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not always.
    The day she told me that, my father had been dead for three months. We were gardening—planting rosemary in remembrance of him. I stuck a steel trowel in the mud and along with a clump of soil, out popped a penny.
    It was a bright shiny copper, the color of Birdie’s hair, not dull as you might expect a penny buried in the dirt to be.
    She looked at the date and noted that it was the year my father had come into this world.
    “There, now,” she said. “You see that, Anastasia? That is your father waving hello.”
    There are rules to reading these messages. A penny cannot just be lying in the street. You can’t walk into a grocery store, see a penny on the floor near the cucumbers and assume it was sent from a spirit guide. It has to be in an unusual place. Like on top of a lamp. Or in an egg roll.
    Here’s what Birdie hadn’t know then. And still didn’t, today.
    Weeks before my father’s crash, I was finding pennies stamped with the year he was born everywhere . In my sock drawer. In my locker at school. Inside my gym shoes. Once, I even found one at the bottom of an ice cream cone. Coincidence? I think not.
    So to me, they are more than a wave. They are a warning.
    Right now, all I could think about was the danger waiting for me—for us—just around the corner.

 
     
    IVY GERAGHTY’S PERSONAL BOOK OF SHADOWS
    by Ivy Geraghty
    Entry #5
    Tonight marks the start of our Mission. Anastasia and I will stealthily break into her cottage and retrieve the Blessed Book (right, so she has a key, but we’re still going incognito so as not to disturb the Old One). It is the treasure that holds the secret to the whereabouts of our mother. I am certain of it!
    We shall tread quiet as mice. Slink careful as cats. And then, finally, we will have the Knowledge that will lead us to our mother’s Salvation. We shall slay those who have taken her (or at least kick ‘em in the nads) and Victory shall be ours!
    P.S: (There’s something freakalicious about the whole penny-in-the-egg roll thing. Can’t wait to crack that code.)
    -Ivy Geraghty, Junior Apprentice Warrior Goddess (in training)

 
     
     
    SEVENTEEN
     
    A few hours later, dressed head to toe in all black (Ivy’s idea), we left Chance’s house and headed up the hill to the inn. Thor wanted to come with us, but since The Geraghty Girls thought Chance was doggie sitting, I decided it might not be a good idea to have him wandering around the property, coating the windows with slobber. To Thor, giant house equaled warm, yummy food. Fiona spoiled the crap out of him, fixing him pot roast and mashed potatoes every Sunday. Which more than made up for the fact that Lolly treated him like a dress-up doll.
    The streets were bare, lit only by a few scattered streetlights and a sliver of moon. Aside from a few raccoons robbing a garbage can, the town was deadly quiet.
    The porch light glowed at the house, highlighting her best features. The Queen Anne was well over a century old, dripping with gingerbread, spindles and turrets painted in complimentary shades of teal, red, and purple. It was the details that made it stand out from the rest of the homes on the block. Amethyst boasted many architectural gems in various styles from Italian Renaissance to Federal brick, but something about the Geraghty Girls’ House beckoned you to step inside and discover her secrets.
    It was built by my maternal great-grandfather who willed it to his three daughters when he passed away. Since none of them had a husband at that stage in their lives, they decided to turn it into a bed and breakfast.
    There were three cars in the driveway. Presumably the three guest rooms were full. There was no movement from inside and just a few lights on. Wine and cheese hour had long passed so most likely, everyone was either asleep or enjoying a nightcap on Main Street.
    The black wrought iron gate framed only the main house so I tapped Ivy and pointed towards the cottage and she nodded.
    We