“Might Tabatha fancy another spot of tea?” Harper asked Zinny, her voice adopting a playful, exaggerated British accent.

Zinny leaned toward her doll, a mischievous glint in her eyes as she gave several emphatic nods before turning back to Harper. “No, but she’d fancy another crumpet,” Zinny replied, mimicking Harper’s accent and pointing to the nearly empty plate of cookies.

“I’m not sure your mom would want you having another cookie,” Harper said, dropping the accent and returning to her normal voice.

“It’s not for me, it’s for Tabatha!” Zinny insisted, crossing her arms with an indignant huff.

“Fine,” Harper sighed, giving in and handing Zinny one of the last two cookies.

Nibbling on the last cookie, Harper’s attention drifted to the door Jace and Acacia had slipped through, obviously intent on eavesdropping. Harper couldn't fathom why anyone would want to listen in on a conversation they weren't invited to. It simply wasn't right. She suspected Jace had never cared about doing the right thing a day in his life, but Acacia's actions might’ve stemmed from the pain of losing her parents.

As she munched on her cookie, Harper decided Acacia needed someone to remind her how decent people respected others’ privacy. She glanced at Zinny, who pretended to feed Tabatha some cookie pieces before enjoying it all for herself.

“Stay here. I’ll be back,” Harper instructed, heading toward the dining room.

Like every other space she’d encountered in the house, the room was grandiose. Tall windows with sections of stained glass adorned one wall, allowing sunlight to flood in and bathe the room with a warm, natural radiance. At the heart of the space stood a long wooden table, its legs intricately carved with floral patterns, surrounded by soft-cushioned chairs.

But it was the breathtaking chandelier that truly captivated Harper. Dangling above the table, its myriad crystals caught and scattered the sunlight, amplifying the lavishness of the room. Warm, gilded wallpaper wrapped the room, with China cabinets and dressers filling every available wall space. Harper imagined them filled with exquisite cloth napkins and gleaming silverware. Four entrances led into the room, including the one Harper had just entered through. One door led to a parlor framed by a stunning stained-glass archway, while the other two opened into the foyer across from the living room.

Harper frowned in disapproval at Acacia and Jace, who were pressed against the partially open door, straining to catch bits of the adults’ conversation.

“Spying is wrong, you guys,” Harper chastised from the kitchen doorway.

“Shhh!” they hissed in unison, shutting the door just long enough to make sure the adults hadn’t hear them.

“I’m not sure, but I think eavesdropping is a sin,” Harper added, trying to appeal to their consciences.

“Give it a rest, Mary,” Jace retorted, rolling his eyes.

“If they didn’t want us listening, they’d talk softer,” Acacia reasoned, her attention drifting back to the commotion in the living room.

“Besides, not all of us can be satisfied playing tea party,” Jace smirked at her. “That requires a very special type of person.”

“Guys, please, reconsid—”

“Shut up or leave, Mary,” Acacia snapped, closing her eyes, hoping it would sharpen her hearing like it had in the past.

Harper bared her teeth, her fists clenching and unclenching in frustration. "Fine, but don't whine to me when you're burning in damnation," she shot back, folding her arms.

***

Aggie sighed deeply, setting her tea on the coffee table as her attention drifted toward the kitchen door, sensing something was off. Closing her eyes, she honed in on the palpable strangeness suffusing the air.

"Aggie!" Petunia's voice cracked through the room, jolting Aggie from her concentration and back to her conversation.

Aggie glanced at Petunia, who was practically fuming, before shifting her gaze to Briar-Rose, who looked as startled as a doe caught in the headlights.

“She’s your little sister,” Aggie revealed in a hushed tone.

“That’s impossible,” Briar said, shaking her head with vehemence. “Mom died sixteen years ago.”

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“She went into hiding sixteen years ago after a witch friend of the coven foresaw her pregnancy in the near future,” Aggie explained, lifting her tea to her lips. “The coven thought it was for the best.”

“The coven always thought they knew what was best,” Petunia sneered, bitterness oozing from every word. “To hell with whoever they hurt in the process. Right, Aggie?”

"That's enough, Nia," Aggie warned, her glare daring Petunia to push further.

“No, it’s not! We just found out we have a sister, and our mom didn’t die like you said she did,” Briar snapped, standing up and pacing the room. She stopped abruptly, turning to face Aggie. “I think we’re entitled to be pissed.”

“Your mother always did what was best for the coven, and that meant having her daughter in secret.”

"What about what was best for us?" Briar-Rose asked, her voice quivering, echoing the vulnerability of an abandoned child. She sank back onto the couch, locking eyes with Aggie. "She just left us to go raise some other kid for the past—how old is she? Fifteen years?"

“She did it to protect you, too,” Aggie replied. “And she didn’t raise Acacia. Demons killed Callie shortly after she gave birth.”

“Oh...” Briar murmured, her spirit deflating.

Petunia rubbed her brows together as she paced back and forth.

“Seriously, Aggie! Is that it? No more amazingly ill-timed bombshells to drop?”

