"Witchy?" Jasmine scoffed, lounging back down into some sunken couch cushions, a forgotten slice of pizza abandoned on her napkin. "What do you mean, 'we're witchy?' Like pointy hats and broomsticks kind of witchy, or 'my big sister Jade is finally losing it' witchy?" She wriggled her eyebrows at their third sister, Junie, looking for some support on the 'losing it' theory.
Jade sat cross-legged on the floor, the silver locket in her open palm. Her knuckles were still pale. "I'm serious. I touched this thing and saw—felt—a memory. Like it was mine, but not mine. Two women, both wearing cloaks, handing each other matching lockets. I think... I think this locket was one of them. And one of the women had an 'L' stitched on her coat. It was… vivid. Like I was right there with them."
Junie fidgeted, chewing her lip. "You think that woman in the vision—the one who died—was... like a witch?"
"Yes," Jade said, voice low. "She felt... connected. And I think she was murdered by the man I saw. Longish hair pulled back in a ponytail, a silver dagger… It wasn’t random."
"Okay," Jasmine said slowly, standing back up. "I’m gonna need sleep before I process any of this. Let's hope the rain lets up tonight and the front door doesn't blow itself open again in all this wind."
The next morning saw a break in the rain at last, but the sky remained beaten gray as if it had not fully recovered from the storm. Jasmine awoke in the back sunroom of the old Victorian house, which, despite the chill, was flooded with natural light that promised warmth on sunnier days. Wrapped in a knitted throw, she started scrolling through her phone, checking what she missed before she got up for the bathroom. She flipped half-heartedly between a few emails from apologetic brand reps and the latest videos on her 'for-you page.'
The word witchy echoed through her mind. And she kept seeing that strange shift in Jade's face the night before, like she'd seen something she couldn’t explain. Jasmine wasn't a superstitious sort. But something about Jade’s vision and that locket…. It did not want to be cast from her mind.
She opened her planner app to make a list. Jasmine believed in lists. And apps. But every time she went to tap a task, like "order ring light replacement" or "book interview for travel vlog series,” her fingers hovered, then moved to a different one. She wasn't vibing.
Annoyed, she tossed her phone onto the chaise and stood, stretching. Maybe she needed to clear her head. A walk would help. She pulled on boots and a long burgundy coat and headed outside.
The neighborhood was still waking up. Larkspur Hill had once been a posh suburb, and though it had aged, it hadn’t fallen apart. The trees were old and sturdy. Roots broke forth through the well-worn sidewalks here and there. And most of the homes like theirs had stories secreted between their walls.
As Jasmine passed a cornerstore, she paused. The old man running it was outside, setting out some fruits and vegetables in a few outside risers. "Morning," she nodded.
"Morning," he returned, looking up. He gave her a strange look. "You a Lockewell girl?"
"Maybe, yeah," she replied, only somewhat cautious. "What gave it away?"
"Be careful in that house," he said, not unkindly. "That place remembers."
Jasmine blinked. "What does that mean?"
He blinked a few times. "What does what mean?"
"What?"
"What?"
Jasmine clarified, "You told me to be careful in the house. That it remembers."
He shrugged apologetically. "Maybe your headphones?" He pointed at her tangled earbuds slung around her shoulders. They weren't even in her ears.
"Uh, yeah, must have been." She didn't want to freak out the locals. Besides, she needed a reliable peanut butter cups supply within walking distance.
She picked up a couple of nice-looking fresh oranges thinking they'd make a decent breakfast, then brought them to the register. The old man rang them up silently.
"That’ll be three-fifty," he said, placing the oranges and peanut butter cups in a small paper bag.
Jasmine handed over a five and took her change. "Thanks. See you around."
He nodded. "Take care now."
She stepped back out into the street and turned back the way she had come.
Back home later that afternoon, Jasmine rummaged through a half-unpacked box marked MISC and pulled out a bundle of dried herbs tied with ribbon. Something she’d picked up in Mexico City from a street vendor who promised it would ward off bad energy. Jasmine had loved the aesthetic of it. She remembered the woman who’d sold it to her had looked at her palms and said, "Power sits in you. But it pulls two ways."
At the time, Jasmine had laughed. But now, she thought... well, she could use all the good energy she could get.
She carried the bundle to her sunroom and hung it by the window. Then, impulsively, she grabbed a glittery gold nail polish, one of her favorites, and painted a small symbol on the window behind the herbs. A rising sun.
