Chapter 7 #2
I stay close to him. Not because I need protection. No. Absolutely not. But because my magic stirs uncomfortably when people brush too close.
“Don’t wander,” he murmurs, eyeing the patrons with obvious distrust.
“I wasn’t planning to.”
He leads me to the bar, where a woman with iridescent eyes and pale silver braids stops wiping a glass mid-motion. “Slade,” she says, voice low, almost melodic. “Didn’t expect you for another decade.”
“I work irregular hours.” He gestures toward me. “We’re looking for Bellamy records.”
Her gaze slides to me. A spark of recognition flares. “You’re one of them,” she says with certainty.
“One of who?” I ask.
But she ignores me, leaning in further. “What kind of Bellamy are you seeking, demon?”
“Old ones,” Slade replies. “Origins. Curse work.”
The woman stills. No—she freezes. Her fingers curl around the bar, knuckles whitening. When she speaks again, her voice has dropped to a hush. “That’s dangerous history.”
Slade tilts his head. “Not that dangerous.”
She gives a dry laugh. “Everything connected to that lineage is dangerous. But you already knew that.” She studies me for a long, suffocating moment—eyes flicking over my face, my aura, the faint shimmer of magic that’s probably still reacting to Slade’s earlier proximity.
Finally, she exhales.
“There’s not much left,” she says quietly. “Most of the older Bellamy records were either hidden too well… or destroyed before anyone could get to them.”
My stomach twists. “Destroyed by who?”
She lifts one shoulder in a grim half-shrug. “Witches. Hunters. Time. No one really knows anymore. People are good at erasing the things that scare them.” Her gaze drifts to Slade. “Or the things they can’t control.”
Slade’s jaw tightens, just enough for me to notice.
“But,” she continues, leaning closer, “one fragment survived. Just one. Old enough that it predates most living bloodlines.” Those iridescent eyes lock on mine. “Rare enough that even speaking of it tends to attract attention.”
I swallow. “What fragment?”
Something flickers behind her expression—hesitation… or fear. “The first name,” she whispers. “The first Bellamy touched by the curse. Five centuries ago.”
My pulse stutters. Slade goes very still beside me. “Who?” I ask, breath catching before the word even forms.
“Veda Bellamy,” the woman answers. “The origin point. Or the closest thing anyone’s been able to confirm.”
A shiver rolls down my spine. “What happened to her?” I ask, even though I’m terrified of the answer.
“No one knows.” She shakes her head slowly. “Some say she disappeared. Others say she broke under whatever the curse demanded. Some say she survived it.”
Her eyes grow distant—haunted. “But all that’s left now is a name—a whisper, really—and a warning.”
Before I can ask anything else, the front door of the bar swings open with a sharp crack. A wave of energy ripples through the room—subtle but unmistakable. My skin prickles. The air thickens. Conversation dies instantly.
The bartender’s eyes widen. “She shouldn’t be here,” she murmurs, gaze flicking toward me. “Not with the curse waking. Not now.”
Slade moves before I can breathe. One step, then another—smooth, controlled, predatory—until he’s a wall of heat at my back, eclipsing the room behind him. His voice is soft but final. “We’re leaving.”
I nod, throat tight.
Outside, the cold hits like a warning. Snowflakes tumble under the glow of the neon sign, the wind whispering through the narrow alley beside the bar. Slade guides me to a waiting car with a hand at the small of my back—light, steady, grounding.
When we reach the passenger side, I finally manage words. “So… Veda Bellamy. Five hundred years ago.” I swallow hard. “First recorded curse-bearer.”
Slade meets my gaze, eyes burning with something unreadable—dark, thoughtful, almost protective—but there’s something else beneath it. Something older, more wary. “And we’re going to find out what happened to her,” he says.
“Why?” My voice comes out smaller than I intend, trembling at the edges.
He takes one slow step closer, boots sinking slightly into the snow. The wind curls around us, cold biting at my cheeks, but his presence is warm—too warm—like he’s radiating heat from somewhere beneath his skin.
