Chapter 44
44
JOSEPHINE
“ J osephine Delvaux, on behalf of the council, and the Delvaux family, I find you guilty of crimes against this coven. Your punishment will be to carry your curse for this family forever.”
“What?” What is that supposed to mean? I know that when the next generation is born, the curse passes from parent to child. It’s not like I’m planning on having kids soon, or possibly ever, so what does she mean?
My mother smiles, smoothing a hand over her sleek dark hair. “I know you would never willingly pass along your curse to any child. But that’s not your decision to make.”
“Why? Why do you care?” Her curse, my father's, is already gone. They lost their curses the moment I was born. Why do they care if I have children and pass along this horrible burden to someone else? Or if I choose to keep it and let the curse die with me? It’s not like it impacts them in any way.
I take a step backward, but Camille is there. I shake her off, but my father grabs my arms. The blood rushes out of my head. Camille rips my coat off. I squeak, startled by the rough gesture. Did I really forget that they told me to strip? Her hands land on the hem of my shirt, but I slap her away.
“I’ll do it,” I snap, although I’m not actually sure what they’re planning. I thought they were going to punish me like they have in the past, by laying hands on me and dragging out the pain until I pass out. That’s not what this feels like. Besides, the pain is gone.
Roman must be the reason I’m not feeling pain. The Briar Witch talked about a cure, about how true love could break the curse. I peer down at the vines on my finger and the magic in my chest flares higher.
Penelope is screaming from behind the invisible barrier. Her hands locked against the wall as though cuffed. How the hell am I going to get the two of us out of here?
“Camille, go,” my mother barks and my sister hurries around the room, lighting candles set up in a circle around us. None of my family has any fire magic, so it has to be done the old-fashioned way. I watch, wondering if I could take my father out. If he was knocked out, then the magic holding Pen back would be broken. I don’t know if the two of us could physically best our mother and Camille, especially with Francesca’s ice magic, but I can’t think of a better plan.
“Hurry up,” my mother snaps at Camille, her eyes never leaving me. She clucks her tongue and reaches out her hand to smooth back my hair. It’s just an excuse to graze her palm across my face. “If the next generation weren’t so weak and disappointing, we wouldn’t have to be so demanding.”
She turns toward my sister. “Camille, it’s time for you to step into your role as the leader of the next generation of the Delvaux family.”
Camille practically buzzes with excitement. “Yes, Mother.”
She pulls a smudge stick out of a bag lying behind one of the council seats. With a low murmur to the Maiden, she lights the end. It flares with a flame before she blows it out and waves the smoke around the room. I catch hints of dragon’s blood resin and frankincense. Those are good for banishment and hex-breaking.
My breaths grow choppy. What does this have to do with my curse?
“What are you doing, Camille?” I grit out. Is there any point trying to talk sense into her? She’s been my mother’s puppet her entire life. A desperate plea for common sense isn't going to change her mind at this stage.
“I’m fulfilling the duty of the founding families.” Camille bends down to extract our family grimoire out of her bag.
“This is all Mom. You’re not smart enough to have your own original thoughts,” Penelope shouts at Camille, who throws her a dirty look.
“Get it done,” our mother snaps, and Camille turns her attention back to the grimoire.”
“What are you doing?”
My mother taps her finger on a line in the grimoire, and Camille nods. “This will ensure your curse is passed along to the next generation. That those of us who came before you will not be inflicted with our curses once again.”
“Is that even a possibility?” I spit out.
Camille grabs a small copper ritual bowl. “Hold her tight,” she instructs my father, whose arms squeeze me until it’s hard to breathe.
I glare at him over my shoulder, squirming to get free. “You’re all pathetic.”
My mother’s hand cracks against my cheek, and I spit in her face. I throw my head back and grunt in triumph when it connects with my father’s face. His arms band around me even tighter until I can barely breathe. My mother leans down and wipes the spit off her check with the arm of my shirt. “You’re lucky we still need you alive.”
“Don’t do this, Camille. You don’t have to be like her,” I gasp, knowing it won’t make a difference. I throw up a plea to the Maiden, Mother, and Crone. I don’t know if it will make a bit of difference, but something urges me to call upon them.
