Shadows and Curses

Shadows and Curses WEEPING HOLLOW BOOK ONE WILLOW HADLEY Contents 1. Harriet 2. Harriet 3. Harriet 4. Harriet 5. Harriet 6. Harriet 7. Harriet 8. Harriet 9. Harriet 10. Nolan 11. Harriet 12. Harriet 13. Harriet 14. Owen 15. Harriet 16. Mattie 17. Harriet 18. Harriet 19. Spencer 20. Harriet 21. Harriet 22. Harriet 23. Harriet 24. Harriet 25. Harriet 26. Spencer 27. Harriet 28. Harriet 29. Harriet 30. Mattie 31. Harriet 32. Harriet 33. Harriet Acknowledgments About the Author Also by Willow Hadley Copyright © 2023 by Willow Hadley All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission. This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental. Edited by Taryn Gilliland Cover Design by Maria Spada Created with Vellum To Taryn and Kiersten for loving this book and these characters so much, and for encouraging me to keep writing this book even when writing was a struggle. Chapter 1 Harriet “Oh, look! Rosemary’s Diner is still here. Your aunt and I used to get milkshakes there practically every day during the summers. And there’s—Harriet! Turn that off. You’re missing everything.” Internally rolling my eyes, I continue staring out the passenger window of our 1985 Jeep Wagoneer. I still have my headphones in, but I turned my music off as soon as I saw the town’s welcome sign a few minutes ago. My mom doesn’t need to know that. The more she prattles on about what a terrible daughter I am and how teenagers are all the same these days, the harder it is not to roll my eyes or make a snide comment. It’s stupidly easy and way too satisfying to piss her off. While I pretend to ignore my mom, I continue to look out the window and take in the scenery of Weeping Hollow, Massachusetts. Despite the creepy name, it’s one of those quaint, picturesque New England towns people like to idealize because the leaves are just so pretty in the fall. My mom and her twin sister used to spend every summer and school break here visiting their grandmother Sylvia. I’ve heard so many stories about this place over the years that I feel like I know it already. I recognize every shop we pass without my mom having to say a word. I’ll never admit this out loud, but a big part of me is excited. All the houses we’ve passed are old-fashioned and unique, every shop appears to be local, and there are Halloween decorations literally everywhere. It shouldn't be surprising, considering the history of this place. Plus, we’re only about two hours away from Salem. Even if regular people don’t believe in witches anymore, most people love that sort of spooky stuff this time of year. When we turn onto Hazel Lane, it takes everything in me not to press my face against the glass in excitement. The street is lined with old Victorian homes. Some of them are smaller, some of them are straight up mansions, but all of them are gorgeous and have obviously been well kept over the years. Most of them appear to be residential, but there are a few that have been turned into businesses. A law office, a dentist, a clothing boutique, not one but two antique shops, and a bed and breakfast. It’s obvious we’ve reached the house when my mom squeals in delight. I give up every pretense of acting like a bratty, brooding teenager and turn to grin at her. I’ve waited my entire life to see the historic home that’s belonged to my family since it was built in 1852. A couple of minutes later, I find myself standing with my arms crossed on the sidewalk beside my mom as we look up at the Abbot House. This thing is a monstrosity. It’s three stories tall with a huge wrap-around porch, complete with balconies and spires. Unlike every other house in this neighborhood, this place has not been well kept. The once-white paint is peeling, most of the shutters are broken or falling off, and the entire house is covered in thick black and green scum. The yard is even worse, if possible. The grass is at least waist-high, and there are several overgrown bushes and trees. Some of them completely cover parts of the house, and I wouldn’t be surprised if there are tree roots and vines growing inside. The black wrought iron fence surrounding the property makes the whole thing look even more ominous and unwelcoming. “Wow, mom. It’s even better than you described.” She smacks my arm lightly as she pulls her phone out of her purse to check the time. “Oh, be quiet. We knew it would need a little work. Where on Earth is your aunt? We only have a few minutes before the curse is broken.” “Oh yeah, just a little work.” I snort, holding my arms out in an exaggerated shrug. “I’m sure it’ll be nothing. A piece of cake.” Ignoring my sarcastic remark, my mom turns her head to look down the street. “Here she is.” A bright yellow taxi appears further down the street, and we watch with excited anticipation as it approaches and parks behind our Wagoneer. My aunt steps out of the car with a grin on her face. I stand back with my arms crossed and watch as she greets my mom, grabs her suitcases from the trunk, and pays the driver. After the taxi drives away, Aunt Flora smiles and waves me over. “Get over here!” “It hasn’t been that long.” I laugh when she pulls