Chapter 24
Twenty-Four
Grey clouds hang over the skyscrapers that start to appear on the horizon. London. It feels like a lifetime ago since I left. But it has only been a few months. In that time my whole life has changed. My whole purpose.
For the journey I sit silently looking out of the window, going over and over in my head who could have told them, who could have betrayed Sam and Lola like that, and how I am going to make them pay for what they have done.
We pull up outside my old apartment building, the sky now drizzling with rain.
Mrs Belfour breaks the silence as I stare up at the many floors above us.
“He is expecting you. Maybe use this time to talk. He is not a bad person, you know, Harriet. And he will provide for you.” Again her eyes narrow at me over the top of her ridiculously large sunglasses.
I go to speak but she cuts me off sharply. “And tonight is a big deal, so at least look like you don’t mind him touching you.” She smiles and meets my eyes for acknowledgement. I just stare. I can’t even speak back.
She smirks. “Good girl, Harriet.” Then she shoos her hand at me and the door opens. The driver helps me out and tips his hat before getting back into the driving seat and driving the she-devil back to whatever pit she came from.
I stand looking up at my once beautiful home with its opulent reception and beautiful big windows. All I want is the cottage. Not this. Not anymore.
I pull my phone out from my pocket hoping to call Granny but it’s dead.
My own fault for not plugging it in last night at Sam’s.
My heart skips a beat. Sam. My beautiful and amazing Sam.
I pull his image from my brain. I can’t get emotional now.
If there’s anyone I have a chance of talking down from this stupid “deal”, it’s Greg.
I walk through the revolving door into the marble floored reception. I walk past the service desk and into the lifts, pressing the button to the floor where my old home lies waiting for me.
The corridor on the apartment floor feels like the green mile. I walk slowly until I reach the door and knock.
I hold my breath waiting to see what is behind the door. Will he be the Greg I know or the drunk idiot who showed up at the cottage?
It slowly opens and I am met with familiar eyes but instead of their usual bright confident stare I am met with caution.
He pulls the door open more. He is still in grey jogging bottoms and a stained T-shirt, his stubble unkempt and his hair not brushed.
He lets me in and moves to the side to let me pass then closes the door behind me.
We stand either side of the corridor just staring at each other in the awkward silence.
Greg opens his mouth to speak but I cut him off. “You used a child to trap me. Well done, Greg, well done,” I hiss at him clapping my hands with sarcasm.
He looks stunned and confused. “I don’t know what—”
“Shut up,” I bark as all the anger pours out of me, my body burning underneath my skin. “Is this what you really want? Because I tell you now, Greg, I am not playing the doting wife. Quite the opposite. I will never ever forgive you for this.”
He looks at his feet.
I can feel myself losing control. “Oh, don’t act like the victim now. You showed your true colours when you turned up at the cottage. Oh, and maybe when you screwed the worst human in the world,” I seethe.
“Harri, I was drunk and angry at you. You left me.” He shrugs sheepishly, careful not to be confrontational. Weak. This man is weak.
The anger bubbles under me, screaming in my veins to be released until I can’t take it anymore.
A primal scream pushes itself out of my throat as magic flies out of the tips of my fingers and into the pictures behind Greg, smashing them to the floor.
My breath pants and tears begin to pour down my face.
“You just had to move on. Leave me alone and move on,” I sob.
He shuffles to comfort me, trying to step over the glass now smashed all over the corridor. But he changes his mind, opting to brush back his hair and stand there for a moment at the girl in front of him.
He whispers quietly to me. “Come and sit, Harri. I’ll make you a drink.” He gestures to our living room. The kindness that Greg sometimes shows glistens in his eyes as he speaks.
I pause for a moment, looking at the now smashed pictures of us on the floor. Our engagement photos. “This is so fucked up, you know that, right?”
He stares at me for a moment before mumbling, “I know.”
“Then why?” I whisper back, the pain in my heart radiating into my body.
“I’ll make us a drink.” He gestures again to the living room.
