CHAPTER TEN
She was nervous about coming home. Though she had been gone for less than a full year, Isabel had this horrid feeling in the pit of her stomach that everything had changed and everyone had moved on from her. But how could that be when no one could leave?
Isabel was comforted when the Uber she ordered brought her to the Murder House and the outside was the same. That meant no one had taken over. This was still home.
Her eyes moved over to the neighboring house. It was a house she was less familiar with, but still knew. Her birth mother's home…
Should she stop in and say hello? The polite part of her knew she ought to. But the bigger, more rational part of Isabel wanted to avoid her mother at all cost. Forcing the thought of Constance Langdon from her mind, Isabel walked up to the front door of her home, and stepped inside.
It was oddly quiet. No spirits around. It was the morning of Halloween, so perhaps everyone was already gone.
"Hello?" Isabel called out.
Moira stepped out from the kitchen, her deep red hair and aged appearance immediately bringing comfort to Isabel. Isabel let her messenger bag fall to the floor and she went straight up to Moira, hugging the breath out of her.
"Iz?" Derek called out, his voice coming from the study. "You home?"
"Yeah!" Isabel called back when she stepped away from Moira.
Maybe coming home was a mistake. It had only been a few minutes, and already she dreaded going back to the academy and leaving everyone behind again.
A sleepless Derek appeared, grinning. Isabel wasted no time in meeting him in a hug. She still irritated at the fact that he was so easily swayed into making her go to Miss Robichaux's, but she wasn't angry. Moira had been right: he was looking out for her. It did cross her mind that it might have been Concilium, but seeing him now she knew that it couldn't possibly be true. He was just doing what he thought would be best because he didn't know anything about real witches.
"You look good, Iz."
"You don't," Isabel replied. "When was the last time you slept?"
Derek chuckled. "You know me: sleep can wait until the book is finished."
"So you've started a new book?"
"Trying to." There was a beat, and he added, "I didn't tell her you were coming."
"She probably already knows anyway."
The "she" in question was, of course, Isabel's birth mother. She was so desperate to get Isabel to love her and see her as a parent. It was pathetic, not mention annoying. The only downside to being home was having to deal with that nonsense.
"Is Tate home?" Isabel asked, changing the subject deliberately. She didn't want to talk about Constance. She was more concerned about her half-brother. They haven't spoken since the first she called home a little less than a year ago, when he got upset with her for something beyond her control.
"That boy left the house since the sun peeked out from the horizon," Moira answered. "He was determined to get out of here. Derek, bring her bag to her room. I'll put the kettle on."
Derek followed Moira's instructions as Isabel followed Moira.
"We haven't heard from you in a few weeks," Moira remarked as she put the kettle on the stove for tea. "Your father was a little worried. I expected you were just busy."
"Yeah. I've been actually trying and all that. Well, sort of," Isabel admitted. "I just don't like magic. But the history is really cool. I've been reading a lot about the real history of witches. There's this old greeting that some witches still use by putting their hand to their foreheads, bowing, and saying 'well met.' It's mostly out of practice in America, but some witches still use it to identify each other."
Moira smiled warmly. She wasn't involved in witchcraft at all, but it did warm her heart to hear Isabel act passionately about something that she was so determined to hate. "May I ask what changed your mind? I know my words alone couldn't have gotten through to you."
That was true, Isabel couldn't deny it. "I met someone." She frowned at her phrasing. "Not like that. The Supreme; the head of the coven. I met her and she sort of taught me a few things."
"Well that's quite the honor." Moira poured the tea into two cups, adding a little bit of milk to both and handing one to Isabel. "Are you truly happy there?"
There was a pause. "I don't know if I can answer that." She thought she was happy there, but then Fiona left and there was something lacking. Not that Isabel didn't like Cordelia. She loved Cordelia, and things were certainly more interesting now that Joe the Cynical Ghost made himself known. But without Fiona, everything was lackluster.
