Chapter 2
2
brAM
T he Grand Mystic Resort and Spa attracts visitors from all over the country. Although we’re a town full of witches, most of our guests are run-of-the-mill humans who wouldn’t believe in magic if it slapped them in the face.
Technically, the resort is a family business but my brother Roman and I are the ones who run it. The sprawling development boasts fifteen cabins, a main lodge with fifty rooms, and twelve villas. Actually, there are only eleven now. The one I used to live in was burned down by a fucked-up witch who used it as a distraction so she could kidnap Roman.
Along with lodgings, the resort also has multiple pools, a golf course, and a lake within sight of the main hotel.
Monday mornings are always quiet at the resort. After the holidays, it will be calm for the next few weeks. People are recovering from travel and too much fucking family time. I walk into the lobby and swing by the cafe just to the right of the main entrance to grab a cup of coffee. An employee straightens the pillows on the couch in front of a crackling fire that snaps in the massive stone fireplace. Another arranges fresh flowers on a credenza.
The barista Bettina has my mocha ready for me. It’s basically as close as I can come to having hot chocolate every morning, but with the added benefit of caffeine. She hands the cup over before I even have to ask. “Good morning, Mr. Blackthorn.”
I nod in greeting and head to the second floor, where Roman and I have our offices. The door to mine is open a crack. As I push inside, I’m expecting to find my brother. We often catch up in the mornings over coffee before getting to work.
“I’m surprised you’re here already. Figured you’d still be in bed with your…” My words trail off when it’s not Roman in my office, but my father.
Vincent Blackthorn is at the upper end of his fifties. He’s an arrogant son of a bitch who hasn’t lost his handsome features. Hair that used to be the same dark shade as mine has turned more salt and pepper these days. One thing both Roman and I share with this asshole are his steely gray eyes. When my father looks at you, there’s nothing but coldness staring back. As my curse progresses, I fear the same is happening to me.
The Blackthorns are one of the founding families of Mystic Hollows. That means that the firstborn in the family is born with a curse. In a twist of fucking sadistic fate, my mother’s family was also one of the original powerful families of Mystic Hollows. Because Roman and I have different mothers, both of us were born cursed.
“I assume you’re talking about that piece of trash from the Lumen coven your brother is fucking.” Vincent leans back, crossing his arms as he relaxes in my chair, behind my desk.
“Haven’t you heard, we’re all one big happy family now. No more Lumen versus Tenebris. We’re the Luminara coven. I hope you’re ready to hold hands and sing Kumbaya.” I don’t even touch on the comment about Josephine. If Roman heard our father talking about her like that, blood would be spilled. I haven’t even had a sip of coffee yet. I’m not about to stir up shit when I’m not the one getting laid.
I haven’t seen my father since the night of the winter solstice. We didn’t spend a joyful Christmas together, exchanging gifts. There were no happy holiday calls or text messages exchanged. Roman and I have been ignoring our parents for the moment, and they have been content to reciprocate.
Roman mentioned his mom and our dad were looking quite cozy chatting with Anastasia Lexington at the Winter Solstice gathering. She’s the predatory witch who tried to sexually assault my brother and burned my fucking house down. I’m not sure why the hell they would talk to her. Although when I stop to think about it, I’m not all that surprised. They had been pressuring Roman to get married and pop out a kid, and they declared Anastasia the perfect stock.
I’m not sure they’re even aware that Roman’s curse is broken, or that he’s one step closer to marrying to Josephine. They already practically live together. I guess because she’s not from the right side of the tracks, her magic isn’t good enough. Why they have this sudden fixation on him settling is anyone’s guess.
“Are you here to force me into a marriage this time? Give me a lecture on my responsibility to procreate?”
“Don’t be so dramatic,” Vincent huffs.
I sink into the chair across the desk from my father, stretching my legs in front of me. I cross them at the ankle and steeple my fingers together over my stomach.
“If that’s the case, what are you doing here?” I look around the office as though there might be clues scattered around. My father’s coat hangs on a rack in the corner of the room. The space is dusted and any mess I might have left behind has been picked up by the staff.
“If you’re looking for someone to get married and pass along the Blackthorn name, then Roman’s still your best bet. You might have to resign yourself to having a ‘piece of trash’ as your daughter-in-law.”
My friends and I recently uncovered a dark secret our covens have been keeping for the past several hundred years. In retaliation for being separated from her lover, the Briar Witch cursed the most powerful families in Mystic Hollows. It wasn’t because she was just a bitter woman with a bone to pick. Her coven literally killed him in front of her. That’s when she cursed the firstborns. A bit extreme if you ask me, but seeing the way Roman looks at Josephine, I can’t imagine what he’d do if my father, or anyone else, tried to separate them. Perhaps a new curse for the town to enjoy.
In an interesting twist of fate, Roman and Josephine somehow figured out a way to break their curses. We still don’t fully understand the how, but I know the others feel a glimmer of hope that they can break their curses as well.