Defeated, I follow.
I sit on the sofa and look around the sterile, lifeless room. The cleanliness and minimalism used to be something I loved. Now I look at it as an empty shell.
Greg makes us both a coffee and sets mine down on the coffee table.
He clears his throat. “You know, I didn’t choose this either. I was told to marry you. Told that this is the life I must live.”
I look at him. I can see the truth in the sadness in his eyes. I didn’t stop to think that maybe this was not what he wanted.
“It’s just what it is.” He sips his coffee.
I turn to him and grab his hands. “But it doesn’t have to be, Greg. You don’t have to be this way. If you don’t want this as much as I don’t then just say. Stop it. Tell your parents to stop.” I can feel my fingernails digging into his skin. I am desperate and pleading.
He pulls his hands from mine. “It’s not as simple as that, Harri. And remember, it’s your dad too.” His voice is frustrated with me.
He is right. It’s not just his family. It’s mine too.
He looks at me with puppy dog eyes. “Plus, I was hoping we could make it, you know, work,” he whispers, looking at me greedily.
My heart stops in my chest. “Greg, please don’t.” I shuffle back on the sofa to put some space between us.
He closes the gap. “Why, Harri? We used to be happy. We can get that again, forget what has happened, with both of us, with other people and just focus on us.” Is this boy delusional or has he been that spoilt that he just thinks whining is going to get him what he wants?
“I can’t, Greg.” I pull myself away again and shake my head. “You know I can’t do that.”
He holds his hands out towards me, begging me. “I know I messed up, but I am willing to work on this. I do love you, Harri, even as you are. Even with the things you have done.”
“Done?” My tone changes. What does he mean by done?
“That boy. Yes, I slept with Lauren, but you’ve been fucking another man the whole time you’ve been away.” He stares at me, his eyes glazing over with iciness.
“Oh, fuck off, Greg. He isn’t the reason why this didn’t work.” I point at us.
He reaches to the coffee table, placing his coffee down and pulling a half-empty bottle of whiskey to him. Slowly and intentionally he unscrews the cap and swigs from the bottle. He wipes the residue from his lips with the back of his hand.
“So, what was it then?” he asks, eyes narrowed and ready to snap.
“I don’t love you, Greg.” It blurts out and spears him the chest. He sits for a moment. Silent. Taking in what I have just said.
He throws the bottle towards the kitchen, smashing it into the kitchen island.
He stands up as I sit quietly on the sofa.
I have dealt with his rages before, but never as someone he hates.
He walks over to the sink and splashes water onto his face.
He doesn’t say anything. He just stands there, hands on the side and breathes out slowly before lifting his head, not turning towards me.
“I’m not going to betray my family and if I have to use your power, I will. ”
A coldness settles over the room.
He walks towards the bedroom and shuts the door behind him.
Still spoilt. Throwing a tantrum because he didn’t get his way.
I haven’t got time to deal with him right now. I need to call Granny. I scramble to the kitchen where I know a phone charger is. I plug my phone in and wait for the screen to load. It feels like a lifetime, but the loading logo appears, and it turns on.
I have missed calls from Granny, Sam and my mother.
I call Granny and she picks up within one ring. “Harri, darling, where are you?” Her voice is panicked but a comfort to listen to. “Sam came after you this morning because you left your purse at his and, well, you are not here. Where are you? Sam is out in the woodlands searching!”
I whisper so as not to stir suspicion from Greg. “I’m in London.” My throat bobs with emotion.
“What’s happened?” Her voice changes from slight worry to full-on concern.
“I was walking back to the cottage and Mrs Belfour, she turned up. She knows about Lola.” I feel shaky speaking about it.
My granny is silent on the other end for a moment.
I can’t stand the silence so carry on blurting out the word vomit that follows. “I had no choice, Granny. I can’t let them hurt her or Sam. If this is what I must do, I will do it to keep you all safe.”
“How does she know?” Her voice is cold. “How does she know about Lola?”
