Chapter 14 Julia
Julia
The iron gates swing open with a groan, and we follow the winding cobblestones toward Elizabeth’s mansion.
The full moon taunts us overhead. Already midnight. Time is bleeding away like a wound that will not clot.
I clench my fists, ready for whatever awaits. My renewed power pulses hot beneath my skin, and Hannah’s kiss is still on my lips, tasting like cake and white wine.
Of the hundreds of people I’ve fed on, none have made me want to linger in the aftermath like this, to savor rather than simply take and move on. What’s so different about her?
I want to believe this hunger for her is just my nature as a sanguine witch, nothing more. But some deep part of me wants to know her intimately. To do more than kiss her, and not just for the purpose of feeding.
The autumn air bites at my cheeks, clearing some of the haze.
I drag my attention from Hannah’s warmth beside me to the path ahead, where the house looms against the night sky.
It boasts a century and a half of accumulated wealth that renders the cottages in my memory pitiful in comparison.
Light glows through the large windows, spilling onto the stone steps carved with protection runes.
They don’t burn bright at my approach, which bodes well.
The oak doors swing open before we knock, and Hannah freezes at the threshold, as if instinct is warning her not to enter.
I press my hand to the small of her back and guide her into the foyer, where a staircase curves around a crystal chandelier. Marble cats sit glaring at us along the perimeter.
“Come in,” Elizabeth calls from deeper in the house.
My relief at finally hearing a coven sister extinguishes quickly as a ripple travels down my spine. I have to stay cautious. It’s possible Rebecca wasn’t working alone and I’m leading us into a trap.
I curl my fingers, ready to fight if that’s what it comes to.
We follow Elizabeth’s voice into a parlor, where shadows dance across overstuffed furniture, an enormous Persian rug, ornate sconces on the walls, and a large bookcase beside the fireplace. The decor is more reminiscent of my time, easing my mind after spending all evening in an unfamiliar world.
Two figures sit in wingback chairs facing the flames, bone china teacups steaming beside them on end tables.
My heart stutters as they turn.
Elizabeth’s black coils are now silver, and her deep brown skin is wrinkled and age-spotted.
Her bright green eyes are even sharper and more knowing than I remember.
She wears a flowing green gown that shimmers like a pond, and her magic is as strong as ever, making my skin prickle.
She smiles, but I can’t smile back because the woman seated next to her has turned my blood to ice.
“How—dare you,” I snarl, stepping forward. Everything I want to shout gathers in my throat at once, choking me.
Rebecca is still devastating after all these years.
Those dark eyes that looked at me with desire before she cursed me now glitter coldly.
Her blonde hair is streaked with gray, and age has carved lines into her face that only make her more beautifully severe.
Her black dress clings to curves I remember too well, and when she smiles, the wickedness of it makes me wonder how I never saw her deceit coming.
“Julia,” she purrs, crossing her legs. “You look radiant. Though I suppose a century of beauty sleep will do that.”
My magic coils like a serpent ready to strike. “And I have you to thank for that?”
Rebecca’s answering sneer makes molten rage bubble inside me. I’ll kill her.
The fireplace crackles, sending sparks up the chimney. The heat should be comforting after the cold night air, but instead it reminds me of another fire, another house, the night she must have whispered a curse against my skin while I was too drunk on pleasure to notice.
“Tell me how to break it,” I say, flexing my fingers.
Rebecca hums, pretending to consider.
I wonder what the best way to force her to talk is. Which method of torture would be most effective on Rebecca Cooper…
“It’s nice to see you after so long, Julia,” Elizabeth interjects, lifting her teacup to her lips. “How did you find us?”
“Necromancy. One of Florence’s descendants.”
Elizabeth and Rebecca exchange a knowing look. “Maya,” Elizabeth says. “She’s been a difficult one to recruit. More powerful than she pretends to be.”
I scan the otherwise empty room, concerned with more pressing matters than Maya. “Are you all that’s left?”
“The other sisters have gone home for the night.” Elizabeth takes a sip and places her cup back on the end table. “Nina moved to Portugal, and we lost Florence and Patricia to some nasty business, but the rest have stuck around.”
Do I risk asking what happened to them? Witch deaths are rarely simple, and the details are often gruesome. I open my mouth but stop myself, because Rebecca’s gaze has landed on Hannah like a snake spotting a mouse.
“You must be Julia’s new pet.” Rebecca arches an eyebrow playfully. “She’s quite lovely, Julia. Lucky you.”
