It was one of the Fairweather’s safe houses. One they used to conduct business, one that Grandfather assured his business associates was hidden by impenetrable magic. It had been attacked. The wooden walls had turned to stone, as did everything inside.
Thankfully, no one died. But one of Grandfather’s lower level employees did end up with a stone hand out of it. Unfortunately, that was only the beginning. In the nights to follow, there were more attacks. None, however, haunted her as much as the last one.
The lake house that Julia had spent much of her youth in burst into chrono flames—a fire that could not be put out until it ran its course. The lake house burned for days. No water—rain, snow, no incantation—could stop it.
She watched it burn and, with it, her hope for peace.
Paris’ father set his silverware down a little too roughly at the dinner table. “This is getting out of hand,” he said evenly. “Now, I’m not the kind of man to tell another man what kind of meat to roast over his fire, but I think I’ve got to throw my two cents in here.” He picked up the pork chop they were having for dinner with his bare hands and bit off a huge chunk. Chewing it openmouthed, he added, “These Blackwood folks are bad news. We need to stick a branding iron up their asses and get this damn nonsense over with!”
Paris shot Julia an apologetic glance from across the table. He, like her, seemed more than a little uneasy about the way their respective parents seemed to be handling this.
Julia shot him a similar look, one meant to tell him that the apology wasn’t necessary.
“While I wouldn’t necessarily disagree with you, Mr. Wheeler, I have to ask that you refrain from that sort of language in mixed company,” Grandfather said, shuffling in his chair. “It’s a matter of propriety.”
Mr. Wheeler scoffed through a mouthful of pork. “They’ve all heard worse, Fairweather. If y’all don’t get your act together, they’ll be living through it too.” He looked squarely at Julia. “And, if that happens, then a branding iron in the ass will be the least of your problems.”
Paris stood quickly and looked at Julia. “Let’s go!” he said abruptly. Then he smiled nervously. “I mean, let’s take a walk?”
“Great idea,” Julia said, rising opposite of him. The two met at the end of the table, and Julia let him take her hand.
“Have fun, you two,” Grandfather said. “And be careful.”
Julia nodded. “We won’t leave the grounds,” she promised before they continued outside.
They walked around for almost an entire minute before Julia pulled her hand away from Paris’. He looked at her just then, but there wasn’t much hurt in his eyes. Maybe he understood. Maybe he had someone back home, too, someone he was less than happy about leaving behind.
But that was duty for you.
Whatever the reason, Julia was happy that she was at least marrying someone who wasn’t intent on pushing her faster than she was comfortable with.
“I know things might seem hard now,” Paris started, swallowing hard. “But it won’t always be. You just—you have to keep something in mind while all of this is happening.”
“That we have to stay strong. That it’s important to our way of life. That we have to hold tightly to what our forefathers built for us,” Julia recited, rolling her eyes. “I appreciate it, Paris. But I’ve heard it all before.”
“They’ll all be dead soon,” he answered flatly.
Julia tilted her head curiously. “What’s that?”
“That’s what I was going to say,” he answered. “We’re the future, Julia. You, me, Cassandra, even Roman—we’re going to be around long after the old guard is dead and gone. If we want this feud ended, if we want a different way of life, then it’s up to us to make it.” He pushed his shoe against the paved walkway and blew out a low breath. “Not to sound like a fortune cookie or anything, but the future belongs to us.”
Julia blinked, then paused. It felt as though a weight had lifted off her back. She had never thought of it that way, like the feud was something that could be ended, like her life was something she could own and shape the way she wanted and saw fit.
“You know,” she said softly. “You might be—”
Julia felt the strong push of energy as it swept past her and knocked into Paris, pitching him off his feet. He landed on his back with a thud, and Julia knelt to help him.
“My God.” She gasped. “What happened?”
“Get away from him.”
Julia heard the voice as clear as day. Though, even if it hadn’t been clear, she’d have still recognized it. “Roman, what are you doing here?”
Her heart broke as she took him in. He looked tired and worn. And more than that, he looked sad. Broken.
“You know better than this,” she said, blinking back tears.
He was on Fairweather property again, and there was no way she could save him twice. “I used to,” he said. “Now do what I said, and get away from him.”
“He didn’t do anything,” Julia said, fury building in her chest. She was angry at him. Not for the war or for the feud, but for throwing away everything they ever had by choosing those two things over their history together. “This isn’t his fault.”
“Wasn’t Adam’s fault, either,” Roman said, energy pooling around his hands. “That didn’t stop it.”
Her throat closed in as she tried to find the words she thought might stay his hand. All she had was, “I’m begging you not to do this, Roman. Please.”
“You don’t have to fight for me, Darlin’,” Paris said, sitting upright. “I’m a Louisiana boy. I can do plenty of that myself.”
Paris twisted his hand, and the energy around Roman doubled.
Roman’s eyes went wide.
“Yeah,” Paris said, winking at the other warlock. “Neat little trick I learned in the swamps. Wanna see another?”
He twisted his hand again, and Roman started sinking into the earth.
Roman closed his eyes, whispered something Julia couldn’t hear, and the earth startled cracking around him.
“Awe, don’t do that,” Paris said. “You’ll mess up the roses.”
He twisted his hand again, and Roman started sinking faster.
“Th—” Roman started, but Paris twisted his hand, catching the breath in Roman’s throat.
“I’ve heard just about enough of that.” He leered at Roman. “Now you listen to me. The way I see it, you and me got no beef. Let’s not start making trouble where we don’t have to.”
Julia lunged forward to stop Paris, but he stuck out his arm to stop her, never taking his eyes off Roman.
