Chapter 17
17
JOSEPHINE
“ I s it really necessary to be barefoot?” Ava grumbles as we huddle together with Stellan and Piper on the outskirts of the coven’s ceremonial site.
Once a month on the new moon, all members of the coven are required to meet at midnight to restore our power and give thanks to the Maiden. Our ceremonial lands sit just outside Mystic Hollows in the Grimwood. Trees have been cleared to form a perfect circle around a stone altar that hums with power. I’ve only ever touched it once, and that was enough. The slab sits on a piece of carved marble. The stone altar is short, not much more than four feet in length. One edge is smooth and the other jagged, as though a piece broke off at one point.
Selene Nightshade is the head of our coven, blessed by the Maiden to lead us. I’m not sure what the criteria is. All I know is that she scares me. She’s mingling with the crowd of over two hundred witches, floating from person to person and bestowing her presence upon the more powerful families while ignoring those with lesser magics.
“Selene says it serves as a conduit for our magic and eases the transfer of power to us.” Piper recites, although I can tell she’s just as skeptical as the rest of us.
“Then why is she wearing shoes?” Ava hisses back.
“Do as I say, little sis. Not as I do. Don’t you know that’s how the world works?” Stellan has his arm thrown around Ava’s shoulder. She pokes him in the side.
“I’m still older, dipshit. Are mom and dad here?” Ava searches the clearing, but it’s hard to make out faces. There are candles scattered across the altar, but that’s the only light. Unless you bump into someone, it’s hard to determine who they are. Like me, I’m sure Ava would rather avoid her family. They had a falling out a few years ago and haven’t spoken since. I wonder if they even remember her. They’ve made no effort to see her since the rift and it only takes a couple weeks before Ava’s curse ensures that she will be forgotten.
My mother insists I stand with the family at the new moon ceremony. I don’t arrive with them, but I know where they always congregate. While it’s tempting to stay away, I know better. Once, when I was nineteen, and my curse had fully set in, I skipped the ceremony. The next time around, my mother brought Penelope with her and said she could stand in my place. Then she punished me for my absence.
At the time, I still lived at home. I was dragged out of bed in the middle of the night by my mother, father, and sister Camille. They laid hands on the bare skin of my legs, arms, face for hours. I was only in a T-shirt and tiny sleep shorts. Any humiliation I felt at being exposed was wiped out by the sheer amount of pain. I couldn’t even fight back.
Eventually, I passed out, but not before I heard them chatting and laughing over my pain-wracked body. As though it was the perfect opportunity for a visit, and they weren’t torturing a cursed young woman.
The ceremony is supposed to be a renewal for our magic, but mine doesn’t work that way. Since the night my mother brought Penelope in my place, I haven't fought my mother’s demands. I’ll have to go find them soon enough.
My phone vibrates in my pocket, and a fire starts to burn low in my belly. It has to be him.
After the surprise floor orgasm at Roman’s house, I panicked. I ran out of there like my ass was on fire. I wanted to stay and lie around with him all day. To bask in the feeling of his touch and how calm the world seemed at that moment, but I got all nervous instead. I hadn’t shaved my legs, and I was wearing stretched-out undies. After I had some time to absorb what happened, I realized that Roman probably didn’t care about any of that. He hasn’t felt another person’s touch in years. There’s a good chance he’d screw a Wookie if it gently stroked his hair.
There was something about Roman’s confession that made me instantly sympathize. Probably more than anyone, I understand what it’s like not to touch someone. But it also left an ache in my heart. Roman isn’t dragging me into dark corners and giving me his number because he’s interested in me personally. It’s because I’m literally his only option. For some fucked up reason, the universe has given us this small reprieve. Or it’s fucking with us. If history has taught me anything, it’s probably the latter.
I’ve stewed on those thoughts for two days. He didn’t text me that day, and I still don’t know if he was giving me space or if he doesn’t want to put in the effort. In a moment of weakness, I sent him a picture of Dick VanDyke. To which he responded, “Did you just send me a dick pic?” Since then, we’ve been texting back and forth. I’m trying not to get all swoony and invested, but how is that possible?
I pull my phone out far enough to read the text. A small smile spreads over my face when I spot R for Roman. For some reason, I couldn’t put his full name into my phone.
R: Does your coven make you hold hands and share your feelings with one another during the new moon ceremony?
Naw, we just sacrifice virgins and drink some pig’s blood.
Roman hasn’t asked me to come over again. And he definitely hasn’t told me he wants to fuck me again. Still, there's safety in chatting through the phone. I text things that I would never have the balls to say in person. And I will likely be mortified when I actually see Roman in real life.
