Chapter 16
16
AVA
M y brother and I sit in his car outside our parents’ house.
“You ready for this?” he asks with dread. We both frown as we stare at the place we grew up.
It’s an ugly house, built in the early nineties. My parents have added on several times, leaving it with mismatched roof lines and odd corners. The tan brick outside is like every mediocre decision my father has ever made. He believes his taste is impeccable. The rest of us are aware that it’s not. My mother decorates each new space to his specifics as they’re added on. That includes lots of floral valances and dark burgundy leather furniture.
I guess it’s fitting for my parents' relationship. Fitz said fated bonds are so rare because we’ve taken to marrying for power over love. My parents, this house, are a perfect example of the reality of that choice. A facade of elegance that is, in actuality, ugly as hell.
“Tell me again why we have to be here?” I whine and flip down the visor to check my make-up. It’s subtly applied so that it appears I’m not wearing any at all. If I have on bright lipstick, or too much eye shadow, my dad will point out that I look like a whore. If I don’t wear any make-up, he’ll comment on my sickly appearance. Normally, I wouldn’t attend a function at my parents’ house at all, but this is coven business.
All the founding families have been summoned to a gathering which is being hosted by my parents. Sometimes I wonder why I’m a member of our coven at all. Actually, I know why. It’s because we’re tied to our coven from an early age through blood. I only vaguely remember pledging my allegiance to my coven as a child. To leave your coven would be extremely painful and harmful for your magic. The coven can also choose to bind your magic. I’ve heard rumors of it happening over the years and I don’t want to find out if it’s true.
I’m not sure how Fitz and Morty have stayed out of the Mystic Hollows covens for all these years. It’s honestly impressive on multiple levels.
In theory, the idea of the coven is critical for witches. It’s supposed to center your magic, to bind you to the community. When one suffers, we all suffer. That’s how it should be, but I wouldn’t say that’s a great description of the old Lumen coven. So far, I’m not overly impressed with the Luminara coven either. We’re just repeating the same old shit and expecting different outcomes.
I received a directive from my father earlier today. The note required my attendance for dinner at his house this evening. A quick phone tree was initiated, and I found out that all of my friends had been summoned.
I follow Stellan inside the house with slow steps. My father is standing inside the foyer waiting for us. He’s wearing a suit and tie that’s too tight around his neck. “About time. You’re the last one here.” He directs the words at me, as if Stellan isn’t the one who drove our asses over here after dragging his feet leaving the apartment.
Our father spins on his heel and stalks off toward the formal dining room. I sigh as I follow him, and Stellan pats my shoulder. “Hang in there tonight.”
The wallpaper in the formal dining room is overly busy and the chandeliers that hang over the table are fussy. But that’s what my father likes. I have no idea what my mother’s taste is.
The room is full of the founding families. Almost all of them. I’m surprised to see Josephine's mother, father, and sister Camille here. The three of them stand a good distance from each other and shy away anytime someone comes near. They tried to force Josephine to do a ritual that would pass along her curse. It backfired and left the three of them reaping the fruits of their evil labor. They’re all now cursed to feel pain when touched. Sometimes karma works the way it should.
Josephine is at the opposite end of the room with her youngest sister Penelope and Roman, who’s glaring at anyone who even looks in their direction.
“Oh, this is going to be a pleasant evening,” Stellan murmurs beside me.
Bram, Ambrose, and Odie stand near Josephine, none of them looking happy. I don’t see Ambrose’s parents anywhere, which isn’t surprising. According to him, they’re very rarely in town. I doubt they would have flown in from whatever overseas destination they’re currently vacationing in to come to a dinner party at my parents’ house.
Vincent and Diana Blackthorn are speaking with Selene, tight expressions on their faces. Then there’s Piper. My heart breaks for her. She looks like a wilted flower standing next to her uncle Tucker Beaumont. Tucker is both a lazy asshole and controlling at the same time. He lives off the family fortune without lifting a finger to do a damn thing for anyone besides himself.
Piper is the Beaumont family heir, inherited after her father died when she was sixteen. Tucker took her in and became her legal guardian. I’ve always wondered how Piper hasn’t sneaked into his room and stabbed him in the middle of the night. He’s horrible. And a member of the coven council. Yay.
