Chapter 20 #2
It’s then that I notice the overflowing water. Quickly, I shut off the faucet and try to shake myself out of it.
Over my shoulder, I give the young witch a smirk and shrug. “Ghosts and nightmares will do that to you. Wanna switch bodies for an evening?”
One of her brows slowly arches in curiosity. “Is that possible?”
Esme and I break out in a laugh at her fearless intrigue, but Clover groans loudly, clearly not as entertained by her sister’s mischievous nature.
Setting the kettle on the wood-burning stove, I hop onto the counter and look at the four of them—taking in their beauty and camaraderie.
Rowyn is standing on the other side of the island grinding herbs for a potion she must be working on. Her bright red curls are practically glowing like fire under the morning sun’s rays.
Esme is sipping a cup of coffee in her typical milkmaid dress that hugs her curves and oozes sensuality more than I’ve ever seen anyone else ever accomplish. It somehow complements her natural moon-eyed expression perfectly, making anyone wonder if she’s falling in love with them when they talk.
The Foxglove sisters are sitting next to each other as Clover smiles softly down at her sister while sectioning off more hair.
Clementine flips through a random book she grabbed from the den, and when she laughs at something Esme says, she looks exactly like her sister, only younger.
They both have soft, round faces with the brightest grins I’ve ever seen.
Then I remember the promise I made them—to not hide things anymore.
It feels like I’m betraying Archer somehow, like I’m bringing more people into our space. I can’t be sure who he has shared our weird experience with, but I’ve always felt like it was just ours, a secret to the rest of the world.
Trying to explain it is hard enough, but adding in the complex layer of how he has been one of the main reasons I’ve never cared to enter a relationship with someone.
Despite the many beautiful women and attractive men I’ve met on my trips to the city, they were almost enticing and affectionate enough to make me consider abandoning my family sooner.
Almost.
Despite all that, my loyalty to this coven is stronger than it is to Archer. It would be a fool’s choice to choose a short-lived fate over the companionship of these women.
Even if it’s like I’m ripping my heart out just at the thought.
“I need to tell you something,” I chime in when their conversations come to a lull.
Everyone comes to a slow stop and turns in my direction. There’s a mix of reactions across their faces.
Concern from Rowyn.
Surprise from Esme and Clover.
And curiosity from Clementine, of course.
“I can see his face in my dreams now,” I tell them. I don’t know what else to say, so I wait for their inevitable questions.
“You’re sure?” Clover asks.
Esme and Clementine look at her like it was a stupid question.
“I’m sure,” I confirm with a nod. “I meant it when I said I’d recognize him anywhere—but don’t ask me how,” I add when I see Clementine open her mouth. “It doesn’t make any sense to me either, and I’ve had eleven years to think about it.”
Setting her bowl down and stepping around the counter, Rowyn asks, “Did you talk to him?” All four of them sit up straighter in interest. “What did he say?”
Shaking my head, I take a deep breath and look out the window again.
“No, we didn’t talk. I still can’t hear him. And I don’t think he can see or hear me,” I answer, hating the way my voice cracks toward the end. Saying it out loud makes it more real than it has up until now.
“That’s curious,” Rowyn muses.
Shrugging as nonchalantly as I can, I jump off the counter and hastily grab the kettle off the stovetop. My movements are jerkier than usual. The unsettling sensation creeping through my veins is suddenly setting me on edge.
“So,” Esme says slowly. I can hear the faint amusement in her voice. Peeking over my shoulder at her, I’m not sure whether I should anticipate laughing or crying at her joke. “It’s like you have to unlock every part of him before you can have sexy, wet dreams with him? Kinky.”
Clover and Rowyn’s heads turn in my direction, waiting for my reaction to Esme’s humor. I don’t know if it’s her crass joke or the look of disgust on Clementine’s face, but I don’t fight the laugh that breaks free.
It’s one of those soul-deep, genuine ones. The kind I don’t think I’ve experienced in over a decade—since my dad died and Agatha turned her back on me.
The type of laugh you aren’t sure you’re even in need of until you’re in a place safe enough to be entertained by such an immature joke.
“I guess that’s the gist of it,” I tell her.
“We saw him at the library yesterday,” Clover adds. “He was with a woman—I think his sister.”
“They could’ve been twins, but definitely siblings,” Esme agrees with a nod.
A weird sense of jealousy courses through me. I hate that they’ve gotten to see him. Learning that the woman he’s with is most likely a sibling calms a lot of the inky feeling that lingered for the last few days.
“He is hot,” Esme says in a teasing voice. “You should unlock all of that… then tell us all about it.”
“Oh, Mother Earth,” Rowyn mutters and shakes her head. It’s hard to see the blush on Rowyn’s ebony complexion, but it’s there. She doesn’t argue with Esme’s claim either. I arch a brow at her, and she nervously laughs.
I can’t help but wonder why she’s always so shy when the topic of sex comes up, especially as a Hearth Witch.
“Even if I was open to having that conversation with you,” I tease, “it’s never going to happen.”
They’re all silent and look to Rowyn, who’s wearing the maternal look she’s so keen on.
“You can’t run away from your fate forever,” she tells me.
With more aggression than necessary, I drop the steeper into my teacup and turn toward her.
“I’m not running from it, okay?” I argue defensively, hurt by her assumption. “There’s no point in getting attached to the man whose life may be the very thing I need to take to end this stupid curse.”
None of them say anything, probably unsure of what to say. In their defense, there’s no words to make any of this better.
Even if Archer was truly my archenemy somehow, I don’t think I’d be any more sold on the idea of killing him. Even for my safety.
However, I will do it for the women in this room, and all of the Gray Witches to come after me in the Blackthorn line.
“There might be another way,” Clover urges.
I stir honey into my tea and don’t bother disagreeing with her.
Instead, I tell them, “I’ll do what I have to do to protect all of you.
But I certainly will not kill any person until I’m positive I have all the facts.
I can’t get access to any of the restricted records or books without physically going to the library myself. ”
“We can do the research,” Clover quietly offers.
I nod, hating that I have to give so much control over to others but I’m currently helpless to do more.
“You can’t run from your fate forever,” Rowyn repeats, more serious this time.
She doesn’t bother explaining what she means, and I don’t ask. Instead we have a long stare-off. Ultimately my stubbornness wins out.
She lets out a deep sigh and shakes her head in defeat. “I’ll ask my grandpa what books he’d be okay with me bringing here.”
I’m about to say thank her when she grabs her bowl and turns away from me. Rowyn doesn’t show disappointment often, but the few times she has, it’s always directed at me.
I refuse to budge on this.
So I take my teacup and leave the kitchen, returning to my bed and Petra’s journal.