R: How medieval of you.
What can I say, we love our traditions.
R: My brother’s sweaty palm sounds better by the minute.
How sweet, you hold your brother’s hand?
R: He’s scared of the dark. I can’t handle all the weeping.
I snicker and put my phone away, grimacing at the time.
“I’d better go find my family,” I tell my friends with a sigh.
“We’ll be waiting for you here when the ceremony is done, okay?” Piper says, knowing how I’m always drained on these nights. I nod and cross the clearing to the spot where I know my family will be. My mother’s nose is pointed down toward her watch, irritation creating wrinkles between her brows. My father and Camille are both on their phones. My parents are buttoned up in wool coats fit for a fancy party and not a wooded clearing at midnight. Camille is at least more practical in a puffy jacket. Her obnoxious fur-lined boots that lace up to the knees are on the ground next to her. She looks like a poster girl for Swedish tourism in the nineties.
“About time. You have absolutely zero sense of responsibility, Josephine. When are you going to grow up.”
“Never,” Camille sneers. “She’s going to be a lost little girl, waiting for someone to tell her what to do next for her entire life.”
I keep my mouth shut. Nothing good comes from talking back to either of them. My father couldn’t be less invested if he tried.
Selene steps up to the altar, the candlelight making her already pale face almost skeletal. She’s a tall woman, at almost six feet. She’s severely thin and not in a modelesque way. She’s not fragile, but her body is angular like she’s all sharp points. When I was younger, I used to imagine her bones would clatter together if anyone ever hugged her. She’s not much for touching, though, so that’s not something I ever determined on my own.
“My children. Gather round. The new moon is upon us. It is time for our rebirth, for us to reaffirm our commitment to the Lumen coven and restore our magic with the blessing of the Maiden.
Selene’s hands drop to the altar, and a breeze blows my hair across my face. I should have worn a hat. Especially with my bare feet, I’m freezing.
My mother snaps her fingers in my face. “Josephine. Your hand.” She says it as though it’s not the first time. I want to hug my arms around myself to hold in the little bit of warmth still in my body, but there’s no point in fighting. I hold out both of my hands. Camille takes one and my father the other. Pain shoots down my arms and thrums through my body with each of my heartbeats. My mom’s hand lands on the back of my neck, ice cold. It’s not from the frigid temperature outside. She’s purposefully coating her hand in ice. I sway at the contact, swallowing thickly to keep from throwing up.
This part is always horrible. One person touching me is awful, but three is torture. Sparks flicker across my vision. Beyond the pain is the draining sensation, like my magic is being sucked out of me. That’s not what’s supposed to happen at the new moon ceremony, though. I don’t know why it feels like this for me. Out of nowhere, my recent conversation with Fitz pops into my head. The Maiden, Mother, and Crone are all facets of our magic. Are we missing some important component to our power because we only worship the Maiden? Am I being punished for not embracing all aspects of my magic? If that’s the case, why is it just me?
I clench my teeth together to hold back a scream. My knees are shaking, and I lock them to keep from crumbling. Only a few more minutes.
Selene is saying her blessing at the altar, but I can’t hear the words. I only know from experience that this process never takes more than five minutes. But five minutes with three of my family members touching me might as well be five hours. Time ceases to exist. I count in my head, my cold toes digging into the ground like either action will distract me. They don’t.
This night is supposed to be restorative, but I’ve never experienced that. Every time the new moon approaches, I want to cry. As the years go by, it’s getting harder to drag myself here, but I know what will happen if I don’t come. Things could be so much worse than these handful of minutes in the clearing. And so, I continue to show up, breathing through the pain until I can escape.
Selene ends her speech, and my mother snatches her hand away from my neck, as if my skin burns. Like she’s the one who’s in pain instead of me. My father and sister follow suit. They turn to talk to each other, giving me their backs while my mother hisses in my face.
“What have you been doing to yourself?”
“I don’t… what do you mean?” True confusion has me stammering. Everything about this new moon ceremony is the same as all the rest.
“There’s something wrong with your magic,” my mother snaps, and I startle back. I don’t feel like anything is wrong. My magic is like a warm glow in the center of my chest. When I’m not using it, it just hums away there. When I use my magic, the glow brightens and burns hotter, spreading from my chest down to my fingers so I can heal. A warm ball of energy is sitting, waiting right now. It always feels depleted after the new moon ceremony, and tonight’s no different. If anything, I feel even more exhausted than usual. Almost as if something else had hold of my magic and there was a tug-of-war occurring.
