The Witches (Book #1)

𝔗𝔥𝔢 ℜ𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔗𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔏𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔢

The floorboards creak under my feet in the long hallway that leads to the library. A painting of a particularly surly-looking old man with a large dog catches my eye and I stop short. Appa told me about this painting.

"Tell me again how you met Eomma," I said as I slid under my covers.

My dad sat on the side of my bed and tucked in the blankets around my feet. "I was fifteen at the time, six years older than you are now. And I was the most handsome thing you'd ever seen."

I giggled. I'd seen pictures of my dad at fifteen, and he was skinny, with hair that stick off his head in patches like a half-bald porcupine.

"Your mom was delivering some books to your halmeoni. Your mom's family owned the local bookshop. And I was walking down the hallway toward her. She stepped to her right to let me pass, but I stepped the same way at the same time. We went back and forth like this five or six times. I admit that in the end I was doing it on purpose just to look at her a little longer." He winked at me.

"Your mom demanded that I stop moving altogether, and when I did, she pushed me with both hands into the wall. I knew in that moment that I loved her, with her wild frizzy hair. Above me, great-grandfather's painting scowled down disapprovingly. I couldn't help but grin at the cranky old man and his dog."

I sigh and walked into the library, toward the fireplace. There is so much about my family I don't know. I don't even really know the story of how my mom died. My dad always said that she died happier than he'd ever seen her because I was in her arms. That for a few short minutes after I was born, we were the perfect family. Then he would shut himself in his office for the rest of the night.

I pull the hook, flick on the lantern, and push the secret door closed behind me. The bricks and old wooden beams light up. I got to the spiral staircase and take the steps slowly, enjoying the thrill of this hidden place. I wonder if my dad ever knew about this passageway or it it was something my grandmother kept to herself.

I smile at the little room filled with books and make my way to halmeoni's desk,. strewn with papers that she must have expected to return to it. I set down the lantern and situate myself. I open the journal and read.

My breath catches on the word "curse," and my hand shakes as I turn the page.

If she wanted to know me, why did Appa keeps us separated? It's not like him. There are two possibilities. One, my grandmother was crazy. Or two, my grandmother was right, and my family it literally cursed. In which case, my dad's illness is probably connected. Maybe he really is sick because of me. A dull ache pounds in my chest. I put pressure over my heart with my hand to keep the ache from spreading. Please, no.

There's a faint shuffling noise downstairs. Yoomi must be home. I snap the journal closed and pick up the lantern. Quietly, I make my way down the twisty staircase and listen at the door. I open it, leaving just enough room for my left eye to peer through. Nothing. I yank the door open, slip trough, and close it behind me in one fluid motion. My heart drums in my ears.

I tiptoe through the library and my foot catches on a book. I stumble forward and put my hand out before my face connects with the wall. Where the hell did that come from? Before I toss it on the shelf, I catch the title—The Right Time to Leave. I stiffen, remembering what the fair-haired guy said about leaving Manyeo. I grip the book and open the door.

"Yoomi!" I yell, but there's no response.

I look both ways down the hall. "I know I locked the doors," I tell myself. It's habit every Seouler's neurotic about. I walk to the front foyer and scan the room.

"Yoomi!" I yell.

Still holding the book, I bolt upstairs. I reach my room in seconds and lock the door behind me. How would anyone know I was in the library? Was someone watching me?

Glass shatters, and I jump backward, hitting the locked door with a thud. A pane of my bedroom window lies in shards on my floor. For a few seconds, I don't move. I focus on a pinkie-sized black rock on the wooden floorboards.

My right hand curls into a fists. I will not be harassed in my own house! I lunge forward and grab the rock. It's cold and smooth. I turn it over in my palm. Scratched into one side is the word DIE.

The front door slams, and I freeze.

"Suzy!" Yoomi's voice echoes in the foyer. I release my breath.

"Yoomi!" I yell back and swing open my door. "Come up here! Someone just threw a rock through my window!"

Her heels are muffled by the rug on the stairs but click in a hurried pace once she reaches the wooden floorboards of the hallway.

She studies the broken window and then the glass. "Outrageous," she says angrily.

"Here." I hand her the rock.

The muscle around her eyes tighten. "What's this about, Suzy?"

I pause, not sure how to begin. "Today in school, this guy said 'You'll leave Manyeo.' Almost like a threat. And then, I find this book in the doorway of the library." I hold out the book. "I was creeped out, so I came up here. I wasn't in the room for more than a minute before this rock came crashing through."

"You're sure this book wasn't already there? That whole room's bursting with books."

"Positive."

"I'm going to check all the windows and doors," she says, and exits.

"I'm fine. Thanks for asking," I say to myself, and peek through the shattered glass to the dark yard below.