Chapter Twenty-Five After every tempest come such calms
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
After every tempest come such calms
“SIANNA.”
My lashes fluttered and I groaned. When I sat up, my legs dangled from the side of a bed and there Kasem was.
He knelt before me, holding a chocolate chip cookie with a candle half buried in the center, the wax dripping now as the flame burned.
“Is this another summoning?”
He rolled his eyes, a smile soft on his lips. “Birthdays are special,” he said. “I’d be remiss if we didn’t do something to celebrate. So, make a wish, Sianna.”
A thin curl of smoke drew between us as I blew out the candle.
“What did you wish for?” he asked.
“Nothing,” I answered, but instinctively, my gaze fell to his lips, my heart a drumbeat against my chest.
A knowing look churned in his eyes. I swallowed, glancing at the door and then back to him, unsure. Gently, he ran a hand along my thigh, as if testing the waters, uncertain until I drew toward him.
A soft moan of pleasure escaped my lips. He hummed in appreciation. The birthday treat lay forgotten, the candle tipped and slowly burning at the foot of the bed, flames nipping at the ground and making their way closer.
“You want me,” he whispered. “Don’t you?”
I wrapped my legs around his waist, the only answer I could give with my heart racing and my breath caught in my throat, my body warm and hot and reeling from his touch.
Kasem smiled, pulling me into his arms, laying me gently on my back as he mounted me. Our clothes were a barrier between us that I wanted to tear through—that we both wanted to.
I pulled him closer, yanking off his shirt and running my hands along the hard lines of his muscles.
We were flush against each other, my soft curves pressed fervently against his toned body.
I melted at his touch, heat building inside of me when he caressed the line of my collarbone, his lips peppering kisses along the trail of stretch marks on my breasts.
When he brought his mouth to mine, my desire for him consumed me.
Between breaths, I whispered his name, over and over and over again.
He drew back, frowning, and suddenly, his face had transformed.
“That’s not my name,” Jojo said.
I jolted from my sleep, gasping as sweat covered every inch of me.
At my bedside, there was a half-eaten chocolate chip cookie with a partially melted candle beside it.
I wasn’t sure how much of that had been a dream and how much had been real, but my heart ached in a way that was foreign to me, like it was speaking another language.
There were voices in the other room, voices arguing.
“I told you to stay away from her.”
“Or what, you’ll try and have me killed again?”
“You know that’s not what happened.”
“That’s not what Jay told the police.”
“Your friends are liars and idiots. If I had anything to do with what happened that night, don’t you think they would have arrested me first?”
There was silence.
“I couldn’t think of where else to take her.”
“You shouldn’t have let her go to Theta in the first place.”
“She has a mind of her own. You realize that, right?”
“She’s here because of you,” the second voice said, shouting now. “You did this, Kasem. She would have never known anything about our family or the curse if it wasn’t for you.”
In the other room, Kasem laughed.
“If you think she came to Westfield because of me, then you’re really the fool.”
I slipped out of bed, making my way to the living room where Jojo and Kasem were arguing with each other.
Kasem had showered and changed. He wore a loose-fitting T-shirt and baggy sweats, while Jojo was meticulously put together in his turtleneck and trousers.
“Sianna,” Jojo said. “What are you…”
Kasem rolled his eyes. “I told you she was here.”
I was wearing the baby doll dress from the night of the party.
Jojo and Kasem both watched me, their gazes hot as they admired me from a distance.
I was acutely aware of how the tight-fitted dress drew attention to my chest—which, moments ago, had been exposed as a dream-Kasem kissed me passionately.
More than just “kissed,” actually. And I hadn’t wanted him to stop.
I swallowed, crossing my arms and clearing my throat.
“Do you have any extra clothes I can borrow, Kasem?”
Jojo stiffened and looked away, but Kasem effortlessly went to a hamper with fresh laundry, tossing me a blue hoodie and gray sweats. Yet they smelled like him, that trace of mint and musky cologne and spice. I cupped my cheeks, hiding my face even though my blush was imperceptible.
After I changed in the bathroom, the three of us sat awkwardly at a small table in the kitchen. Someone had brought breakfast—runny eggs, bacon, toast, and jam—and Kasem quickly cut a salad to add to the spread.
“Sianna doesn’t like jam,” Jojo said when Kasem began spreading it onto toast for the plate he was making me.
Kasem ignored his brother.
“Do you like jam?” he asked me.
I shook my head.