We’re closer to the altar than most people, and the flicker of candlelight highlights the scowl on my mother’s face. If we weren’t in the middle of our coven, there’s a good chance her palm would be cracking against my cheek, frosted over with her water magic. I have no idea what has made her this angry.
“Watch yourself, Josephine Delvaux. Whatever you’re planning, I will find out. I won’t let you harm this family.”
I take a step back, my legs heavy with fatigue. The witches in the clearing are chatting good-naturedly around us. They don’t even notice that my mother looks ready to strangle me. As much as I’m an outsider in my family, I have never done a thing to hurt them. Everything I do is as my mother commands it. What on earth does she think I’ve been doing?
“I need to go lay down.” I stumble a few more steps back, suddenly desperate to get away from my family. From the accusatory glare of my mother.
“We’re not done talking about this, Josephine.”
“Of course,” I bite out, anger giving me a momentary boost of energy. It drains in the next second, and I lose the small amount of backbone. Spinning away from my family, I rush to find my friends. To wrap myself in the safety of their love and support.
The candles will be left to burn down on the altar until morning, but the night seems darker than earlier. When I reach my friends, my head aches, and my muscles wobble.
“Jojo?” Piper murmurs, stepping in close but leaving room between us. Ava crowds in, and Stellan stands like a sentinel guarding us all.
“You’re barely standing. What did your mother do?” Ava hisses, but Piper shushes her.
“Let’s get you home. Can you walk?”
“I have to.” My words come out in a rasp. If anyone touches me, it will make things worse. I’m already drained, and a touch at this point would likely make me pass out.
“This is bullshit,” Ava snarls, her voice low so none of the other coven members hear. A lot of witches have already left the clearing, but there are still enough people who’ve stuck around that someone could hear us. “You should be energized. Why is it that after every new moon ceremony, you’re dead on your feet while the rest of us are magically topped off for the month?”
Stellan drops a hand on Ava’s shoulder. “Good question, but let’s get Jo home, and then we can start with the conspiracy theories.”
“Let’s just take it slow. Okay?” I pant, a cold sweat breaking out all over my body. I won’t cry, but I’m tempted to whimper just thinking about the mile walk back to my car. The ceremonial lands are warded to keep unsuspecting humans from entering, but it’s also far enough from town so that non-magical people won’t notice anything odd about the area. The walk doesn’t usually bother me, but tonight, the distance feels insurmountable.
Piper sets my shoes in front of me. Just because we had to be barefoot for the ceremony doesn’t mean we’re idiots who walk around the woods without shoes on. It takes multiple tries to pick up my foot and slip it into my shoe. Thank the Maiden, I wore slip-on sneakers. If I had to bend over to tie my shoes, I’d be on the ground, and that’s where I’d stay for the rest of the night.
My steps are shuffling and slow as we head into the Grimwood. Stellan and Ava both have the flashlights on their phones turned on. Stellan is leading the way, Piper is at my side, and Ava is behind me. If I fall, I’m not sure if it would be better or worse if they caught me or let me collapse.
“I’m really sorry, guys.” I choke on my frustration when we’ve barely gone a quarter of a mile in thirty minutes. The rest of the coven passed by us one by one until we’re the only people left on the trail. A few offered help, but most of them just walked on by.
“Shut up.” I hear Ava’s eye roll even if I can’t see it. “As if you’d willingly do this to yourself. Unless there was anyone sick who needed healing in the vicinity, but we all know that’s not what happened here.”
A stone in the path catches the edge of my shoe when I don’t lift my foot high enough. My legs give out, and I fall to my hands and knees before anyone can even consider grabbing hold of me. My breaths are harsh, puffing out in a long stream in front of me. The temperature keeps dropping, and I’m chilled down to my bones. My friends stand quietly around me, their hands tied.
A tear slips free, sliding down my nose until it dangles on the tip. It’s hanging on for dear life. I know the feeling. It finally escapes and plinks down onto the frozen ground. I can’t get back up. I don’t have the strength. If my friends carry me, I’ll pass out for sure. I’m not sure how long it will take for me to wake back up.
“This is fucked,” Ava snarls. “Jo, I’m getting your phone from your pocket. Don’t move.”
My phone? What does she need my phone for?
There’s a gentle shifting of fabric as she fishes my phone out of my coat pocket, never touching me.
“Yeah, hey. You don’t know me, and I have no clue what you’re up to with Jo, but she needs your help.” Ava’s talking to someone, her voice full of agitation. Who did she call? My stomach sinks. No. She wouldn’t.
“Hang on. I’ll drop a pin on the map and send you our location.”
“Ava. What have you done?” Piper asks.
I couldn't have said it better myself.