Chapter 29
29
brAM
“ E xplain,” I snap, tightening my shadows until David’s bone snaps off at the knee. He shrieks in pain, and I smile, feeling my curse surge forward to feed off the pain and misery. Whatever spell Piper found is powerful. How she made a skeleton feel pain is impressive.
“Stop. I’ll talk. I’ll talk. We found a workaround. Her curse was only meant for us. Those on the bridge that day.” His words come out in rapid fire.
Ava shakes her head and steps forward. “No. We’ve heard the curse. We have the Briar Witch’s grimoire. She cursed the firstborns of the most powerful families of Mystic Hollows.”
David cackles, his evil laughter a foul sound that feeds my curse. “We manipulated it all. That whore plagued us with the worst kind of curses. Half of the council died within a year. We had to figure out how to get rid of them.”
“What was the workaround?” Roman barks.
“We found a ritual to pass along our curses to our firstborns. My son was already a man of thirty-five when it transferred to him. We later learned that it set the paradigm for the ritual and passing on the curse. You had until your thirty-fifth year to do the ritual and have a child. If the child gained another year of age, then the curse would rebound to all the firstborns in the family who once had the curse.”
“And if you didn’t do the ritual?” Piper’s voice is soft, all of her fire diminished.
“Then you were saddled with the curse until you died.”
“What about your children, then?” Josephine asks, her voice soft with shock.
“Who cares. My curse would have killed me.”
“Are you saying that none of us would have a curse unless one of our parents performed the ritual to pass it along to us?” Ambrose is more serious than I’ve ever heard him.
“I see you are a generation of idiots.”
I tighten the shadows and David screams. “Yes. Yes! That’s exactly it. The curse could have died out in a generation.”
The only sound inside the tomb is the wind battering against the walls and whistling through cracks in the stone.
Piper’s hands are shaking, and she looks paler than usual under the lamplight. “I can’t hold it.” She gasps, sweat dotting her brow.
“I think we’ve heard enough,” I growl, and the bones clatter to the ground, lifeless once more. No one moves. I think we’re all in shock.
“Let’s get the fuck out of here.” I turn and shove open the doors, sucking in a deep breath of frozen air, needing to cleanse my lungs, my fucking soul. The dark presence of my curse is writhing inside me, feeling like a thousand insects buzzing beneath my skin. My curse has soaked up the malevolence and anger pouring from that thing in there like a sponge.
The others pile out of the mausoleum as if stumbling from a fire. I start walking. I don’t know what I need, but I have to get away from this place. From that evil fuck who is hopefully now back in hell burning for an eternity, even if I don’t believe such a place exists.
“Let’s go find somewhere to warm up,” Stellan says with a sigh.
“And something to eat.” Ambrose looks over at Piper. Her shoulders are slumped, head hanging.
“I’m not hungry.” Honestly, I’d prefer to scream into the woods than go discuss our feelings, which I know is what’s about to happen.
Ava jogs up to my side, her hand pressing into my back. I glance at her briefly before focusing on the ground. Short headstones pop up through the snow occasionally, and I’d like to avoid bashing my shin against one. “I’m not in the mood for company.”
“Yeah, well, you don’t need to go brood in the woods by yourself. And we need to sit down together and talk about what the fuck just happened.”
How does she know me this well? An uncomfortable ache burns low in my chest. She’s getting too close. We’re just supposed to be casual, and it’s quickly veering far away from the relaxed situation we agreed on.
I’m fucked. I’m not going to be lucky like my brother and magically lose my curse. My mother died from her curse and yet I still have one of my own. There is no cure or miracle waiting for me. I should put more distance between us.
“What do we need to discuss? How we’ve been lied to our whole lives?”
The snow crunches beneath my boots, and my breath streams out in a cloud of fog. Ava sniffs, but I don’t know if it’s because of the cold or if it’s because she’s upset.
“Some of us need to talk shit out to debrief. Can you stop walking so fast?” Ava hooks her hand through my arm and tugs.
“It’s not my fault you’re so short.”
“I’m not that short. Stop running away.”
I turn and face her. I’m not sure what’s about to come out of my mouth, but I snap it shut. Everyone has stopped walking and they’re all staring at us. Whatever we’re doing is just between the two of us. I don’t need the peanut gallery watching.
