1. Chapter One
Chapter One
"Grandmother?" I call out to her, closing the door behind me and locking it. Grandma doesn't like to leave the door unlocked; she claims there is too much evil on the streets of New Orleans these days. I say that evil existed even before.
I shove my key firmly into my bag and place it on the dresser. A rich aroma hits my nose just as I reach the living room, making me groan. The loud growling of my stomach reminds me that I haven’t eaten since last night.
"Granny? You here? Oh my stars, what a smell! I'm starving," I add as my stomach continues rumbling.
"I'm in the kitchen," she calls as I enter. "I 'm just making your favorite dish."
The strong smell makes me feel nostalgic. It's been far too long since I ate this. "It smells delicious," I say with a smile as I come face-to-face with my lifeline—my grandma.
Her lips curl into the sweetest smile as her eyes twinkle. "Sit, sit. It's ready." She adds the homemade apple sauce filling into the beignets before adding a mountain of powdered sugar.
"I'm starving," I say, moving close to my grandma. I place a kiss on her cheek. "I missed you."
"Missed you too, kiddo. You haven’t been here all week. What have you been up to?"
"Nothing much. One of the guys at the bar took off, so I've been taking up more shifts."
"You shouldn’t stress yourself too much."
"I know, but the money is good, so there’s that."
"You know that if you need a place to stay, your old bedroom is waiting for you. You can always come back here. I know I'm just an old lady, but this old lady promises to always cook for you." She says the last part with lightness, making me smile.
Placing my palm on her delicate wrinkled face, I say, "Firstly, I love this old lady. Actually, this old lady is my favorite person in the whole world." At my declaration, her eyes began to well up. "But I'm afraid of putting on too much weight," I joke, tracing the tear lines and wiping them with my fingers.
It takes her a minute to get over her emotions before replying, "You would do well to remember no man likes skin and bones."
"Skin and bones," we say together as usual.
"You need to put a little weight on because you're too skinny," Grandma says.
"I'm not looking for a boyfriend right now. I need to sort my shit out first."
"You know I don’t like that kind of language around here. You’d better sit down and eat before it gets cold," she grumbles, placing three beignets on a plate and pushing it in front of me.
Grandma believes in early marriage. She tied the knot at seventeen. With me being single and not so much as thinking about getting married, it's hard on her. We used to have many discussions about it, and at some point, she just gave up.
I let the sweet scent sink in as I feel as sudden grin. Grabbing a large piece, I take a chunk out of it, savoring every bite. "Gosh, that's amazing," I say between bites. "Thank you."
"Good, eat it up. it scares me how skinny you’ve become."
Rolling my eyes, I continue to chew on the piece of heaven she created, knowing that if I stopped, I’d probably make some remark about me not being as skinny as she paints.
Swallowing the last piece with effort, I decide to ask what's been bugging me for some time now. "Has Mom contacted you lately?" The issue of my mom's whereabouts always leaves a bitter taste.
"No, dear. She didn’t and, frankly, I'm worried." Wrinkling her brows, she looks down as worry covers her features. I hate Mom for doing this. All the stress she has put my grandma through has made her grow old faster. She is only pushing fifty-six, but she looks much older.
“She must be around somewhere, or else you would have felt it,” Granny says we are all connected in our coven, and we can feel each other’s death when the time comes. I don’t know if it’s really true or if she is making it up to reassure herself. So, I just remind her what she used to tell me. Knowing my mom, she’s probably out enjoying herself without a care in the world.
"You don’t have to make me feel better. I know I’ve made some mistakes,” she says, owning her words. She sighed heavily .
She always blames herself for Mom's behavior. Says that she should have been more there for her when Father died and that if she had been stricter, she would have demanded that my mother show more responsibility. Now, it's too late.
She places her soft hand on top of mine.
"She made her choice. It isn’t on you." Placing my free hand on top of hers, I squeeze a bit. "You are the best. I love you and you have done more than enough for her."
She takes a deep breath, shaking her head before dismissing the topic. "What is Rosie up to these days? You know I love that girl."
Rosie is my best friend. We’ve been friends forever and she’s practically part of the family. I confided in her about my heavy family history, and instead of bolting like others have, she stood in awe. We were in second grade when she moved to New Orleans with her family.
I remember the day I told her my family was cursed.
After Aria—my nemesis and former friend—made me trip and drop my lunch, the new girl came to my rescue. Not long after that, I told her everything in an attempt to shake her off me. The first few years in school taught me that sometimes being alone was for the best. At first, I thought Rosie would laugh at me and then make jokes about it, but instead, she looked at me, fascinated, and after that, we became inseparable.
