Chapter 33
33
JOSEPHINE
R oman circles the block three times before he eventually lets me out in front of my apartment. Originally, we were checking for either of my parents' cars, but then he couldn’t find a parking spot.
“Are you sure you’re okay to go in without me?” Roman frowns as I get out of the car.
“Hurry up and find a spot. Hopefully, I’ll already have the book before you even turn off the car.” I shut the door before he can offer any protests.
It’s starting to snow, and the wind is ripping through my coat. I hurry up the steps with my keys at the ready. I don’t know how Penelope had the forethought to grab my purse last night, but I’m grateful to have my phone and the keys to my apartment. Worst case, I could have magicked my way through the door, but it’s a whole lot easier to just turn a key.
I also could have asked one of my friends to grab more stuff from my apartment, including the book, but I’ve already put them in a difficult position. Piper’s family is horrible and I hate to think what they might do if they find out she grabbed clothes for me this morning. As long as Roman’s with me, it’s easier to do this errand myself.
I don’t bother locking the door behind me. Hopefully, Roman will be here in a minute. In my bedroom, I find a suitcase and toss in handfuls of clothes, barely looking at what I’m grabbing. The book from Morty is on my dresser. It goes into the bag with the rest of my stuff. I’m tempted to flip through it to see what Morty thinks will be so helpful, but there will be time for that later.
I lug my suitcase out into the living room, and movement in the kitchen catches my eye. “I hope you have some free drawers because I grabbed as much shit as possible.”
“When did you become so vulgar?”
I whip around at my mother’s voice, all the blood draining from my face.
“Mother.” I swallow thickly.
My mother is sitting on one of the stools, her manicured hands wrapped lightly around the knee of her crossed leg. She’s wearing a pair of cream slacks and a cashmere sweater. Her wool coat is draped carefully over the back of the chair next to her. Her chin-length hair is flawlessly styled. Her make-up is minimal but perfectly suited for a woman in her early fifties. She’s elegant, but no matter how perfect she looks, she can’t hide her fury. It literally vibrates off her skin, her water magic forming little zips of frost that spark around her hands.
Her eyes scan my body, her mouth pursing in displeasure. “You look like a vagrant. I’d be pressed to claim you as my own if any of my friends saw you.” She sniffs as though the very idea horrifies her. Does she think I have amnesia? Does she think I’ve forgotten years of being ignored, shuttled aside, and told to leave the room while more important people had discussions. She’s never introduced me to anyone as her daughter, anyway.
“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself? You sneak out of dinner last night, embarrassing me in front of our coven leader and incredibly important council members, and leaving me to apologize on your behalf.”
Right. If she ever acknowledged my absence, she certainly didn’t call attention to it. She doesn’t even mention my sister. She has to have realized Penelope is gone by now. She’s worried about how last night looks to her associates but doesn’t care about her children, even the smallest bit.
I lift my hand to bite my nail, but force it back to my side. My eyes drift to the door. Where is Roman? As soon as I have that thought, I shove it aside. It’s not his responsibility to solve my problems.
“Why?”
My mother sits up straighter. The glamor she’s wearing to hide her crow’s feet momentarily slips and lets through the signs of aging she tries so hard to hide. “Excuse me?”
“Why are you like this? What have I ever done to deserve the way you treat me?”
Francesca Delvaux’s face sours, and she slithers off the chair. “You dare speak to me that way?”
My fingers are clenched around the handle of my suitcase, and I slowly unfurl them. “I do. I have never been anything but a dutiful daughter. I’ve done everything you’ve ever asked, even at the expense of my health. I’ve never pushed back, never defied you.”
“Ah, but you weren’t doing that to please me. You only did it for Penelope.”
“Yes. Another of your daughters that’s being used as a tool. A bargaining chip to control someone else.” I shake my head, a disbelieving sound coming from my throat. “The funny thing is, I would have done it all without that blackmail. If only you’d been kind. If you’d been loving. I never needed more than that.”
“You never deserved more than you got.”
“Why?” I laugh at the same question coming out again and again. “Did I deserve the punishments you and dad inflicted? Did I deserve to have you steal my magic every month?”
My mother’s face pales, even through the glamor. “Who’s been filling your head with such nonsense?”
I gape at her. The audacity.
“Was it because you needed my power?” I push. Maybe what I’ve been thinking about the Maiden, Mother, and Crone is true. Maybe because our coven is only honoring the Maiden, they are weakened.
She laughs, holding her stomach as though I’ve told a hilarious joke. “I did it because I could.”
I’m astounded by how quickly she went from denial to insult. Although, I should know better.
“I’m double parked. The snow’s really starting to come down…” Roman walks through the front door, his voice trailing off as he sees my mother grinning at me. The look on my face is the polar opposite.
My mother throws her head back and laughs again, practically wheezing in her hysterics. “Oh, this is rich. My innocent daughter is fucking a Blackthorn. Now I know why you’re suddenly questioning your mother and your family. Your very coven. It’s shameful.”
Roman’s face is dark, shadows seeping off his body, ready to beat back any threat to me. The silent support means more than I can put into words. It’s an injection of steel into my spine.
“I’m right here, Jo,” Roman says, as though he knows the direction of my thoughts.
“Oh, I’m sure you are, Blackthorn. Does your coven know you’re sullying yourself with the enemy?”
“Which one of us should be ashamed?” My clipped voice pulls my mother’s attention back to me. “Is he slumming it? Or am I? Or maybe it doesn’t matter because this feud between our covens is bullshit.”
Francesca’s chin tips up, and she glares at me before a slow smile breaks out on her face. “Here’s what’s going to happen next. You’re going to bring my dear darling Penelope back home. Don’t think I didn’t notice that she disappeared with you last night. Then you’re going to go back to being an obedient daughter and put all this nonsense behind you.” She doesn’t say “or else,” but it’s implied.
Her hand drags down my arm as she walks past me. Before I shrug free from her grip, Roman is there. He tears my mother’s hand off me, holding her wrist tight as he leans down to snarl in her face. “Keep your hands to yourself.”
“Got a taste for the Delvauxs? A shame you picked the most pathetic of the bunch.” She lays her free hand on his chest.
Is she trying to seduce him? I’m simultaneously grossed out and embarrassed for her.
Roman laughs in her face. “I would rather gnaw off my own foot than climb into bed with you.”
“As if that was on the table. I’ll see you at work on Monday, Josephine. Because I’m so magnanimous, I’ll let Penelope spend the weekend with you, but don’t test me. I think you know I don’t do well with disobedience.” With that comment, she walks out of my apartment, her hips swaying like sex actually is on the table, and Roman might be interested.
The door clicks shut with the finality of an executioner's blade. My apartment feels tainted by my mother’s presence.
“Let’s get the hell out of here.”