“Fine, let’s go.”
Our options for a quiet place to get food and warm up are very limited at this time of night. Marnie’s diner is lifted straight out of the fifties. The inside is decked out with black-and-white checkered floor, and red vinyl booths with chrome-sided tables and Formica tops. There’s a jukebox in the corner that is playing an Elvis tune when we walk inside. One employee, wearing a green waitress uniform with a name Flo stitched across the left side of her chest, is leaning on the counter and scrolling on her phone.
There’s no way her name is actually Flo. She sighs as her eyes drift over the eight of us. I’d guess she doesn’t get a lot of sober customers at two-thirty in the morning.
We push together two tables and sit four on each side. Roman is next to me, then Josephine and Piper. On the other side of the table across from me is Ava, next to her is Stellan, Odie, and then Ambrose.
The waitress slaps some water down onto our table and pulls a pencil from behind her ear. “We’re all out of soup. There’s no special tonight. Oh, and there’s no onion rings or mozzarella sticks either. I’ll give you some time.”
Before anyone can even get in a word Flo disappears to the back where there’s a cook making a lot of noise, which is surprising since we’re the only people in the restaurant. It’s not like he’s cooking food for other people.
“We’re here. What do we need to discuss?”
My brother turns and gives me a dirty look. “I think we need to make sure we all heard the same thing in there.”
“You think the skeleton cast a spell and told us all something different?”
Ava kicks me under the table. “Why are you so angry? We’re all in the same boat here. Stop being an asshole.”
Stellan lifts his hand for a high five, but Ava grabs his wrist and yanks his arm back down.
“What I heard is that our parents did a ritual to pass their curses on to us and that it’s not a generation curse. They chose this for us,” Piper says softly. Her skin is pale underneath the bright lights of the diner. Even her red hair seems dimmer.
“That’s what I got from the asshole as well,” Romans says, and the rest of the table nods.
“That doesn’t make sense.” I shake my head, reaching for a sugar packet for something to do with my hands. I flip it around, tapping each edge on the table. “My mother died with her curse intact, and I still have a curse.”
“But our father doesn’t have one anymore,” Roman points out, but he doesn’t sound certain.
“And you’re the firstborn.” The longer we talk, the more heated my words become.
“The firstborn with Roman’s mom,” Josephine adds sheepishly.
“That can’t be the loophole. Are you fucking kidding me.” I slap the sugar against the table and the packet explodes, grains of sweetener skittering across the tabletop.
Flo wanders back over to our table, her pad of paper and pencil at the ready. “What can I get you?”
We order a round of coffees and hot chocolates, since no one has an appetite. Flo glares at us, but then Ambrose raises a hand as he studies Piper’s face. “You need to eat something.” He turns to Flo. “A cheeseburger with sweet potato fries, please.”
Piper’s cheeks grow pink, and she murmurs, “I’m fine.”
“Sure. You’re not about to pass out at all. Just humor me.” Ambrose thanks Flo, who wanders away, mumbling something under her breath about wasting a table. As if there’s people waiting to be seated.
“Why did Briar’s grimoire say that the curse was for all the firstborns, if that wasn’t the case?” Odie signs. She’s wearing a stocking cap with her long blonde hair braided and hanging over her shoulder. The strands are starting to fall out of the braid. She rubs her eyes, looking tired. To be fair, we all look beat down.
“Still talking about curses. Do you guys ever talk about anything else?” Agatha Fitzsimons drops a heavy bag onto one of the booths next to us. Despite how cold it is, she’s clad in only her typical jogging suit, this time in a pale peach color. Her long white hair is pulled back in her usual braid and her eyes are bright, like it isn’t the middle of the night. Standing beside her is Morty, looking too fucking cheerful in a hot pink jumpsuit complete with a flouncy tie around the neck.
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping?” I’m barely in the mood for the company of friends. I’m not sure I can handle other people.
“I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” Fitz smirks at me.
“So any second now.” I shrug.
Ava kicks my shin under the table again just as Fitz flicks her finger. The water from my glass jumps up and splashes me in the face.