“I don’t know, she wouldn’t say, but someone is not who they say they are. Look, Granny, I need to keep them all safe. Everyone. And I need you to tell Sam…” My eyes well up. “Tell him I love him, tell him that I will always love him, and I will spend my life keeping him safe.”
“Harri,” Granny interrupts. “Harri, we can keep you safe.”
“It’s easier this way. Only my life gets affected.” I see the bedroom door open in my peripheral. “Look, I need to go. I love you.” I put the phone down in time for Greg to come back into the room, in a suit, hair brushed and cleaner than he was.
He picks up his keys from the kitchen side. “I’m going out.” His voice is stern and cold, his eyes not even looking at me.
“Where?” I ask.
He turns to me, face emotionless. “I need to sort things for this ball. You’ve probably forgotten.”
I had, kind of. It was in the back of my brain, but I didn’t realise it was tonight. “Oh, OK.”
“You don’t have to pretend you’re interested, Harri. You have made your intentions clear. But you will show up, you will act the part, and you will not fucking embarrass me anymore.” His voice raises and he steps closer in an almost threatening stance.
“Don’t you come any closer to me, Greg.” I raise my hands, my power ready at my fingertips. “You’ve seen a small amount of what I’m capable of.”
He laughs. “Yeah, go ahead, expose yourself and your weird little family and your grubby boyfriend. You wanted this. You got it. I’ll treat you how you deserve. I own you now.”
He laughs again and walks away.
How can anyone change emotions as quick as that? I am guessing the nice I love yous were just a ploy to make his life easier.
The slight pang of guilt I have for him follows him out of the door.
Sure, he’s also being forced to be this crapbag of a man, but his family have basically kidnapped me and are forcing me to marry their son so that they can be in the bloodline of witches with our offspring.
Saying it aloud would surely get me locked up in a padded cell.
With Greg gone, silence fills the room. I can see the light of my phone flashing up on the kitchen side. Probably Sam.
I can’t even bring myself to pick up. He will come for me, I know he will, but I want him as far away from these people as possible. I can’t risk them knowing any more than they already know. I can’t.
I hate myself for not giving him a goodbye or telling him how in just a few weeks he has made me feel more alive than I have ever felt before.
He has made me realise what love is. What desire is.
What home is. I feel sick with the thought of what my life will be without him. But if this is what it takes.
I would sacrifice my life for eternity.
I feel the drop of hopelessness again mixed with the sickness of what is to come.
I run to the toilet, quickly putting my hands on the cold porcelain to calm my mind. I can’t even understand what my life has turned into.
I kneel there for a while, waiting for vomit or tears to come out.
But nothing comes.
I stand wobbly on my legs and look into the mirror. What are you doing, girl? You have not spent time with the most incredible women to let yourself down now. There is more to your story. There just has to be.
I let out a slow breath, allowing myself to feel the magic in my veins. To control it. A smile creeps across my face. Dark and angry. A smile from decades of my ancestors wanting revenge.
I shower, do my hair and makeup and slip on the little black dress Mrs Belfour had given me in the car.
My dark hair is tussled into an updo with chocolate ringlets falling down my face and neck.
My pale skin is a stark contrast to the black silk dress that hugs my body, the diamond choker shining like stars across my delicate neckline.
I stand back before the mirror again. My eyes, dark and steady, stare back at me, not with uncertainty, but with the quiet strength I have always carried.
I found out I was a witch just weeks ago. Magic pulsed through my fingertips, wild and ancient, and for a moment, I believed that it was that which made me powerful.
But now, as I look at my reflection, something shifts.
It was not the spells or the whispered power in my blood. It was not the legacy or the lore. It was me, the woman I had become. Fierce. Free. Unapologetically herself.
“I was always powerful,” I whisper to the glass, a small smile forming. “The magic just reminded me.”
I place a masquerade mask upon my face as a final addition. A silver viper with white feathered ears. Very fitting. I smirk.
And with that, I leave for the ball, not to hide, but to show them who I am.