"She loves you back,” I told her. “She’s doing good. Just broke up with her dick of a boyfriend."
"Hailey," Granny scolds.
"He’s a piece of shit."
"I told her a long time ago to break things off. He didn’t seem the type to settle down."
"I don't think Rosie is one to settle down."
"That's nonsense. She’s a good girl!"
Granny is funny, there’s no denying that. I’ll never get tired of her spirit.
"She shouldn’t date guys she meets in clubs,” she says. “They’re never serious."
"And how would you know?" I ask with a smile. Grandma is so old-fashioned that I just can't picture her dressing up and partying. She’s a homey kind of a woman, or so I thought
"Don’t look so surprised! I’ve had my share of club guys dancing around me, but my eyes were set on your grandpa the whole time."
"Never knew you were so unreserved."
"I'm far from innocent. Your grandpa wasn’t my first kiss, but he was my first lay."
"Granny!" I protest, wrinkling my nose. "That's just gross. I don’t need to hear about your love life."
"Don’t be so dramatic. That's the way life is." She waves her hands dismissively. Rolling my eyes, I can't help but smile. "Tell Rosie I look forward to seeing her on Saturday for lunch."
"Will do. She misses your cooking." I’m pretty sure everyone loves my granny’s cooking, and she knows it. She was blessed in the kitchen, a trait that didn’t pass on to my mother and me. All I can cook is scrambled eggs, and that's barely, because half the time I burn it, or it comes out dry.
They say that when you love things, you can do them well. I guess I never did love cooking, though as a spell caster, I had to master the skill of cooking. Even though I never did, spellcasting came easily to me. As a kid, when Granny used to call me to help, I always found excuses not to do it. While was her thing, mine was always books. It was like they bewitched me.
Mom always said I was just too curious, like a cat. Good thing books can't kill you.
"When does your shift start?"
"In half an hour. I have to pass by the library first. I heard they’re bringing in a new, interesting book," I say, drying my hand with a towel .
“Another one? We have so many in this house. Why would you need another one?”
My granny owns a decent number of books. In fact, the walls of the basement are hidden by shelves upon shelves of them. The books in her possession are ancient, most of them witch books, but there are also historical ones.
Books I finished reading by the time I turned seventeen.
“I already read every book in your library, and I’m curious." Turning to face her, I look again at her delicate features.
“Just don’t forget to date more than you read. You do know I won’t live forever, and I would like to meet my great-grandchild," she says matter-of-factly.
If my mother had demanded I settle down and get married, I would probably have made a nasty remark. But when it comes from my grandmother, the woman who was always there for me, I just smile back. She knows I'm not there yet.
Smiling, I reply softly. “Just because I can’t use magic doesn’t mean I shouldn’t learn more about it. What if I could access my magic one day? Wouldn’t that be easier?"
I will never succumb to the curse preventing us from accessing our magic.
“You are still fixated with this magic stuff. You should let it go. ”
“How can you say that? I can’t let go of the fact that I’m a witch.”
“But you aren’t. We aren’t. Not anymore, at least," she whispers, her eyes turning sad.
Blowing out a breath, I reply, “I feel this power inside me. I can’t ignore it, okay? I’m sorry for making it difficult for you, but I feel that the power within me grows stronger every time I learn another spell.”
I can't imagine a world where I'm not part of this life. Part of the witch world, even though, technically, I'm not. Many years ago, my family made a mistake, and now we’re paying for it. Generation after generation, we are forced to feel this absence that consumes us slowly.
From a young age, my mother told me about our lineage. The dynasty that sinned. A sin that exacted too high a price for all my dear ones.
My mother lost her mind over it. My grandmother is lonely from it, and me… I'm curious about it in a way I haven't been about anything else. It's a feeling that's hard to describe. Emptiness alongside the need to know more and more. With each piece of knowledge, I feel the emptiness diminish until it takes over again, and so my curiosity grows.
“You know I love you, right?” I nod, feeling her tremble. “You need to realize there is nothing you can do to change our fate. It is sealed.”
“I know, but I… maybe I can go to the council and talk to them.”
“No. Don’t you dare go there. There’s no point. The council won’t help us, the cursed ones.”
“But how can you know? You’ve never actually been there.”
“No buts. Promise me you will let it go.”
“You can’t mak—”
"Promise me," she demands, her voice turning harsh.
Blinking twice, I promise as a cloud of pain hangs over me; a reminder of my imperfection without full access to my magic.