I glare at the old woman and wipe off my face. Morty inserts himself between me and Agatha, gently pushing the old woman back. She crosses her arms with a huff, acting more like a petulant teenager than someone who has seen at least one hundred years pass her by. Although both Morty and Fitz’s ages are questionable. Fitz has been around Mystic Hollows forever. Some say she’s used magic to prolong her life. Then there’s Morty, who looks like he’s forty, but he’s also been a resident of this town for longer than even our parents can remember.
“What sort of mischief have you all been up to tonight?” Fitz’s inspecting gaze drops on each of us one by one as if she can read our actions with just a look. Hell, maybe she can. We all know Agatha Fitzsimons is an elemental witch with an affinity for plants, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t have other powers.
Ava is messing with her glass of water until she spills half of it over her hands. She shoves them between her thighs and gnaws nervously on her lip. “Just a little magic spell.”
“Ava,” Stellan hisses and jerks his head in shut up gesture.
Ava whips off her stocking cap and mops her brow. “She makes me nervous.” She leans in toward her brother, but we all hear her.
“That’s because you’ve got more than one brain cell to rub together.” Fitz laughs and taps her cane on the floor.
It’s Morty’s turn to inspect us, but there’s nothing to outwardly indicate where we’ve been tonight. He sniffs loudly and narrows his eyes before turning toward Fitz. “They’ve been in a cemetery.”
The table has no fucking chill. If it wasn’t for the shock on everyone’s faces, Ambrose crying out, “how did you know?” would’ve been a dead giveaway.
Morty walks around the table and pulls a tiny potion out of a chest pocket on his jumpsuit. He sets it in front of Piper.
“Drink this before you pass out, my love. You really shouldn’t perform such strong spells if you’re not used to it. Reminder to you all not to let your magic wither away. It’s like any muscle, if you don’t use it, it will become weak.”
“I thought magic was a pool and once it was emptied, tough shit,” Stellan responds.
“It is, dumbass,” Fitz snaps back. “But if you’re not used to hauling buckets of water, you’re going to exhaust yourself.”
When Piper doesn’t immediately open the potion, Ambrose uncorks it and holds it out for her. She takes it with a shy “thank you” and tips the bottle back, drinking it all.
“Since you’re here, we may as well ask you.” Stellan looks over at Fitz, who has a spark of curiosity shining in her eyes. I don’t want to have this conversation. To dissect how our parents fucked us over. How my mother apparently was just as bad as the rest of them and still ended up dying from her curse.
“Enough. This is all bullshit,” I cut Stellan off before he voices those questions out loud, airing our dirty laundry. Besides, whatever that fucked up skeleton said can’t be trusted. He was one of the dicks who tried to force Briar to marry his son. He’s just an example of another power-hungry asshole.
“If anyone in this town knows anything about our curses and any rituals, it would be these two.” Roman frowns at me.
“The coven council might know something as well, but they aren’t likely to share any information with us.” Ava shakes her head.
“Is the only reason our curses have been passed down to us because our parents did a ritual?” Piper’s words shock the entire table into silence.
Both Fitz and Morty freeze. They cast a glance at one another before turning their attention back to our table. A slow smile creeps up Fitz’s face.
“Did you finally figure it out?” Fitz waves her cane in the air when the waitress heads our way. Flo spins on her heel and scampers back to the kitchen.
“Figure what out?” Roman rubs his forehead like he’s warding off a headache.
“That you’re all victims of your family's selfishness, rather than a centuries’ old curse,” Morty says, his voice nonchalant.
“You knew?” Ava gasps.
Anger screws up Fitz’s face and her eyes narrow to tiny slits. “There’s magic that can keep a person from speaking the truth. Even when they want to.”
“Who did that to you?” Piper looks ready to cry.
Fitz waves her hand Morty. “Go get me a chair.”
Morty spins around an unused chair from nearby. Fitz sits down at the head of our table, her hands folded over the dragon’s head of her cane. Morty stays standing behind her. Fitz always looks old, but she has a mischievous sparkle that lends a youthfulness to her appearance. In this moment, she looks every bit of her presumed age. Lines wrinkle her forehead and the bridge of her nose. Her mouth turns down in an unhappy frown.
“I’m not here to give you a history lesson. Suffice to say that Morty and I both found out the truth of the Briar Witch’s curse a long time ago.”
“Is that why you aren’t part of one of the covens?” Josephine asks.
