Chapter 26
Chapter Twenty-Six
Confused, I shuffle my feet. I tilt my head and peak up at Owen.
His lips are pinched, and his jaw is tight.
Nestled in his arm, Daisy lazily blinks at me.
One of her wings is flopped, daggling across his muscled forearm, the other against his chest. She is lying belly up with legs akimbo, toes pointed as the hellhound tickles her tummy.
I’m glad one of us is having an enjoyable time.
I rub my temple in an attempt to relieve the huge stress headache that is building. He must have worked out what’s going on. I wish he would fill me in, as I haven’t got a scooby. Why is my mum talking about marriage proposals?
“Margaret Harris’s son, Peter, who is only a few years younger than you.
Twenty-two. The best witch in his class.
” She nods smugly. “The other man is fifteen years your senior. It’s all very sad his wife died during the riots.
He has two little girls and has been holding out for a powerful new wife. ”
Is she… talking to me?
My mum grabs hold of my wrist and tugs me away from Owen to deftly manoeuvre me around my sisters. She snaps her fingers at Dad, and he obediently places a datapad in her hand. She waves it in my face.
I look at Owen in alarm. It might be the light tricking me, but his shoulders look even broader, and blue flames flash within his eyes.
Whoa. Flame on.
“This one is Peter.” I wince as Mum pinches the inside of my arm to pull my attention from Owen as she points at the image of a nice-looking guy.
She flicks the page to a long list of the stranger’s attributes.
Of their own accord, as my eyes drift down the page, they seem to cling to a highlighted section and a notation about his sperm.
I squeak and wave my hands in the air; my panicked flailing makes her drop her hold on my arm.
Mum scowls and tries to make another grab, but I skilfully avoid her and rapidly back away.
“That guy? You want me to marry him? Are you kidding?”
“No? Oh, well, the older one—”
“Neither. No way.” I wildly point at Jodie. “Jodie would make an amazing wife.”
“Oh, thanks. Shove me under the bus instead,” she mumbles.
Uh. “Sorry,” I mouth.
Witches, like many humans, marry. But I never knew that there was a weird underground arranged marriage thing going on in the background of our society.
Male witches are super rare, but we don’t need male witches of our kind to procreate.
Heather’s dad is fae. The magical gene is incredibly strong, and it seems to produce powerful witches, no matter the bloodline.
Strong, full-blooded witch parents don’t necessarily make a strong child. Look at me.
Before this mess all started, everyone thought I was a dud, or I had magiclexia. In the scheme of things, fate and a creature’s DNA does what it wants. Again, look at me. Where the heck did the host magic come from?
Magic is weird.
Unless you are from a coven with super old-fashioned rules and a fanatical need to keep their bloodlines pure, I presumed no one else in the community cared.
I guess from the manic glow in my mother’s eyes, landing a rare male witch as a husband is considered a great honour.
“Don’t you think I’ve tried?” Mum whines and throws her hands up in the air.
“I’ve been working away for years to get one of you girls a decent match.
Years. Now, out of everyone in this coven, it’s you.
And you have the gall to say no? I don’t think so, young lady.
It is a great honour. Don’t you dare ruin this for me. You will do as you are told.”
A great honour out of my nightmares.
I am in love with a hellhound. As if I’d say okay to marrying some random guy. Even if my soft heart did not belong to Owen, I can only imagine having another coven as in-laws. Gosh, more random witches sticking their oars into my life. I’d have permanent hives.
“Mum, I will not marry a stranger. Why would you ever think I would?”
“I neither have the time or the crayons to explain how important this is,” my mum snarls.
Wow. I’ll have to remember that insult, as it was a good one.
Even after all these years, she still has the ability to hurt me.
Never underestimate the power of words. “You will do as you are told!” she screams.
My ears ring. I am so angry, for a second, I lose my good girl filter. “This is bullshit.”
“Language!” Mum yells.
Jodie’s mouth pops open and then she grins with understanding.
“Wow, Tuesday. I haven’t heard you swear since you were a kid,” Diane says with narrowed eyes as she blinks her long lashes at me.
“You can swear?” Mum gasps.
Yes, Mum, the nasty anti-swearing spell you made me take is finally broken. Ta-da. Go me. “Yeah, well, it’s hard to swear when your mother puts a gag spell on you,” I blurt out bitterly.
The silence is deafening.
Shit. Did I say that out loud?
“A what?” Diane squeaks. “No… You wouldn’t.” She laughs awkwardly and looks around. “Mum, she is kidding, right? Mum?” When Mum says nothing to contradict my statement, Diane narrows her eyes. “That is abuse.”
“Mum?” Ava says.
“It was a strong, illegal potion,” Jodie says as she looks down at her feet and toes the floor.
“Jodie, you knew?” Diane elbows her in the side. “You bloody did. Why didn’t you tell me? Mum, I don’t understand why you would do something so awful.” Diane’s hurt but angry stare is laser focused on Mum.
Mum shrugs and looks at Dad for help.
He remains silent.
“When? Mum, when did you put… a what?” Diane tilts her head to the side and her violet eyes flash.
“An anti-swearing spell? When did you put an anti-swearing spell on my little sister?” My feisty blonde sister steps in front of me while holding her arms out wide, almost as if she can protect me from something that happened years ago. “When did you do that?”
“I was sixteen,” I say helpfully. I shuffle forward and place my hand on her shoulder and squeeze it. “It’s okay. It is in the past. Jodie only knows ’cause she tried to help me a few years ago.”
“Why didn’t you ask me?” Diane spins around, pointing at her chest. “You know potions are my speciality. I could hav—wait. What? Back up at sec. You were sixteen? Sixteen,” she whispers.
“Mum,” Ava snarls.
I can’t believe that my sisters are sticking up for me. Perhaps it is Owen’s presence that is motivating them? Or maybe I’ve never given my sisters enough credit.
Wow, they love me.
“You always said she had a stick up her arse.” Andy chortles and slaps his leg.
Hilarious.
“Andrew, now isn’t the time,” Diane chides.
She turns back to me and grips the top of my arms. “Look, I did say that. I said it a lot, but I didn’t understand.
You hid it so well. I used to think you not swearing was ridiculous.
I used to think it was an adorable, weird quirk.
” Her voice drops and her eyes fill with tears.
“I used to laugh at you, Tuesday. All this time I thought because you couldn’t do magic, you were bitter, twisted… jealous.” She swallows.
“But you weren’t jealous, were you? You were just trying to protect yourself from her.” An angry tear runs down her face, and she wipes it away. “From our mum.” She spins, blocking me again from our parents. “Mum, how could you? What else have you done?”
“I did what I had to do.” My mum lifts her chin stubbornly and glares back at my sister. “And don’t use that tone with me. I’m still your mother. When you have children Diane, you will understand—”
“I have a daughter and I don’t understand, Mum,” Ava interrupts.
“It worked out in the end, didn’t it? I was right. Tuesday just had to learn to apply herself. Look at this place. It must be worth a fortune. Once we get a grip on her magic, there’s no telling what she can do.”
“You won’t be going anywhere near Tuesday and her magic,” says a menacing voice.
Owen.