Tucker’s hair is buzzed short to hide his receding hairline. It’s a much lighter shade of red than Piper’s, and combined with his pale skin, he looks like a fucking serial killer. He’s a big man, but it’s mostly soft. That doesn’t mean he isn’t strong. Piper has had many bruises over the years that she’s tried to explain away with sad excuses, but we all know the real cause. Getting her out of his house was a day I will celebrate for years to come. That doesn’t mean she’s completely free of the asshole’s control.
Tucker has his hand on Piper’s elbow, holding her to his side as he talks to my mother. Piper’s way too practiced at hiding her feelings, but I can tell by the way his fingers are digging in that it has to hurt.
Ambrose has been watching with increasingly narrowing eyes. Tucker pinches Piper, and Ambrose’s jaw ticks. He strides across the room in his golden glory, holding his hand out to my mother and somehow managing to knock into Tucker. He’s forced to let go of Piper, and Ambrose slips right in between the two of them. It’s so perfectly maneuvered, I could almost believe it’s an accident, but Ambrose’s good humor momentarily fades when he looks at Piper. For a second, I barely recognize the good-humored man. His eyes darken and his jaw tenses, but then he flashes a bright smile, distracting the others around him as he shields Piper from her uncle.
Lucida saunters over to me, a glass filled with a dark red wine in her hand. I’ve been aware of the leader of the Tenebris coven for years, but know next to nothing about her. She’s in her late forties, although her age is hard to judge. In this case, I don’t believe she uses a glamour, just that she has good genes.
She’s wearing a dress that highlights her ample curves and yet somehow gives her a mystical appearance. Her long brown hair tumbles down her back in a cascade of curls. She always looks effortlessly earthy and beautiful. I, on the other hand, am wearing brown pants, a cream blouse, and a knitted sweater that even I think is ugly. Most of my clothing that isn’t jeans and T-shirts, are meant for the office, which is why they’re hideous. Plus, it has the added bonus of pissing off my dad, who believes women should dress for the admiration of men.
“Avalon, right? Thank you for having me in your home.”
I shake my head. “Ava, please. And this is definitely not my house.” I really need to stop blabbing about stuff other people don’t need to know. Next, I’ll inform her that my blouse was only three dollars at the discount rack at the thrift store. I peer down at the sad, cream affair. I really don’t think she’ll mention it.
Lucida offers up a secretive smile for me and peers around the room. My father’s taste runs ornate. He likes stuffy paintings and overly detailed furnishings. I think it’s fussy and cramped. As a kid, it made me feel closed in. The air was always heavier in the rooms my father favored. Walking back into this house tonight brings all those feelings rushing back like no time has passed. I rub a hand over my throat as if it’s starting to close up.
“So is this just a get to know each other thing?” I glance around the room, wondering where Lucida got that wine.
Lucida takes a slow sip of her drink, her eyes drifting over everyone in turn. “Apparently. Selene organized.” There’s a bite to her tone. I painstakingly keep my face from showing surprise.
“Oh, how…thoughtful.”
Lucida hums into her drink. “Yes, it’s been quite an adventure getting to know everyone.”
I peer over at the witch who led the Tenebris coven for years. The Lumen coven is full of awful people, but was their coven all that different? From what I know about Bram’s father, he’s a piece of shit. Ambrose’s parents are never around. I’m not actually sure which one of them sits on the council. Then there’s Odie’s younger brother. I’ve heard rumors about him, but haven’t seen him at a coven event yet. Not that we’ve had many joint coven outings at this point, but still.
I suppose in comparison to my father, Piper’s uncle, Josephine's mother, and Philip fucking Masters, the Tenebris witches might be a whole lot better. From this conversation, Lucida doesn’t appear to be fully on board with our newly formed coven. Or maybe I’m reading into things.
“Welcome founding families and Luminara council members. Alice and I are so pleased to have you in our home.” My father stands at the head of the long dining table. We’ve had many coven dinners in this room over the years. Each as unpleasant as the one before.
My mother has pulled out her winter themed decorations and plates for the evening. Glitter-coated snowflakes fill vases in lieu of flowers and are evenly spaced down the table. Because who doesn’t want a sprinkling of glitter in their food. The plates are as busy as the wallpaper. They’re decorated with a fussy holly and pinecone pattern that’s probably hand painted. Just because it’s expensive doesn’t mean it’s good taste.
“Let’s break bread and enjoy the company before we discuss any coven business.” My dad gestures toward the table and the group moves in to take our spots. There’s no assigned seating, but Stellan and I look at each other. We know where we belong. My father sits at the head of the table, my mother opposite him with twenty seats between them. Stellan’s spot is on my father’s right side, while mine is on the left. I’d prefer to hide in the middle, but one sharp look from my father, and I know I won’t get away with that.
