Chapter Six #4
Katherine rolled her eyes as she skimmed the rest of the article, detailing Silas’ “long history of charity work.” He had probably shown up for all of five minutes before heading out to shop for his hundredth bottle of expensive cologne.
The Khatris were rich as sin, wildly powerful both in the witching community and outside of it.
Khatri family members and associates were in charge of every major coven in the US besides Aestas, and their influence stretched over the rest of the world as well.
Silas had been groomed to inherit an empire since birth, and everything about him spoke of the ease and privilege that came from a future so secured.
Looking at him was a stark reminder of the pain Lily—the pain all unsettled witches, including Katherine herself—felt when their magic ripped their own futures away from them.
Katherine binned the newsletter, but it wasn’t her meditation app that she opened next.
Instead, she opened another tab and typed in the site from memory.
Her fingers tapped against the mouse as she waited for it to load, then calmed as the page came up.
The fear was always there, that Zac would one day decide to set his Instagram account to private, cutting off the last line between her and her family.
But as of today, her brother’s account remained open.
Katherine scrolled through his page—no new posts, but she could live with what was already there.
Zac was a senior at NYU, majoring in art history, and she could imagine the arguments with their parents over both of those things.
“If you really loved me, you wouldn’t go to a school that far away,” she could hear her mom saying.
Her dad would have rolled his eyes at that, told her that she shouldn’t guilt-trip the boy too hard.
“Planes do exist, Molly. We can get on one anytime you want.” Her mother would have answered with a loud wail about how she shouldn’t have to get on a plane to see her son, and weren’t there good schools in Colorado that he could go to instead?
“No art history in Colorado,” her dad would say.
“We stick to degrees that can actually get you a job here.” And then Zac would have pulled them both into a hug, given them that wide smile of his, and he would say something smart and funny and perfect for the moment, and all would be resolved.
That’s how Katherine imagined the conversation went.
But she knew that it didn’t. Knew that the family dynamic that she remembered—comfortable, loving, always fixable, even when there was strain—was irrevocably broken. By her. By what she’d done.
The boy on the page did not have Zac’s easy grin.
The boy on the page rarely posted pictures of himself.
They were mostly pictures of his art, which had gone from the bright, bold colors that Katherine remembered to slashes of red and black.
The images were still beautiful, still showed a deep, inherent talent for seeing the world. But the world Zac saw …
Her fault.
She knew she should stop, but she couldn’t. She scrolled down the page until she hit it.
One of the few posts that actually showed Zac’s face. And the only one that showed her parents’.
They were at Niagara Falls, the background behind them picturesque.
Her mom had always been obsessed with Niagara Falls.
She’d talked constantly about them taking a family vacation there.
“For a special occasion,” she’d say, and then she’d turn to her daughter and wink.
“Maybe a wedding?” Katherine would flush, say “Mom!” in a low, accusatory tone, and sometimes she’d mean it enough that she’d go to her room and slam the door, and later when she came back out, her mom would call her “Ms. Grumpy” and tell her that one day, she was going to break that door off its hinges, and then where would they be?
Katherine had been so hopeful when she’d seen that picture. Hopeful that her mom’s dream coming true meant that her family had managed to find a way to be happy, even with what she’d done.
They were smiling, their arms wrapped around each other.
If only they hadn’t looked so miserable.
Her dad’s hair, which had been a thinning salt-and-pepper for as long as she could remember, was mostly gone, coming out of his head in frizzy wisps.
Her mom’s was no longer her box-dyed blond; it was pale and stringy, flat against her head like it wasn’t often washed.
The gray in their hair matched the color of their skin, which had gone sallow. Hollowed out.
Zac was worse. Outwardly, he looked the same—same honey-colored hair, same hazel eyes, so like Katherine’s own.
He’d grown into his face, going from boyish and gangly to something that Katherine would’ve called handsome, if it weren’t for the deadness of his expression.
For the twist on that once-beautiful smile.
She slammed her laptop shut. Cheez-It jumped at the noise, leaving an accidental scratch on her leg as he jumped off her and bolted for safety under the bed. Katherine cursed. “Cheezy, you can’t escape a nail trim forever,” she muttered. “Especially when you do shit like this.”
From under the bed, a loud yowl sounded.
“Drama queen.”
He hissed.
Katherine knelt down, then laid herself down on the floor, reaching her hand under the bed.
Cheez-It leaned into the pets for a moment, then came out.
She scooped him up, getting onto the bed and laying him down on her chest. He started to purr, and she shut her eyes, letting the sound lull her to sleep.