She ignores me, lifting a knife and slicing off a piece of my hair. Penelope is screaming, her voice hoarse from yelling for so long. Camille drops the hair into her bowl and nods to my mother. She shoves the sleeve of my shirt up and then Camille slashes the knife down my arm. She collects the blood and sits down on the ground facing me, the grimoire open in front of us.
My father is still holding me in place. Camille and my mother are inside the circle of candles. My mother reaches out and places a hand on the cut on my arm. Her hand is frozen with her water magic, adding her extra icy touch to my punishment. She’s trying to bring me as much pain as possible.
Except it doesn’t work.
Her touch isn’t painful. My father’s embrace doesn’t hurt. I’m still in a vulnerable position, but I’m not about to pass out like I usually would with so much skin-to-skin contact.
“Do it, Camille.” My mother grins down at the one daughter over whom she has control.
Camille lifts the ceremonial bowl up to the ceiling and begins to chant. “By candle’s glow and blood of kin, take this token of the founders’ sin. Through generations gone before, let this curse plague them no more. Transfer the curse from this age to the next. By rite of this magic, pass on this hex.”
“You’ll regret this,” I pant out. Magic is thick in the air, pressing down on me. But strangely, I don’t feel it in my body. It gathers around Camille like a storm brewing that has nowhere to go. All the candles snuff out in a phantom wind. There’s a drop in pressure and my head feels squeezed before there’s a pop and a release. In the darkness of the room, I feel a new presence. No, that’s not right. I feel three beings. A manifestation of magic surrounding and comforting me. I close my eyes as the faintest whisper of magic brushes over my cheek. It’s the Triad. I don’t know how I know, but it’s them. They’re here with me.
Just as suddenly as it arrived, the sensation leaves and everything goes to shit. There’s a boom, and we’re all blown back from the center of the circle. My father lets go of me and I fall to the dirt floor. The candles and torches flare back to life and the room glows before the fire settles. My mother, Camille, and my father have been tossed to the floor. They groan and push themselves to sitting.
“Come help me up,” my mother snaps, and Camille scrambles over to her. She grabs our mother’s hand to pull her up, but they both scream and break apart. Camille falls back on her ass and glares at Francesca.
“What did you do that for?” Camille shrieks.
“What did you do?” Francesca shouts, her fists crashing down on the ground. “You did it wrong.”
I watch them all with my mouth hanging open. Pen’s eyes are wide as they dart back and forth between our family members.
“What are the two of you blathering on about?” My father stands, brushing off his pants and glaring at the entire room.
“Come, Armond. Help me up.” My mother snaps her fingers at my father, who obeys with a put-out sigh. Except the same thing happens once again. The two of them shout and my father scrambles away, leaving my mother on the floor. Penelope cries out and runs to my side. My father’s magic must have fallen while he was distracted. The two of us watch the rest of our family flounder and shout accusations at each other.
“No. It’s not possible. How can you have fucked this up so badly?” Francesca snarls.
Camille’s head jerks up, and she stares at my mother with wide eyes. My mother glares back at her with her mouth hanging open. Camille shakes her head. “No, I did exactly what it says.” She lifts a trembling hand and points to the grimoire. The spell has taken every ounce of her energy.
“You.” My mother points at me, pushing herself off the ground. “What have you done?”
I step in front of Penelope. “Me? You’re asking what I’ve done, when you are the ones who trapped me and performed a spell on me?”
Her eyes burn with hatred. She clasps my chin in her freezing fingers, her nails digging into my skin. But instead of pain searing through me, she screams and snatches her hand back.
Her breaths come out in ragged pants. “Why aren’t you screaming in pain? Why aren’t you writhing on the floor like a bug, begging for mercy?” My mother’s eyes are wide. “What is this pain? Camille,” she snaps at my sister. “Touch her.”
Camille smirks at me, taking a wobbling step forward. For the first time in years, I don’t flinch. I’m not even worried. I hold out my hand. Camille’s mouth flattens. She slaps her hand in mine, and then screams in pain, pulling away so fast that she falls on her ass.
I reach behind me and find Penelope’s hand, squeezing her fingers when she tries to pull away with a gasp. “Jo?”
