Page 98 of She Haunts Me Still

Mallory bristles at her words. They remind her of what Aunt Penelope always said, the arguments they had leading up to Mallory’s acceptance to Shore. She’s tired of trying to explain to people that she’s not some fragile girl who will shatter beneath the weight of the truth. Her strength has grown teeth.

“She was my mother,” Mallory finally says. “I need to know. No matter how it feels.”

Golden holds her stare another moment before finally capitulating. “Alright. Jasmine began spending time with a girlwho lived about an hour away from Shore. She came by campus a few times, gave the rest of us an…unsettling feeling. It’s hard to explain, but there was something off about her. Nothing nefarious or aggressive, more…otherworldly.”

“Otherworldly?” Mallory narrows her eyes. “You said a second ago that my mom believed in witchcraft. Are you saying…” She swallows. “Are you saying this new friend was a witch?”

Golden tilts her head. “Well,Iwouldn’t say that. I don’t really believe in that sort of thing.” Her mouth flattens in a line. “But Jasmine told me once, in confidence, that this new friend did identify as a witch. Her whole family did. Now, whether that was true, I can’t say. But Jasmine sure seemed to think so.”

Mallory leans forward. “You said this friend lived an hour away? Where? In which direction?”

“East,” Golden answers, and Mallory’s chest clenches. “She lived off the coast of Narragansett Bay.”

Saskia darts her foot against Mallory’s, hard. “Like, on one of the islands?”

Golden nods, and Mallory’s heartbeat skyrockets. “Which one? Prudence?”

“Jasmine never told me,” Golden says, “but I listened to her on the phone once. If I heard correctly, she said her friend lived on Mercy Island.”

“Mercy?” Mallory echoes. “No onelives on that island.”

“Apparently Jasmine’s friend did.”

“Do you remember her friend’s name?” Mallory asks, breath quickening.

At that, Golden purses her lips again. “Ms. Webb, I don’t think I’m in the position to—”

“Please,” Saskia jumps in. “We need to find her.”

“It’s important,” Mallory adds. “Please, Professor Golden. What was her name?”

Golden stares again, and Mallory holds her breath. Feeling like she’s standing on another invisible precipice, hovering between desperation and an answer that will slide into place.

But when Golden speaks, it’s not the revelation she expects.

Instead, it tips Mallory’s world on its side.

“Her name,” Golden says, “was Penelope Vass.”

26

The theater lobby swims as Mallory collapses on a bench by one of the large windows. She pushes a shaking hand through her hair, unable to make sense of what Golden just told her.

Saskia sits beside her. “I don’t understand. Yourauntis a witch? Your mom’s sister?”

Mallory shakes her head. “They’re not sisters. I just grew up calling her aunt, I—”

She suddenly thinks about Penelope’s jewelry box, littered with moonstones and amethysts. The satchels of herbs she kept in the house yet never cooked with. The way she’d disappear for some yoga or Pilates conference four times a year—always, Mallory realizes now, coinciding with a solstice or equinox. The way she would constantly change the subject whenever Mallory asked about her mother.

Not because she didn’t want to talk about it.

But because she didn’t want Mallory to know.

Mallory grabs her phone, smashing Penelope’s number. She grinds her teeth as it rings and rings and rings and—

Hi, you’ve reached Penelope. I can’t come to the phone r—

“Let’s just go to your house,” Saskia suggests. “We can ask—”