Fitz holds up a crooked finger and jabs the air. “That is none of your business.”
Josephine gulps and slumps back into her seat.
“When the coven elders, which you now know as the coven council, realized I knew the truth, let's just say we came to an agreement. As part of that deal, I could never speak about Briar’s curse.”
Fitz swipes my glass of water and takes a drink, crunching down on a piece of ice before continuing.
“They didn’t realize there was a loophole.” That spark is back in her eye. “I don’t have to keep the secret if someone already knows the truth about her curse.”
“What about the ritual?” Odie signs. Ambrose asks the question out loud when Fitz shakes her head, not understanding.
Morty, who’s been quiet up until this point, slowly turns to look at Josephine. “I think you would have something to contribute to this conversation.”
Josephine presses her hand to her heart. “Me?” she squeaks.
“You have firsthand knowledge, my dear.”
Josephine's eyes grow wide with fear as she looks around the table. I frown at my brother and his girlfriend. Did they do this ritual to get rid of their curses?
“I didn’t. I would never.” Josephine shakes her head. “I would never wish my curse upon anyone, especially not a child of my own.”
Fitz slams her fist against the table. “Of course not. I’m not sure how your parents fucked up so badly. They must loathe the fact that they ended up with a bunch of reasonable, somewhat decent offspring.”
“Thank you?” Ava says with uncertainty.
“I wasn’t talking about you, hun,” Morty says to Josephine. “Your family. I wasn’t there, of course, but rumors have swirled. A little birdie told me your sister tried to perform a ritual on you. That wasn’t just the Delvauxs being horrible people.” Morty draws out the word horrible . “They were trying to play a game they weren’t even invited to.”
“What does that mean?” I snarl, tired of everyone beating around the bush. Just spit it out already.
Morty huffs, as if I’m ruining his fun. None of this is fun.
“After the original founding families were cursed, they found a workaround. A ritual they could do that got rid of their curse, and passed it along to the firstborn of the next generation. If, however, they didn’t complete this ritual and have a child by the time they were thirty-five, the curse would rebound back on them and any other living firstborns in the family. This is what happens when you play with fire. Magic will rebound three times worse as that which was originally cast.”
“But I didn’t do the ritual,” Josephine says, “And my curse had already been broken.”
Fitz waggles her finger at Roman’s ring finger where a delicate swirling of vines appeared a few months ago. Josephine has a matching mark on her ring finger.
“Because you met your fated bond. The Briar Witch spelled it out. Know the value of love over power. That is the most potent magic of them all.”
“Besides, your family fucked up the ritual.” Morty breaks up the moment, which I’ll begrudgingly admit is slightly touching. “They had someone who is not the bearer of the curse attempt to pass it along to the next generation. Your sister didn’t have the ability to do that. And now, from what I have heard, she and your parents are suffering the consequences of the rebounded curse.”
“Are you really saying love conquers all or some bullshit?” I snort. I take a sip of the coffee I’ve ignored up until this point. I grimace at the bitter taste. This is why I only get coffee from the hotel’s cafe. It tastes like shit everywhere else.
Fitz slowly rises from her seat, both of her gnarled hands flat on the table. Her skin looks paper thin, but her glare is hard as fucking stone. “Love is the most powerful magic that exists. If you’re too much of a fool to see it, then you’re a bigger idiot than I thought.”
I shove away from the table, but before I storm off, Morty stops me with a hand on my arm. “You haven’t been in for your potion lately.” His head cocks to the side, his eyes scanning my face. “Curious.”
I shake him off and excuse myself from the table. The heat from the diner and my layers of clothing are smothering me.
“I’ll be back.” I bark before pushing the door open so hard it whips back and creaks on its hinges. I step to the side, so no one can see me through the windows and yank down the zipper on my coat. The cold slaps me in the face, but I’m still too warm.
Snow has started to fall and there’s a thin layer covering the sidewalks and the tops of cars.
I respond to the squeak of the abused door opening before I see who it is. “I’m not in the mood.”
“That’s good, because it’s really fucking cold, and I wasn’t coming out here for that.” Ava’s teeth chatter as she wraps her scarf around her face. She looks so small in her oversized coat and winter gear. Light from the diner spills out onto the sidewalk, but Ava’s facing me, her features masked in shadows. I can barely make out her eyes. If I had to guess, she’s looking at me with kindness and understanding. Nothing I deserve.