“Nia—”

“No! Ugh, now I’ve got a headache,” Petunia groaned, clutching her head. “Thanks a lot.”

“Sit down, have some tea, and we’ll talk about this, dear,” Aggie suggested, patting the sofa beside her.

“Oh God,” Petunia breathed, a hysterical laugh bubbling up as she watched Aggie. “I—I can’t keep doing this. I’m done.”

With that, Petunia grabbed her purse and stormed out of the house, the door slamming behind her. Briar-Rose moved to follow, but Aggie’s firm hand stopped her.

"Let her be."

***

Harper watched Acacia close the door and stumble back. She rushed to steady her, noting the pallor that had overtaken her usual olive complexion.

“What happened?” she asked, concern creasing her face.

Jace just stared at Acacia for a minute before speaking, his tone nonchalant. “Looks like you’re not as orphaned as you thought,” he said with a shrug.

Acacia cast a glassy-eyed stare at him but remained silent. There wasn’t anything she could say to him. Jace wasn’t wrong. She probably heard the conversation clearer than him, but he’d heard enough, and she’d heard too much.

“What does that mean?” Harper prodded, her curiosity piqued.

“You didn’t know you were adopted?” Jace asked, deliberately ignoring Harper’s question.

Acacia shook her head, the motion barely noticeable as she staggered toward the kitchen, murmuring to herself.

“I’ll take that as a no,” Jace muttered.

“I told you, nothing good comes from eavesdropping,” Harper scolded, following Acacia. She reached out, gently placing a hand on Acacia’s shoulder. “Acacia?”

Acacia whirled around, her wide eyes filled with desperation as they met Harper’s and Jace’s. “You both lost your parents in those murders that’s been on TV, right?”

“So?” Jace replied, leaning back in one of the chairs.

“Are you sad?” Acacia asked bluntly.

“No. But my foster dad was a dick.”

Acacia turned her gaze to Harper. “What about you?”

Harper’s brows furrowed, finding the question absurd. She glanced at Jace—of course someone as callous as him wouldn’t be sad—but then her expression shifted as she realized the unsettling truth. “I know I should be sad, but… I’m not. Not really.”

Harper’s gaze flitted between Zinny and Acacia, her concern growing. “Should we really be talking about D.E.A.T.H in front of her?”

"I'm not sad either, and I lost my parents two nights ago," Acacia admitted, her voice strained. "That's not weird to you?"

"That we're all slight sociopaths?" Jace quipped, lazily dragging his finger across the empty cookie plate and popping the crumbs into his mouth.

“That we’re all okay with it. Any of it. The deaths, the bizarre circumstances, all of us ending up in this stranger’s house. One of us, maybe, but all three?”

“I like Aggie,” Harper said, a little sheepishly.

“What if that’s because she spelled you to like her?” Acacia countered.

“Spelled? Like, like magic?” Harper asked, her voice trembling.

“Exactly like magic.”

“And I thought Mary was nuts!” Jace laughed.

“You heard them talking about covens and demons,” Acacia reminded him.

Jace and Harper exchanged uneasy looks, convinced Acacia was losing her grip on reality.

“Fine,” Acacia said, marching over to the pantry door and searching through it.

“Looking for Narnia?” Jace teased when she came back empty-handed. “I think you’re short a lion and wardrobe.”

“What’s happening?” Harper asked, fear seeping into her voice.

“We’re getting front-row seats to a mental breakdown,” Jace replied. “All we’re missing is popcorn.”

“Shut up!” Acacia shouted, her frustration boiling over as she slammed her fist into the wall next to the pantry.

She knew she was right. Things weren’t adding up, but how could she prove stuck in the kitchen? She peeled her hand from the wall, her mind consumed with finding an escape route. Her eyes fell to Harper and Jace, their mouths agape, staring at something behind her. She followed their gaze, half expecting to see a hole in the wall, though she doubted she’d punched it that hard. Instead, Acacia gasped when she saw the wall had vanished, replaced by a mysterious staircase. A grin unfolded across her face as she stared at the steps. She turned to Harper and Jace, her voice triumphant. “See? Weird.”

Without hesitation, Acacia began ascending the staircase, curiosity guiding each step. Jace stood up, grabbing Harper’s hand and dragging her along with him.

“What are you doing?” she asked, digging her heels into the floor.

“Everyone knows you don’t let crazy out of your sight.” He raised her hand. “I got you, and the other crazy is up there, so come on.”

Zinnia began to rise from her chair to follow, but Jace held out his hand, blocking her path. "No diaper babies allowed."

“I’m not a baby,” Zinny retorted. “I don’t wear diapers!”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Jace said, scrunching his nose.

“We’ll be back soon,” Harper promised. “Just keep playing with Tabatha.”

Zinnia scowled at Jace and stuck her tongue out before turning to Harper with a bright smile.

“Okay,” Zinnia said, settling back at the table as Harper and Jace followed Acacia up the hidden staircase.