Something white-hot roars inside me, but before I can respond, Hannah snaps, “I’m standing right here. And I’m not anyone’s pet.”
Rebecca’s eyebrows rise. “Oh, she has claws!” She turns to address Hannah. “Julia must love how feisty you are. How many times has she fed on you?”
“Enough, Rebecca.” I step toward her, magic sparking between my fingers.
Rebecca jumps to her feet and lifts her hands in defense, all playfulness gone.
“Not in my house,” Elizabeth warns, standing too.
I stop. We stare at each other, a standoff, the room humming with magic like lightning gathering to strike. Rebecca’s chin is up, her nostrils flaring.
“Still the same witch who threw a bowl at Florence on her first day in the coven, I see,” Elizabeth says, regarding me over her nose.
I drop my hands, balling my fists.
It’s disorienting to see my sisters aged by a century while I remain frozen at forty.
My gaze catches on features that betray their years—a wrinkle here, an age spot there, a gauntness in their cheeks that were once round and full.
Even the way they speak has changed, like the way Hannah speaks.
They’ve lived through a century of seasons, love and loss, and thousands of sunsets.
Time has carved lines into their faces and wisdom into their eyes while they’ve led rich, full lives. I, meanwhile, have had nothing.
“If I were you,” I say to Rebecca, “I would’ve just killed me instead of wasting time sealing me inside a book.”
Rebecca hums. “I’ve had a word with the witch responsible for said relic.”
“Speaking of, we have gained a few new coven members since you left us,” Elizabeth says as if I went on a little holiday. “Descendants blessed with the craft. I believe your pet knows one of them.” She raises her voice and calls out, “Riley, darling, come say hello.”
Riley? Was this not the name of…
Beside me, Hannah goes rigid. Her sharp inhale cuts through the room. As soft footsteps approach in the foyer, her eyes widen and her face pales.
A young woman enters wearing a crimson cloak with the hood swept back. Her power is tangible beneath my skin, hot and prickling—a formidable witch in the making.
At first, I see no relation to Rebecca. She’s just a fawn, uncertain and wide-eyed, with dark curls, brown skin dusted with freckles, and a lean, strong frame.
But the more I look, the more Rebecca’s features peek through: striking cheekbones, straight nose, light brown eyes that calculate everything around her.
Elizabeth’s teacup clinks against its saucer, the sound too loud in the silence. “The coven elected me as the new High Priestess, by the way. So she and Rebecca have been staying with me while she completes her apprenticeship. Last night was her first coven circle.”
Hannah has eyes only for the girl who broke her heart. “You’re really a witch,” she says through clenched teeth, her eyes growing glossy.
Fire surges through me as this girl who Hannah once loved lands in our midst. Who Hannah probably still loves. My fingers curl into claws, but I say nothing, afraid of what comments I’ll invite if I defend Hannah in front of Rebecca.
Riley’s eyes become glossy too. “I’m sorry. I had to.”
“Had to what?” Hannah swipes her damp cheeks with a trembling hand. “Pretend you loved me so you could plant a cursed journal on me?”
Riley shakes her head, her eyebrows pulling down with desperation. “Break up with you. I didn’t know I was— That I would—” Her breaths quicken, and she looks to Rebecca as if seeking reassurance.
Rebecca strides over and places a hand on Riley’s shoulder. “When Riley came into her magic, her mother passed the journal down with the intent that she keeps it guarded, as all the women in my lineage have done since I cursed you.”
“I only just found out I’m a witch,” Riley blurts.
Hannah glares, this explanation evidently not good enough.
Before these star-crossed lovers can lament their breakup any further, I huff, smoothing my cloak. “So you got your revenge by sealing me inside a book,” I say to Rebecca. “You passed it down to keep it safe, but this girl gave it away to someone who accidentally set me free.”
Riley shifts, casting a guilty glance at Rebecca before dropping her gaze to her feet. She twists her fingers together.
“Why not just kill me?” I snap.
Rebecca tilts her head. “And let you get away with what you did? No, I’d rather force you to understand how it feels to be dependent on someone. I want you to feel the terrifying intimacy of giving someone power over your very existence.”
Her gaze flicks to Hannah, a satisfied smile curving her lips.
An icy sensation fills me. I should have known her curse had layers. It was carefully calculated revenge that took months to plan and execute.
“You all knew about this and didn’t stop her?” I ask Elizabeth, hating how my voice wavers.