***
Later, I brush off the idea of visiting the library and instead head to the club early. I send a quick message to Rosie that I'm going to be early for my shift before heading down the club's side street.
"What's going on, Lucas?" I ask the security guard as he places a chair in the entrance, where he sits to wait for customers to arrive.
"Everything is peachy, Hailey. What about you?" he answers dryly.
"That bad, huh?"
"The big boss is inside handing out instructions, so you still have a chance to skip your shift before you come in," he answers, making me chuckle. “I won’t rat you out.”
"That’s good to know. Thanks, Lucas, but I can handle him. He doesn't scare me, and I need my paycheck.”
"Yeah, I get you.”
“Well, see you inside on your break. Free drink on me,” I say before going inside.
Cutting through the empty dance floor, I make my way to the bar ahead. The lights are dim and, as I move forward, I see Dean, the club manager, replacing empty bottles with full ones.
“Hailey! Good, you’re here. I need you to wash the floor real quick and then continue to wipe the tables. Then I need you to be on the bar shift alone. We’re short on staff.”
“Aren’t we always,” I mumble to myself.
“What?” he asks, placing another bottle on the shelf .
“Nothing. It's just I don’t get why you aren’t hiring more staff," I say, trying to sound confident. I’ve worked in this club for years now. Though I know he’s a good guy, Dean is fairly new, and I can't let him think he can take advantage of the fact that I'm just a bartender to force additional duties on me without raising my salary. The pay here is good, but I would never say no to a raise.
My life’s motto is, ‘you want more, pay more’. My grandmother always said, 'for people to believe in you, you have to believe in yourself'. That's what I’m doing.
"I don’t like what you’re insinuating. We will get more workers. I’m working on that. In the meantime, your help is highly appreciated," he says firmly before taking his leave toward the back office.
The rest of the preparations for the evening go smoothly. After mopping the floor and going over the tables with a damp cloth, Rosie arrives. Together, we finish arranging the drinks at the bar and adding clean glasses to the shelves below.
Soon, the music starts playing in the background and people arrive and fill the dance floor.
I hand the glass of whiskey to a guy who is sitting alone at the end of the bar and turn to a group of men who have gathered around and are waiting to be served. "What would you like to order, fellas?"
"Heineken. Make it five," the one with the dirty blond hair shouts over the loud music.
"Sure," I say and catch his eye. I turn towards Rosie, who is serving drinks to another group. Rolling my eyes, I start filling the beer cups with drinks.
"The guy by the bar with the blue eyes and the brown hair is looking at you like he wants to eat you," I tell her now I'm standing close enough.
She lets out a snort. "Let him stand in line, baby." Her eyes flicker to the side as she looks him up and down. "Oh, shit. He's really good-looking. Maybe I'll move him to number one on the list." She giggles.
"You do that." I laugh.
Handing the drinks to the guys, I take the cash. "Give her my number, will you?" the one with long black hair says, handing me a note.
Stashing it in my pocket, I reply with a hint of a smile before moving to the next customer.
"What can I get you?" I ask and look up.
I shouldn’t have looked at him. His mesmerizing eyes draw me in. They’re a mixture of gray with a pinch of honey. They shine in a way that cannot be human. I haven’t met creatures like him before, but I have read and heard about them all my life. My mother’s type of boyfriend. In all the books, they are described as monsters. If so, he is the most beautiful monster I’ve ever seen. Taken aback, I search for words but come up short.
Snap out of it, Hailey. He's the enemy.
What the hell is he doing here? I haven’t seen anything like him in this part of the city. Not that I travel to other areas.
I could ask him. He'll probably answer that he just went out to drink and let loose.
"I would like a Scotch, neat." His voice is rich and calm, making me more nervous.
He clears his throat, snapping me out of my thoughts. I shake my head before turning away. With trembling hands, I take the bottle and pour the contents into it while I practice breathing.
I hand him the glass with a napkin on its bottom. With calculated slowness and without taking his eyes off me, he raises the glass to his tempting lips before taking a long sip.
I blink and turn to take an order from another customer when he says, "You know, it took me a long time to find you, but it was worth it, Hailey Knox from the Terra coven." His words are like an echo in my ears, paralyzing me, and I find myself fighting for breath. "From your rapid heartbeat, I assume you know what I am." I nod, and he continues, "Good. That will save time later. I'm here to cut you a deal."
"I don't do deals with vampires," I manage to say, feeling pressure in the pit of my stomach. His face changes, becoming more serious. It makes him look more mysterious. He replies calmly. "Pity, because I know how to bring your magic back.”