“Because whatever touched her bloodline,” he murmurs, “is touching you now.”
It’s not enough. Not anymore. I cross my arms tightly. “That’s not an answer.”
His gaze flicks away—just for a heartbeat—but it’s the first time I’ve seen him look… unsure.
“Slade.” I take a step toward him. “You dragged me out here. You inserted yourself into my life. You keep talking about bonds and curses and fate. If you know more than you’re admitting—start talking.”
He huffs a quiet laugh, not amused. “Careful, little witch.”
“No,” I snap. “No more warnings. No more riddles. Tell me the truth. Why do you care what happens to my family? Why does any of this matter to a demon who wasn’t supposed to answer my summoning in the first place?”
He goes very still. The snowflakes drifting between us pause in the air like they’re waiting. “I didn’t say it didn’t concern me,” he murmurs.
“That’s not an explanation.”
He exhales slowly, fog curling from his lips. “Because your bloodline didn’t just create a curse, Piper.” His eyes lift to mine, piercing, ancient. “It broke something first.”
A cold knot forms low in my stomach. “Broke… what?”
He takes another step closer, the distance between us shrinking until the air feels electric. “Five centuries ago,” he says softly, “Veda Bellamy wasn’t just the first to carry the curse. She was bound. Promised. Marked to another.”
My breath catches. “A mate?”
“An intended,” Slade corrects. “Magic chose for them. Fate sealed it.”
“And she refused?” I whisper.
His jaw tightens. “…Yes.”
“So the curse wasn’t just born from a Bellamy,” I say slowly, pieces clicking into place. “It was born from betrayal.”
His silence is confirmation. I swallow hard, forcing the words out. “And the person she betrayed—who were they?”
Slade’s eyes darken, the green deepening until it’s nearly black. The wind gusts around us, stirring his coat, ruffling my curls. He leans in, lowering his voice to a gravel-soft whisper that seems to echo with something older than language. “My ancestor.”
The world tilts. For a heartbeat, all I hear is the rush of my own pulse. “You…” I breathe. “Your line was her original match.”
“Yes,” he answers.
“And when she rejected that bond—”
“The curse manifested,” Slade finishes. “On her. On her descendants. And—by extension—on mine.”
The revelation sinks into my bones like ice water. “So you’re not helping me,” I say, voice thin. “You’re helping yourself.”
A muscle jumps in his jaw. “It’s both.”
“No. You’re using me.”
He steps closer, heat rolling off him. “If I intended to use you, Piper, you’d already be mine.”
The words shouldn’t make my stomach flip—but they do.
My breath trembles out in a cloud of frost. “So you’re bound to this because of some ancient Bellamy witch and a choice she made five hundred years ago?”
“Not just bound,” he murmurs. “Entangled.”
I shake my head, trying to make sense of it. “You keep saying the curse responds to me. But if your bloodline was part of the original break—why isn’t it destroying your life every Christmas, too?”
A slow, dangerous smile curves his mouth. “Because demons don’t break the way humans do.”
My heart stutters.
“And because,” he adds, voice dipping lower, “the curse wants something from us. Something it didn’t get last time.”
I swallow. “What?”
His gaze burns hotter. Older. Hungry. “The completion of the bond.”
The snow seems to hush around us. My pulse thunders. “No,” I whisper. “You can’t just—no. I didn’t sign up for that.”
“You summoned me,” he reminds gently. “Magic answered. Fate followed.”
“I didn’t summon fate,” I protest.
He steps close enough that the cold can’t reach me. Close enough that his breath warms my cheek. “That may be true… But it still summoned me.”
The night closes in—quiet, heavy, alive. And with his bloodline tied to mine, with Veda Bellamy’s shadow looming behind us and the curse beginning to stir…
For the first time since Slade walked into my life, I’m not confused. Not overwhelmed, or annoyed.
I’m afraid.