Chapter 1
Just a dr
“MOM!” I screamed.
She lay on the floor, foam covering her mouth. I ran to her and tried to wake her up. Her cheek was cold, colder than it should’ve been, like she’d been lying there longer than made sense.
“Matt!” I cried when I saw the medicine in her hand.
My brother came running. He stopped where he was the second he saw us. For a moment, he couldn’t move. He just stared at her, like if he didn’t move, none of it would be real yet.
One week later, we sold the house. A week after that, we moved to London.
I’m Ellie. I’m seventeen. And the time between those two events is mostly a blur — packing boxes I don’t remember packing, signing my name on papers I don’t remember reading, my brother’s voice telling me it would be okay in a tone that didn’t sound like he believed it either.
There was only one thing I held onto through all of it.
I would be one of the top three students in my junior year.
Just like I promised Mom.
“We’re here,” Matt said, stopping the car.
I hadn’t moved a finger in what felt like hours. I looked up at our new home. It was small. Very small.
“It’s not our house,” Matt said, watching my face, “but we’ll get through this together.”
“My room was bigger than this whole place.”
“You’re exaggerating.”
He looked around anyway, back and forth, like he was checking. “Huh. Maybe you’re not.”
We didn’t stay up late. We didn’t talk much. We both just needed to sleep.
Then the doorbell rang.
I dragged myself up and opened the door, and there she was. My grandmother.
“Grandma!”
I hugged her, and for the first time since Mom died, the emptiness in my chest didn’t feel quite as heavy. But when I pulled back, something about the way she looked at me made me pause — like she was studying me, not just seeing me.
“We need to talk,” she said.
We went to a café nearby. She sat across from me, quiet in a way that didn’t feel like her.
“Don’t you want your mother’s wish to come true?” she asked.
“I swear on her grave, I’ll do whatever it takes.”
She let go of my hand slowly, like she was deciding something.
“It’s not enough to want it,” she said. “Close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“Just close them.”
I did.
When I opened them, I was standing in front of a gate. A mansion loomed behind it, and everything around us had gone dark, even though it had been daytime in the café a second ago. I turned around — the café was gone. My heart started pounding.
Dead leaves covered the steps up to the door. My grandma stood beside me and gestured toward it.
“Open it.”
I hesitated, then did.
“What the—” I didn’t even mean to say it out loud.
The manor was covered in grime and cobwebs, but there was something graceful about it anyway. Old. Almost beautiful, in a way I didn’t want it to be.
“Let’s go inside,” Grandma said, already walking.
I followed her in, and the size of the place hit me even harder up close. Everything about it felt too big, like it had been built for someone who wasn’t quite human.
Then I saw her.
A woman sat at the dining table, out of place against the dust and the dark wood. She looked maybe late thirties. Blonde curls pinned in some old style, red lipstick, a red dress that matched it exactly. When she smiled at us, I noticed her eyes didn’t move the same way the rest of her face did — like the smile was something she was doing, not something she was feeling.
My grandmother bowed her head. We sat.
“What desire brings you here?” the woman asked.
“My granddaughter wants to be number one in her grade.”
“Ohh.” She smiled wider. “So your choice is to be smart.”
I looked at Grandma, not sure if I should feel hopeful or terrified.
The woman clapped once, and a glass appeared on the table in front of me. Red liquid filled it slowly, like it was pouring itself. I hadn’t seen it a second before. Now I knew exactly what I was feeling.
Terrified.
“How did you—”
I pushed my chair back. “I gotta go.”
The woman didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t seem bothered at all. That was worse than if she had.
I tried to stand. I couldn’t. It was like something invisible was holding me down in the chair.
My grandmother came closer and picked up the glass.
“What are you doing?” I said, my voice cracking.
She didn’t answer. She leaned in and brought the glass toward my mouth. I turned my face away as far as I could.
“No—”
I opened my eyes.
I was in my bed. My room. The apartment.
“Was it a dream?” I whispered.
My hand was closed around something. I opened it slowly, and my chest went tight.
A small folded note sat in my palm.
I unfolded it with fingers that weren’t quite steady. The paper felt old, softer than it should’ve been, like it had been folded and unfolded a hundred times before it ever reached me.
It said:
Lambourne End
Olivia
I stared at the words until they blurred.
It wasn’t just a dream.