Bram pulls out my seat, surprising me. “Did Fitz rub off on you?” I raise a brow as I sit.
“Avalon. Don’t be so familiar. I’m sure our guest would prefer you keep your thoughts to yourself,” my father snaps.
Bram slides into the chair beside me. “I’m quite capable of voicing my own opinions, Ivan.”
Diana Blackthorn scoffs. “That’s certainly true. I’ve never met someone who knows better than everyone around him.”
“Mother,” Roman scolds.
The amount of people around the table shooting daggers with their eyes is growing by the second.
“Before we eat, I want to make a toast to the coven. Let’s all affirm our continued support and loyalty to the new Luminara coven.” My father lifts his wine, effectively changing the topic. The rest of the room follows suit. Stellan and I lock eyes. Something about this feels more ritualistic than a regular old toast.
“Drink,” my father commands, and everyone takes at least a sip. There’s a flash of warmth that I’m not sure came from the wine.
A line of servants enters into the room with bowls of soup, breaking the growing tension by blocking a few people’s line of sight. My stomach lurches when a bowl of lumpy cream-colored liquid is set in front of me. It’s clam chowder, my father’s favorite. My parents have a chef they bring in for special occasions, like tonight’s party. Dear old dad thinks the man is the epitome of fine cuisine, but he’s a shit cook. Several years ago, I got food poisoning from this very soup. It looked exactly the same coming up as it did going down.
My stomach gives a heaving protest. I dip in my spoon and mix the thick soup around, hoping no one will notice when I don’t eat it. Bram frowns down at his bowl and doesn’t even bother picking up his spoon. Stellan eats it like he’s about to get shipped out and won’t have food available for the next month. I’ve seen him chow down on leftovers out of a garbage can, so that’s not saying much about his palate.
“Ava, I understand you and Bram are planning our Lupercalia party. How’s that going?” Lucida smiles at me from the middle of the table. I noticed she hasn’t touched her soup either.
“There’s nothing to worry about. Vincent and I are making sure these two are doing their job,” my father interjects before I get a chance to speak. “My daughter might be new to you, but let’s just say, she can be forgettable.” My father chuckles, and his jab hits its mark. “I mean forgetful.”
“Ava’s been an asset. I doubt we would have half the items checked off our list without her efficiency.” Bram points to a server to come and take his soup.
His stepmother giggles into her wine, the sound mean. “How unsurprising. Passing off the work. You always were lazy. I couldn’t get him to do a thing as a child.”
“That would have required speaking to me, Diana. I believe that could have been the problem.”
“Avalon.” My father glares at me, as if I’ve said a single word during this conversation. “I really hope you’re not trying to take control of the planning. She thinks she knows everything. Even as a child, there was no convincing her that she could possibly be wrong about anything. Isn’t that right, dear?” My father looks down the table at my mother.
Her smile is forced, but she doesn’t look at me as she says, “Yes, very stubborn.”
“You think she would know better. Her life’s been one failed exercise after another.” He picks up his glass, peering at me over the rim. “She disappeared from the family after taking up with a low-level witch. No loyalty these days,” my father says, and half the table nods in agreement. Assholes.
I push back from the table, throwing my napkin down on my untouched soup. “If you’ll excuse me.”
“Sit back down, Avalon,” my father snarls low enough that I doubt anyone but Stellan hears.
“I have to use the restroom.” I speak loudly so the others hear. If my father forces me to stay when I have to go to the bathroom, that would not be a good look. I keep my head down as I hurry out of the room. The second I’m out in the hallway, I yank off the knitted sweater and unbutton the first few buttons on my shirt. That suffocating feeling is back, and I drag my fingers down my neck like that’s going to help me breathe.
Winding down the maze of hallways, I reach the billiard room and push inside. There’s one lamp lit on a desk, but most of the room is hidden in shadows. I toss my sweater aside and lean my butt against the pool table. My head falls back, and I try to control the avalanche of emotions assaulting me.
“Your dad is a dick.”
I snap my head down so fast I give myself whiplash. Bram closes the door and leans his back against it.
“Yeah. He’s…” I struggle to find the right word to encapsulate everything that is my father, but fail. “Yeah.”
