroom.”
    She puts her empty mug down with a clang on the marble countertop and walks out the back door to the patio. I follow, and hold the flashlight as she opens the breaker box filled with switches.
    “You’re right; one of them is off.” She flips it back into position. “Let’s go take a look.” She enters the house, moving quickly.
    I don’t want her to see those letters.
“It’s fine.” I keep pace with her. “I’ll let you know if they’re back on.”
    “I’ll look myself. If there’s still a problem, I’ll call that idiot and make him come back. I have no interest in spending another evening bumping into my own furniture because I can’t see ten feet in front of my face.”
    There is no arguing with her, especially when she’s feeling snippy. We walk toward my room. Did I close my door? I don’t remember doing that. The back of my neck tingles. I grab the handle before Vivian does, hoping I can hide those letters. “The light’s on,” I say quickly.
    “You’re acting like a nervous wreck. Are you okay?” She eyes me and pushes my door open.
    I immediately look at my vanity, but the letters are gone.
Gone! What the…?
I walk to it and pull