“I told you,” Jojo said, vindicated.
Ignoring his brother, Kasem scraped the jam off the bread, licking it off the knife and from the crust of the toast. Warmth flooded through me as he handed it back, this time after spreading butter on its surface.
“I’m fine,” I said. But I took the toast and nibbled on it, tentative, because of the remnants of jam against my lips. Not because of the traces of him.
“She knows about the curse,” Kasem said. “Also, it’s her birthday. Did you wish her happy birthday, brother?”
“Don’t be condescending,” Jojo warned. “And I’m aware she knows.” But he turned to me, and wished me happy birthday, nonetheless. Anger surged through me, but my heart skipped that happy beat.
“Thank you,” I whispered back, reluctant. But if Kasem hadn’t forced him, would he have said it at all?
“What else have you told her?” Jojo said, continuing the conversation.
Kasem didn’t meet his brother’s gaze, though. He picked at his breakfast, taking bites and looking displeased. “Too much salt,” he grumbled.
“You always oversalt your food.”
“Then you should have done it,” Kasem snapped.
Annoyed, Jojo swapped their plates, then took a napkin to water and started patting the salt off his eggs.
The two spoke without words, grumbling to themselves, passing orange juice and pepper and cutting bacon off each other’s plates in retribution when one dared to steal the other’s food.
I fought back laughter watching them, how in sync they were, how, even despite themselves, they seemed to be attuned to each other’s needs.
Seeing them like this made the night in the alleyway feel like a nightmare.
Kasem thought Jojo was behind it, and to be honest, I didn’t blame him.
But we were nowhere closer to finding out how to break the curse and fix my powers.
Jojo knew that. He probably knew more than either of us about what we might be facing, having already been the curse’s target before.
I needed to make him realize that whatever grudge the two might have against each other, it would benefit all of us for them to work together.
“What is it going to take for you to stop being so stubborn and help us, Jojo?” I said. “In case you haven’t heard, a girl nearly died at Theta House last night, and a former Westfield student is haunting the school.”
“Danny was never marked by the curse,” Kasem corrected.
“I mean, I knew who he was. He was in Rose House but was one of the few from it who ran in Poppy House circles. He got a lot of grief from Roses and Ivies for it. But we were never cool like that. I don’t think we’d ever even had a conversation. His lifeline wouldn’t be tied to mine.”
“So then was Sigma behind it?” I said. “Honey claimed that Sigma and Theta are supposed to be protecting the school. So, what’s the truth?”
Jojo crossed his arms.
“Cecilia mentioned something called a ‘wraith,’” Kasem said. “I’ve never heard the term before.” Tentative, he shot a glance at Jojo. “Do you know of it, brother?”
“It sounds familiar,” Jojo admitted. He’d brought his bags with him, and he pulled out a handful of leather-bound journals—the same ones I’d seen in the Research Department.
“These are writings from former historians at Theta and Sigma. Most of them catalog new members and keep track of old ones. They reference ghostly hauntings at Westfield, some that date back to the 1800s. They chronicle how both societies have been trying to free the spirits on campus and stop a force here that was causing the accidental deaths.”
“The curse,” I said.
Jojo nodded and offered the journals for me and Kasem to take.
The leather was worn and fragile. I flipped through the pages, scanning the handwriting that changed as the historian role passed between members.
The deaths of Sigma and Theta members were listed throughout, and there was clear frustration about the societies not even being able to protect their own.
“This is Mother’s handwriting,” Kasem said, stopping at a page in the notebook Jojo had given him. “She was a Theta? I never knew that. I mean, I knew about Dad being Sigma, but Mother never mentioned it.”
“That’s because she was never really a Theta,” Jojo said.
“I mean, she joined, and it was on record, but it was only because her sisterhood, the ?nhye, wanted someone on the inside at Theta to be a bridge between the two societies. It’s been well-known for years now that Theta and Sigma are basically puppets of the Board. ”
“So the Board has been watering down Sigma and Theta from their original abolitionist mission. But for how long? Do you think the switch-up could be connected to the curse?”
“I don’t know,” Jojo said. “It could be. Then again, most institutions in the country changed when Reconstruction ended.”
“Does your mother say anything about it in the records?” I said, turning to Kasem.
“It’s mostly keeping track of members.” He flipped through the pages. “She mentions the sisterhood of the ?nhye, though.”
There was that name again. When Vivian had been encouraging me to join her sisterhood, it had come up.