Moira understood that. It was a question that even she couldn't truly answer. She was trapped in this house for eternity, and that was miserable, yes. But she had come to love the Noble family, so it wasn't like it was hell on earth.
A comfortable silence settled between them as they drank their tea.
Realizing that it was quiet, Isabel took a moment to really listen. The house had never been so silent. Could it be that everyone, not just Tate, was gone for the day? "Moira, why are you still here?"
Moira didn't react to the question, pretending that it didn't bother her. "There's no reason for me to leave this year." Her mother was no longer in the nursing home; Moira had helped her pass on the year before. There was no one left for her in this world. If she could kill herself, she would. But Constance Langdon had already taken care of that, murdering her in this house. She supposed she could do something: slit her wrists, eat a bottle of pills, cut her throat; however, none of it would have the desired effect. She would just wake up in the house, still trapped. She wasn't about to tell Isabel any of that, though.
Isabel let the matter go, despite numerous questions burning a hole on her tongue, sensing that Moira didn't wish to talk about it.
"The Montgomerys are still here," Moira said suddenly, as if just remembering. "But they never leave."
Perhaps Isabel would say hello to them. Perhaps not. The scar on her arm in the shape of a bite mark tingled in remembrance. She shivered at the memory: the demonic Montgomery baby that lived in the darkest, dankest corner of the basement coming out of the shadows and attacking her. It was something she managed to forget about most of the time.
"Don't mind me," Derek announced as he waltzed into the kitchen and went to the cupboard. He grabbed a bag of Salt & Vinegar chips before disappearing again.
Isabel knew that he would be munching on those chips for dinner. "Is he at least having one actual meal a day?"
"Of course. I make sure he sits down at the table and eats," Moira said as she refilled Isabel's tea. "Speaking of which, go on and sit down. You look like you're long overdue for an actual breakfast."
So Isabel sat and ate an actual breakfast: eggs, pancakes, more tea; she ate and ate until she was more than full. She really had missed Moira's cooking.
As she helped Moira with the dishes, Derek reappeared in the kitchen, having finally run out of steam. He walked up to Isabel and kissed the top of her head. "It's really good to have you home, Iz. I missed you." They hadn't spoken on the phone much; he wanted to let her live her life. Seeing her made him crave the life they had before she went away to boarding school. He missed having her by his side, someone to bounce narrative ideas off of and to laugh at stupid jokes with and watch movies until late even on school nights. He raised Isabel all by himself, and even though she had been gone for nearly a year, he was still finding it difficult to let her go.
"Missed you, too," Isabel replied earnestly. "How's the writing going?"
"It's… going." Derek sighed. "Sorry I've been kind of ignoring you."
"No, it's fine," Isabel insisted. "Really. Actually, I might go out tonight, so write away."
Derek raised his eyebrows. "Out? I hope you don't mean to the bars or anything."
"Oh, no," Isabel said quickly. "No, not like that. Probably just walking around."
Derek searched Isabel's eyes, finding her true intent immediately. "Tate has to come back by tomorrow morning; there's no need to go after him." Derek knew that Isabel and Tate were friends and siblings, and close because of that. But he wasn't fond of the idea of his daughter being so sympathetic towards a school shooter.
"I know." That wasn't going to stop her though, and she knew Derek could sense that. However, he didn't say anything else on the matter; she was free to do what she pleased.
So, when it was early evening, Isabel did exactly that: what she pleased. And what she pleased was to talk around the neighborhood and perhaps find Tate and talk to him in person.
Isabel roamed the streets aimlessly, not having any idea where Tate might be. She paused a moment on the sidewalk, closing her eyes and trying to sense him like she could sense Joe at the academy. But it was proving to be difficult on Halloween.
"The veil between life and death is thinned. If it's a ghost you're looking for, you're going to have to try a lot harder to find it."
Isabel opened her eyes, thrilled and shocked to see the one person she wasn't sure she'd ever see again.
"Fiona."