“It’s okay.” My words are wobbly as I tug my sister to my side.
“What is this madness?” my father yells.
“My curse is broken,” I pronounce, knowing the truth of my words even if I have no idea how. “It was broken before Camille did her failed spell.”
“Impossible.” Spittle flies from my mother’s mouth, her hair uncharacteristically disheveled. The veins under her eyes are more pronounced than usual. She’s a mess. Camille slumps to the side as the price of all that magic hits her. She’s limp on the floor, completely drained. Now she knows what it feels like.
There’s a second of uncertainty, and then my mother appears to come to a decision. “We’ll just have to find new ways to punish you, then.” She turns to my father. “Grab Penelope.”
“No,” I shout, shoving Pen behind me again.
She slaps me so hard, I stumble back, but she shrieks at the pain from the contact and I can’t help but laugh.
“Not only did your spell fail, but it looks like you’ve been given my curse.”
My mother’s eyes widen as she stares at my hand. She snatches my fingers in her own, tugging it toward her face before dropping it with a frustrated cry.
“What is that?” she snarls.
There are two dark vines twined together that circle my finger. It has a warmth that pulses from it. That’s what I was feeling earlier. “That is none of your business.”
My father is looking on in confusion. My mother’s narrowed glance tells me she knows more than him. “How? That is a bonding mark. A fated mark. Impossible. No one in our coven has ever received one of these.”
My mother snarls and lunges for me, but freezes as the room grows darker. Shadows creep across the floor and climb the walls. One torch is snuffed out and then another.
“Probably because you’re all a bunch of self-serving bastards who choose power and wealth over love.” Roman’s commanding voice cuts through the dim room and joy dances under my skin. He’s okay. He’s here. “You’re going to back away from Josephine and Penelope.”
“What is the meaning of this?” my father shouts, his face pale and his normally perfect hair a wild mess. “This is sacred coven business. Dark witches aren’t allowed in our sanctuary.”
Roman, Bram, Ava, Stellan, and Odie stand in a line of pissed off witches. Piper is quietly crying behind them, and Ambrose has an arm slung around her shoulder. She must be disoriented because she’s accepting the support without the slightest bit of self-consciousness.
“We’re just looking to get the band back together.” Ambrose grins, his golden smile bright even in the shadows.
“What?” Francesca snaps.
“You know, how we all used to be one big, happy coven. Before we broke up to keep the truth of our curses a secret and all that jazz.” Ambrose holds up a finger and turns to look at Stellan. “Wait, I wasn’t supposed to know that, was I? Oh well, I’m horrible with secrets.”
Stellan slowly nods, all the while glaring at my family. “That’s the story I recall.”
“Regardless, you have no right to be here.” My mother smooths back her hair, putting everything back in its place. Only to gasp for breath and rake her nails against her chest as a low growl rumbles from Roman’s throat.
He takes the stairs down to me, moving in slow, measured steps. His dark hair is messy, his shirt untucked. Despite the unusual, disheveled appearance, the awe-inspiring strength and dark magic that sits just below the surface lets everyone know this man is dangerous.
The shadows grow thicker. My mother falls to her knees, clutching her chest. Is she having a heart attack? I pull Penelope into a hug that I’ve wanted to give for nine years. I sniff and blow out a shaky breath. There will be time to break down later.
The rest of our friends watch and wait behind us, ready to jump in if need be.
My mother scratches at her throat, her eyes bulging.
“Roman, you’re going to kill her,” Ambrose says. I look up at Roman, his pupils dilated. His magic swarms around us. Someone else’s too. The shadows don’t belong to Roman, but they don’t feel antagonistic toward me.
“She deserves to die,” he grits out.
Penelope is crying now, her shoulders shaking in my arms. I thread my fingers through hers and pull her with me to Roman. I gently cup his face, angling his head down to me. “But you don’t deserve to carry the burden of that act with you forever.”
His stormy eyes lower to hold my gaze. “It would be an honor, Josephine.”
I close my eyes. It would be so easy to nod and let him rip her soul out of her. She’s a terrible mother, an awful leader, and an all-around horrible person. But I’m not. Neither is Roman.
“Let her go, Roman.”