“Fitz is kind of a dick. And, like, what are they doing out at three in the morning?”
“Let’s not do this.” I sigh. “You’re going to say something funny to get my mind off things. I’m going to pretend like I’m not riddled with darkness, and it’s all so fucking fake.”
Ava takes a step back, the light now highlighting the surprise on her face.
“See. I can’t even have a conversation without offending you.”
“I’m not offended.” Her mouth is pinched.
“You should be. Why would you let me speak to you like this? Are you a doormat?” I know I’ve taken it too far, but my curse is still feasting on all the festering darkness from David Ashenvale’s emotions.
Ava’s shoulders go up, her whole body tensing. “Bullshit. Is the big strong man having an emotion? Don’t know how to cope? Too fucking bad. They teach those skills to kindergartners. You need to talk about what you’re feeling. Maybe it’s time to grow up a little bit.”
I should walk away. Now isn’t the time for any conversation, with the mood I’m in. But what will be different in the morning? Tomorrow? Nothing. I’ll still be cursed to lose my humanity. To die just like my mother. I’ve never coveted someone else’s curse, but right now I wish I had Ava’s. Then she could forget me and her life would be better for it. Instead, I let the darkness take hold.
“Grow up? Like continuing to talk to your ex, who fucked some perky intern on your bed? Or maybe like pretending everything is puppies and rainbows when the world is going to literally forget you exist.”
“At least I’m dealing with my curse.”
“That’s questionable. You’re fucking around with me when we have no future. What does that say about you?”
Ava’s breath is ragged as she inhales. “Wow, Bram. Don’t hold back. Want to criticize my clothes next? My hair? Guess what? I’ve heard it all, for years. You’re just more negative buzzing in my ear. I’ve practically got my own choir of critics.” Her chin goes up and her features are tight. “To think, I came out to check if you were okay. Looks like you really aren’t.” She nods to herself. “But I’m going to take a page out of your book and say that’s not my fucking problem.”
Ava spins on her heel, nearly slipping on the fresh snow. I find myself reaching out to steady her, but she throws off my arm. “I’m perfectly capable of standing on my own two feet.” She slides back inside the diner without another word.
My throat aches as the frigid air slides into my lungs. Good, I want to hurt from the inside out.
The door creaks, signaling its opening once again. Roman steps outside, pulling a hat down low over his forehead.
“I don’t want to hear it,” I snarl, the twisted beast of my curse rearing its head. I may have pushed Ava away, but I didn’t want to physically hurt her. My brother is another thing altogether.
“I’m just checking on you.” He shoves his hands in his pockets, as if to appear harmless.
“I don’t need anyone to check on me. I don’t need anyone to take care of me. Go back inside with your curse breaker and leave me alone.”
Roman’s jaw clenches. “Stubborn asshole. You know, there are people who care about you, me included. It’s not a weakness to need people in your life.”
My shadows lash out and push Roman against the side of the diner. My curse rising up and washing out any common sense. Deep down, I don’t want to hurt my brother. He is one of the only people who has cared about me since the day we met. But everything is clouded in anger and darkness. Why does he get his curse broken? A mother who didn’t die from her curse? A fucking chance to live the life that has been stolen from me.
“You don’t know what this curse is like.” Shadows leak out of me, my voice a low growl that I don’t even recognize.
Roman’s jaw clenches, his nostrils flaring, but he doesn’t fight my shadows. “You’re full of shit. You think your curse is worse than mine? To never know physical contact for sixteen fucking years. You’ve convinced yourself that you’ve got the worst of it, but every one of us with a curse faces our own kind of torture.” He sighs and relaxes back into the wall, like I’m not nearly strangling him with my magic. “You can’t fight this alone, Bram.”
“I’m not worried about myself. You should be more concerned for your own self-preservation.”
“I know. That’s how I know your curse hasn’t replaced the real you,” Roman calmly replies. I take a step back, my shadows disappearing.
“I’ll leave you be, but don’t forget that I’m here. That I’ll always be your brother.” Roman walks back inside, leaving me to my racing thoughts.
I stay out in the cold, waiting for my fucking anger and bitterness to cool as much as my frozen skin.