Me? I’m a realist. My curse is a darkness slowly invading every corner of my consciousness. It’s like a beast living inside me that feeds off the negative emotions of others. Pulling in their rage, apathy, disgust, and filling me until there is no room for anything good left in me. It’s an infection on my soul and some days I don’t even know who I am anymore. Even now, my father’s irritation and impatience seeps into me, making everything darker, fueling my anger. I know I’ll never get rid of this curse. It’s a burden I will bear until it finally kills me.
My father visibly bristles. “Nothing that can’t be undone.”
The hatred and loathing rolling off my father finds its way to me, sinking into my skin like a toxic chemical infecting the cells of my body. My heart rate slows as my darkness and apathy refine themselves into a fine point. “Death is irrevocable, isn’t it?”
He swallows thickly, his eyes searching my face. Paling, he quickly looks away, then pushes from the desk to stand. “I didn’t come here to discuss nonsensical rumors.”
“Why are you here, then?”
“You were at the coven meeting this weekend. We’re throwing a masquerade ball for Lupercalia.” Vincent paces behind my desk, keeping his distance from me. It would be so easy to use my magic. To whip out a shadow and crush his windpipe. But I tamp down those urges.
“Who is this we?”
“You will be transforming our resort into a fantasy land. The ball will be held here. It’s a great honor for the coven to allow us to throw this party.”
I stare at my father, my jaw ticking. “I’m not a party planner.”
“Which is why I have arranged for help for you. She should be by later today.”
“We’ve got the Winter Carnival coming up. That takes a lot of the resort’s attention.”
I flounder for a reason why I can’t be involved.
“Then cancel it.”
I scowl. The Winter Carnival is a fundraiser for local schools.
“What makes you think I have any interest in doing this? I don’t give a shit about the coven and, honestly, I don’t give a shit about what you want.”
My father stops in front of the desk, some of his bravado returning when he leans forward, resting his hands on the back of the chair. “But you do love your brother, don’t you? You think you know darkness? Things can always get worse. This is still my hotel. You want to leave, be fully alone? Do you think your brother is going to come with you? And as much as you say that you don’t enjoy running this place, you do care for your staff, do you not? I would hate you to force me to have to let everybody go. To close down the resort. So many people would lose their jobs.” My father tsks mockingly as he shakes his head.
The darkness inside me lashes like a whip, a coil unleashing and threatening to spill into the room. My voice is cold when I speak. “You would really shut down the resort just to hold it over my head. I know you benefit from the profits this place makes.”
“I have money. I don’t need the resort to continue living just as I have been. But what about the sweet little barista? Who makes your coffee every morning. Or the front desk clerk. She just had her baby a few months back, didn’t she? You may be an unfeeling bastard, one whose darkness makes him unlovable, but has your curse taken away all of your humanity already? I thought you were more powerful than that.” A superior smile crawls up my father’s face. Ironic how he’s no longer cursed, but there’s no compassion left in the man.
It’s times like this, I know my curse hasn’t fully infiltrated my soul. If I didn’t care, then I could just tell him to fuck off.
Vincent tips his chin back. “I also think you’re forgetting your covenant with the coven. You are blood bound to honor the will of the council.”
I glare at the man who has had so little to do with my existence in the world. He’s got me, and he knows it. The threats to my employees, the fact that at an early age we’re all made to swear our loyalty to the coven. This is all about control, though. My father gets off on his own superiority.
I hold up my hands in surrender. “You win, Father. It must be exhausting being so honorable.” I laugh humorlessly. “What’s it like existing under the boot of the coven? Do they tell you when you can take a shit? Are you allowed to wipe your own ass?”
Vincent straightens his suit coat. “It’s no wonder your stepmother can’t stand the sight of you. Your crassness knows no bounds.”
“Yes, I’m sure that’s it and not because I’m a reminder that you fucked another woman while she was pregnant with your other son. You think she’d be used to that by now. How many other socialites have you dicked down over the years?”
My father’s jaw gets tighter as his eyes narrow to slits. “You will plan the most extravagant party this coven has ever seen. You will personally make sure every coven member is present. I will hold you accountable for any failure.” With those parting words, my father stomps out of my office, the door slamming behind him.
With a sigh, I move around the desk to sit in my recently vacated chair. No one in their right mind would come to me to plan a party. I hope whoever he sends knows what the fuck they’re doing.
There’s a stack of mail and a small package sitting on my desk. My hands are steady as I slice open the box. My curse is still cloaking most of my feelings beyond loathing, but I nearly choke when I look inside.
It’s a doll. One of those wide-eyed ones that I told Ava reminded me of her. A note lays on top of the thing, staring up at me. I unfold it and squint at the power, trying to interpret the horrible handwriting.
I know it’s not a sex doll, and I’m sure you already have this one in your collection, but you wouldn’t shut up about it. Try not to snuggle it to death at night. XXOO, Ava.
A huff of laughter escapes before I can hold it back. I press my lips together and glare down at the doll. Really?
The darkness pressing down on my body lightens just a little. This fucking woman is a menace.