Bram looks good tonight. He’s wearing a suit without a tie. It’s formal, but still casual. Next to him I look like a turd. I’ve never felt so seen and yet so ugly at the same time as I do when I’m with Bram.
Feeling unattractive is my own fault. Well, maybe not entirely. Bram’s beautiful face and chiseled features don’t help.
“Your stepmom seems like a real piece of work,” I offer up, like we’re competing in the shitty parent Olympics. Except that’s a terrible competition, and we’re both basically losers in this game.
“She’s awful.” Bram steps away from the door, slowly stalking toward me. His eyes drop down to my chest, where I belatedly realize I’ve undone enough buttons to display an ample amount of cleavage.
“What are you doing in here, by the way?” I sound far too breathless for someone standing still.
Bram holds up his hand, showing me his phone. “I had a call.”
“Oh. Right. Busy guy.”
He’s still moving toward me, his eyes roaming my body. “You’re dressed like a homeless librarian again.”
I snap my mouth shut. I don’t even know when it dropped open. “Please, stop. I can’t handle the compliments.”
A crooked grin sneaks up one side of Bram’s face. “I didn’t say I don’t like it.” He makes a pained expression. “I think I like it a little too much.”
I’m always two seconds away from being turned on around Bram, but his words set off an inferno low in my belly. No one, and I mean no one, likes my ugly outfits. But Bram kissed me last weekend. What is this draw between us? Does he feel it too, or is it all in my imagination?
Bram stops directly in front of me, leaning down until his hands rest on the edge of the pool table. His face is mere inches away and his nose grazes the tip of mine.
“What is it about you?” he whispers.
“Me?” I give a tiny shake of my head. “What about me?”
Bram’s aura is a deep red. The shadows that normally swirl around him are all but gone. A pulse of lust thrums through me when Bram’s thumb brushes over my pinkie. It stabs straight through my heart. I can’t tell if it’s coming from me or if I just felt Bram’s emotions. My hands are splayed on the table, propping up my weight, but that one little touch turns my bones to jelly.
Bram’s eyes dip to my mouth. My pulse is thrumming in my chest. Is he going to kiss me again? I lift my chin and our lips brush. Bram sucks in a breath, and we freeze, just barely touching.
The door bounces open. I jolt in surprise, and Bram jumps away from me like a startled rabbit.
“Hey, guys. Did the party move?” My brother grins as he saunters into the room. “Ava, you all good? Did that chowder mess with your guts?” He swirls his finger in a circle over his stomach. “Did you get the poops, like that one time?”
“Crone’s saggy tits.” I slap a hand over my face. I hop off the pool table and shove past Bram. “No. My guts are just fine.”
Stellan snickers. Bram eyes him like my brother’s a bomb about to explode. His gaze darts to me for a fraction of a second.
“I should get back.” Bram doesn’t wait for a response before slipping out of the room like a thief.
“Thanks a lot, butthead.” I slap my brother’s shoulder. He cackles like the Wicked Witch before hopping up on the pool table.
“His aura was an interesting color.”
“Don’t start.” I hold my hand up in his face. I do not want to talk about the fact that Bram’s aura was a horny red. Not with my brother, at least.
“Gross. I didn’t mean that. We both know that there is something broken with him. He’s got all those inky tentacles in his aura.”
It’s not really my place to tell Stellan anything about Bram’s curse, but I want to defend him. I don’t want my brother to think there’s something wrong with Bram. Even if there absolutely is something not right with his aura. I also don’t want to examine why it’s important to me.
“It’s part of his curse. That’s all I’m going to say, and now you can stop mentioning it.”
Stellan nudges my arm with his elbow. “I’m just looking out for you. That’s what big brother’s do.”
“I’m older than you.” I roll my eyes. I’m not ready to go back to the party, but the sooner we get this done with, the sooner we can leave.
“Hey, you left your phone.” Stellan does some kind of ridiculous gymnastic dismount when he hops off the pool table.
My phone is in my bag, which is still in the dining room. “That’s not…” My thought flits away when I see Bram’s phone sitting on the felt. Lonely and waiting for me to get revenge. “Thanks. Give me a minute, and I’ll be right back to the party.”
Stellan gives me a skeptical look, but leaves me behind. I swipe at Bram’s phone and enter the code. I know it because I’ve watched Bram enter it a dozen times. He wasn’t exactly stealth or clever with his security.
“One, two, three, four.” I grin when the phone opens. I’ll just make a slight change and then make sure this gets back in his hands.