He stares into my eyes. “Are you sure?” The storm of his magic swirls around me, a comforting blanket of security that I’ve never felt from anyone else in my life.
“Yeah,” I sigh.
My mother cries out and crumbles to the ground, her cheek pressed to the dirt floor. She presses to her knees and then stands with a wobble. Wiping at her cheek, she brushes a hand over her clothes to smooth out wrinkles that aren’t going anywhere. Her fingers ice up and the glint in her eyes is one I recognize. Revenge.
“Don’t even think about it.” My voice is quiet but deadly with intent.
“What are you going to do to stop me?”
“All it will take is a simple touch.” I smile at the woman who should have loved and nurtured me. At the family who could have been so much more than the bringers of pain and heartache. Instead, they are the inventors of their own doom.
I guide Penelope toward the steps, while Roman stays still, watching my family. If they try to attack our backs, that would be a new low. I wouldn’t put it past them.
“Penelope.” My mother’s voice is high pitched. “Where do you think you’re going?”
My sister’s hand squeezes mine. I feel sick. Slowly turning to face the woman who has made my entire life a misery, I pray for a way out of this.
“She’s coming with me.”
My mother laughs, a bitter, horrible sound. “I don’t think so.”
“Why bother? So you’ll have someone else to torment?”
“She’s my daughter, Josephine. You may not understand loyalty or duty, but that doesn’t mean everyone else in the family has to be a disappointment.”
“Jo, please.” Penelope’s holding my fingers so tightly that they start tingling. I wouldn’t pull my hand away for the world, though. Pen’s eyes are pleading. She doesn’t want to go back home. Roman steps behind us, lending his support through his presence.
I lick my dry lips. “No.”
“No.” My mother laughs and looks around at the others, as if to say, can you believe this girl?
“No. You are going to let Penelope come with me. You will not reach out to her unless you go through me first. She’ll be allowed to go to school without the threat that you’ll show up and take her away. You’re going to let her go and give her the childhood she deserves.”
Our mother throws her head back and laughs, looking like the evil villain in a fairytale. “Why on earth would I do that? Since when do you give me orders?”
“What in the name of the Maiden is going on here?” Selene’s voice echoes around the stone room. She’s at the bottom of the steps, her eyes drifting from person to person and finally landing on the burned-out candles and my family’s grimoire laying open on the ground. “What is the meaning of this?
My mother narrows her eyes. “You know what this–”
“–hold your tongue,” Selene shouts, her nostrils flaring. Her bony hand snapping into a fist in the air, as if she’s physically cutting off my mother’s words. She turns to me, her eyes darting to Roman and behind him to Bram, who’s throwing off enough dark energy that the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.
“Josephine. Please explain.” Selene settles her gaze on me. There’s no sympathy in her eyes, just cold, hard calculation. Roman rests a hand on my shoulder while I stumble through an explanation of what just happened.
“I’m not leaving Penelope with them,” I state when Selene doesn’t say a word in response. After staring at Camille and then my parents for a long, drawn-out moment, she nods.
“Very well. You will be responsible for Penelope. Your family will suffer the punishment of your curse rebounding on them. And”—Selene’s eyes narrow as she sucks in a breath—“Francesca Delvaux, you are formally removed from the Lumen coven council.”
“What?” my mother shouts. “This is your fault. You let them take the grimoire out of here.”
“She’s your daughter,” Selene fires back. “Perhaps a little personal responsibility is in order.”
Francesca reaches out to grab Penelope’s arm, but she must remember that she can’t touch without pain because she snatches her hand back.
“Fine. Get out of my sight,” my mother snaps.
“There’s nothing I’d like more.” I nod to Selene. With Penelope’s hand secured in mine, I give the rest of my family my back. Just before we reach the steps my mother calls out, never one to let an opportunity pass her by. “You know, now that your curses are broken, he’ll drop you in a minute. Then you’ll be alone and shamed by your coven for lowering yourself to be with a dark witch.”
I don’t bother looking back at her. Lifting the hand with the twin vines wrapped around my ring finger, I flip her the bird.
I walk out of the coven house holding Pen’s hand on one side and Roman’s on the other. I take a deep breath, and when I exhale, everything feels lighter.