She didn’t know why. But when she looked at her handiwork, she felt a little better. A little less unmoored.
While Jasmine organized herself in the sunroom, Jade had buried herself in research upstairs. She’d brought home what felt like half the university library’s archive that morning on Chicago’s occult history. She had the idea to cross-reference the locket's design against from old jeweler's catalogues with 19th century covens rumored to exist in the region.
Meanwhile, Junie was curled in a chair near the fireplace, sketching in her journal. She wasn’t sure what she was drawing until the shapes began to take form: a dagger with a spiraling handle, an open locket.
Jasmine interrupted Junie's sketching, briskly walking in and carrying the herb bundle.
"Okay, I want to try something," she said.
Junie didn’t look up. "Try something witchy?" The word had been echoing in her head as well, it seemed.
"Maybe," Jasmine said. "You said that woman had an 'L' on her coat. I know I'm stating the obvious here, but C'mon. 'L?' And well, we're 'Lockewell?' What if we're connected?" At that, Junie's attention fixed on her sister at last. Jasmine continued, "So that locket, the one Jade found… what if it was passed down? What if she was our ancestor?"
Jade appeared around a corner and walked into the room. "A Lockewell, and a witch?"
The two sisters swiveled around with surprise to face Jade. But Jasmine continued on, "And maybe the locket was meant to protect her. Or... protect Lockewells."
Jade narrowed her eyes. "What makes you think that?"
"It's... just a theory. It doesn't matter. But listen, I want to do a protection charm. Not a hex. I know I’m good at curses—"
Junie blinked. "You’re good at curses?"
"I mean, I'm good at cursing. Right? Curses, cursing, it's all bad intentions. Bad vibes. You wouldn’t believe how many people I've cursed while traveling that turned around and had bad luck. Y'know, lost luggage, delayed flights. Nothing tragic."
Junie thought lost luggage sounded pretty tragic to her, but she did not want to pick a fight with Jasmine right now. Not while she was on a tear.
But Jade, however, took the bait. "So you think you did that?"
Jasmine replied, "Hey, maybe it's me, maybe it's karma. I just usually get someone's vibe, y'know? And when their luck is about to turn, well, I just pile on."
She finished her explanation, but Jade did not look convinced. "Ok, and so now you want to try blessings instead?"
"Sort of." Jasmine lifted the herb bundle and held it over the fireplace. "We start small. Cleanse the space. Then add some luck. A good luck charm."
The sisters exchanged uneasy looks.
"Is that gold nail polish in your hand?" Junie asked.
Jasmine flashed her palm. "Uh, yeah. It can come in handy sometimes."
They decided they had nothing to lose, and start to go through the motions. Jasmine lit a candle, then passed the bundle of herbs through the flame until it smoked. The scent was sharp and earthy. She walked the perimeter of the room, humming to herself. Then, as she circled near the locket still resting on the side table, she felt words form naturally:
"Keep harm at bay
Draw light, not dread
By locket's guard
Be danger fled."
Jade watched with crossed arms but didn’t interrupt.
Junie tilted her head. "Did you make that up just now?"
Even Jasmine herself looked surprised. "Yeah."
"It actually rhymed," Jade said reluctantly. "Sort of."
"It felt... right," Jasmine admitted. Her fingers tingled. She sat beside the locket and exhaled slowly.
For a few seconds, nothing happened. Then the flame on the candle flickered blue. A pulse of heat rolled through the room. The herb bundle crumbled to ash.
Jade’s eyes widened. "That wasn’t from the candle."
Junie looked at Jasmine. "What did you do?"
Jasmine leaned in and squinted her eyes, peering closely. "I think… I blessed it."
Later that night, after Jade had gone back to her books and Junie to her journal, Jasmine sat on the floor, examining the locket.
She felt it call to her, faintly, the way an old song might lazily draw your attention across a room. The protection spell hadn’t been perfect, she knew that. But it had worked. The house felt quieter now. She felt she could breathe a bit more easily.
Outside, wind rustled the trees. Somewhere in the distance, a dog barked.
She traced the locket’s seam with her thumb. When she opened it, inside was a folded slip of yellowed paper.
She hadn’t seen that before.
Carefully, she unfolded it. A poem (a spell? she wondered) in looping script. Three lines. No signature. Just words:
Blood to bind
Light to seal
Threefold voice to lock the deal.
Jasmine stared at it, feeling a weight beginning to press down around her.