Chapter 8
8
brAM
A fter a day of tasting foods, gathering and confirming all the coven members’ addresses, Ava looks at her watch with a frown.
“I need to get over to the office before my boss leaves.”
“He can’t handle not seeing you every day.” I stand and stretch. We've been hunched over computers for half the day. Ava’s eyes drift down my body. I almost miss it, but she doesn’t look away fast enough.
“Not exactly. More like I need him to see my face so he doesn’t forget about me.”
“That easily replaced?” I mean it as a joke, but Ava’s face shudders.
“Pretty much the story of my life.” She packs up her bag and shrugs into her coat. I move behind her to help her fix the hood.
“It was caught,” I murmur, frozen in place with the back of my fingers touching her neck. She smells like sugared lemons, sweet and tart. Kind of like her personality. I linger there, unable to make myself move.
“Thanks.” Ava’s voice is breathy when she steps away. I take a deep breath that isn’t filled with the decadent scent of her, hoping it will clear my head.
“I’m just going to say hi to Roman quick, then I’ll be off.” She jerks her thumb over her shoulder toward the door. What’s with the urge to tell her to stay. I have work to do. I should have told her to go hours ago, but there’s something about being near her that feels good.
“Right. Tomorrow then.” I give her my back, marching to my desk as if it’s critical I get there.
“Sure. Have a good night.”
Ava shuts the office door behind her, and I slump back into my chair. I’m ready to call it a day, but I wasn’t lying, I do have work to catch up on. I’m answering emails when another sound comes from the corner of the room. It’s not the same as this morning, but more like mooing this time. I’ve lost it. Truly.
I ignore it and work for another thirty minutes before there’s a bark.
“What the fuck.” I push back from my desk and stomp over to the damn plant. Shoving the leaves aside, I search for something, anything, that would be making the noise.
I glare at the stupid fica. “Did someone enchant you to make animal sounds?” Is that even possible? Hell, people can do just about anything with magic–bar breaking a familial curse that afflicts each new generation of powerful families. I’ve never heard of someone using magic to do this, though.
“I’m done.” I give up. I don’t know what the fuck is wrong with my tree, and I don’t have the energy to find out. Grabbing my jacket and winter coat, I get the fuck away from my office that still smells like her.
It’s dark outside, and I didn’t leave any lights on in the house this morning so it’s just a dim shape in the night. Light spills out into the world when I open up the garage. It feels like someone else’s home. Like I don’t belong here. Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful I have a place to stay. Many people in a similar situation don’t have anywhere to go. They don’t have a brother who’s essentially the same size to lend them clothing until they have a chance to restock their wardrobe.
Clothing is one thing, but I lost nearly every part of me that was still compassionate in that fire. When my mom died and I moved in with my dad, he didn’t let me take much from my old life with me. All I had were some photographs and her record player. She used to love listening to music. I don’t have a ton of memories, but I can clearly picture my mother putting on a record and dancing around the kitchen while she baked. I lost all those things in the fire. The clothing, all my stuff, but none of that mattered as much as those pictures and the record player.
I’ve been sitting in my car for so long that the overhead light in the garage clicks off, throwing me back into darkness. My curse, which has been quiet all day, surges to life. I squeeze the steering wheel, the leather creaking under my fingers as the urge to rage, to scream at the night, overtakes me. I want to go find someone, anyone, and make them understand what true pain feels like.
My breath is labored as I nearly fall out of the car, clutching at my heart like I can rip it out and throw it on the ground. The dark shadows of my magic and my curse morph together until it’s as if a hand is wrapped around the organ and squeezing the life out of me. With each pump, it’s urging me to destroy.
Why isn’t the elixir working? I only took it last night. Fuck.
I stumble inside the house, not bothering with the lights. Sleep. I just need to sleep it off. When I wake up in the morning, it will be less. Not better, but maybe more manageable. My coat and shoes are left by the door, and I quickly shed the rest of my clothes. It’s as if they’re growing tighter by the second. They’re too clingy, too confining.
I kick off my pants and fall into bed, cracking my face on something hard.
“What the fuck?” I hiss, reaching over to turn on the bedside lamp to see what the hell I’ve just slammed into.
Sitting on my bed, neatly tucked under the covers, is the fucking doll.
Ava was here.