“What’s going on between our folks don’t have to affect us,” Paris continued. “If you see it different, then I’ll kindly remind you that you’re the way halfway in the ground right now.”
He walked closer. Roman’s breath sputtered.
“Get your ass out of here, and don’t come back,” Paris said.
He twisted his hand again and the earth spit Roman back out, pushing him toward the outer gates.
“This is an act of kindness, Roman. You only got it because it seems like my girl didn’t want to see you die.” He sneered as the gates slammed shut with Roman on the other side. “That won’t stop me twice.”
12
Roman
April’s glare burned into Roman from across the room. “For God’s sake, Roman. Keep the sage on.”
He was bruised with a cut lip and a swollen eye. But that wasn’t the worst of his injuries. He was also angry, embarrassed, and whether he wanted to admit it or not, more than a little sad.
“I’m not interested in the Goddamn sage, April,” he said, tossing the plant to the ground.
“Well, you should be.” She marched over with clenched teeth and scooped it back up. “It’s the only thing that’s going to promote healing fast enough for you to hide your little excursion from the rest of the coven.”
She pressed it back against his swollen eye and stood there.
“Who says I want to hide it?” he asked, daring her to disagree with him.
“I say it.” She shook her head. “I mean, seriously. What possessed you? You didn’t have approval from Father and, what’s more, you got your ass kicked. So yeah, if I were you, I’d want to keep that under wraps.”
Roman scoffed, averting his gaze, and batted the sage away. “Adam is dead,” he said flatly. “What was I supposed to do?”
April crushed the sage in her hand and let it fall back to the floor. “That’s not what this is about, and you know it.”
“What is that supposed to mean?” he asked, narrowing the eye that wasn’t swollen shut at her. Thankfully, it was the one he could still see out of.
“Adam was killed by the Fairweathers. You didn’t attack a Fairweather.”
“That swamp rat might as well be a Fairweather,” he muttered. “He’s joining them. He’ll pay like the rest of them do.”
“What is he going to pay for exactly, Roman?” April asked. “Because he had nothing to do with Adam’s death, and he sure as hell had nothing to do with this ridiculous feud. So, the way I see it, you want him to pay for the fact that he’s marrying Julia. And the sooner you admit the way you feel about that, the better off all of us will be.”
Roman thundered to his feet. Pain shot through him, but he tried not to wince. “Don’t tell me how I feel, April.”
“I wouldn’t have to if you’d just tell yourself,” she said. “Do you really think this is helping anything? What about making yourself miserable is doing anybody any good?” Gently, she brushed her brother’s arm with her hand. “Do you think Adam would want this? Do you think he’d want you to live the rest of your life in pain, being less than you can be?”
“Don’t you dare,” he said, blinking back moisture. “Adam would want me to avenge him! That’s what he would want!”
“At what cost?” she asked. Her voice was almost steady, but her heard the tremble in the start of it. “You’re going to give your entire life for this? Because that’s what almost happened today.”
“Don’t be dramatic.”
“Don’t be stupid,” she said. “You let pride and all that garbage get on the way of the things that matter.” She took a deep breath. “None of us know how this Godforsaken feud started, but I’d bet dollars to dandelions that it had to do with two men who wouldn’t bend even an inch. And look at all the chaos it’s brought. Look at all the lives it’s ruined. Adam wasn’t the first, but he could be the last. If we just let this all go. And then you’d get to live the life you wanted, Roman. Wouldn’t that be nice? Wouldn’t that be the best way to honor our brother?”
“You want me to let it go?” His face twisted even more than it already was. “You want me to let go of our brother’s death? You want me to crawl over there to the Fairweathers and tell them that all is forgiven? You want me to beg them to stop this? Tell them that we were wrong? That we’re scared little bitches? That we don't value our dead? Our family? Because that’s what they would think, April! That’s what everyone in three counties would think!”
April sighed. “You’re missing the point,” she said. “You’re just missing the damn point.”
“You’re the one missing the point,” he said, his face getting hotter by the moment. “But I don’t know why I expected anything else. You’ve always been soft. It was cute once upon a time, but were in war now. And this nonsense has to stop.”
He stepped closer, his hands shaking at his side from all the hurt and anger. “You think there’s a way out of this that doesn’t involve blood? That makes you the idiot, April. Not me. If you think there’s any way in this world or the next that Julia and I could end up as anything other than the worst of enemies, then that makes you the biggest fool on the planet.” His hands squeezed into fists, trying to absorb the tension. Those words hurt him more than they hurt his sister. “And even if it didn’t, she’s marrying someone else.”
April’s arms went slack at her sides, her usual ‘tell’ of exasperation. “Because she has to, Roman. Come on! You know this.”
“You know better than that, April. You saw that girl lose her mind. You watched what she did to protect herself. No one can force Julia Fairweather to do anything. If she’s marrying that man, it’s because part of her wants to. And we both know what that means for me.”
April put her hand on Roman’s arm again. “What is meant to happen will always happen, Roman. We all have to believe that. Especially now.”
He yanked his arm away. “Don’t.” He narrowed his eyes, shaking his head. “Don’t quote Mom to me. If that was true, she’d still be here. And so would Adam. There is no meant to be. There’s only what is and what we make. And, whether you like it or not, what I’m going to make is going to set those sons of bitches on fire.”
13
Julia
Julia laid her head against the pillow. Even though it was late, she was anything but tired. Her mind had been racing, pushing through all the craziness that had happened today.
Watching Paris and Roman go at it was like watching her heart be pulled apart right before her eyes.
But wasn’t that what all of this felt like anyway?
Everything that had happened since she came back to this Godforsaken city seemed bent on convincing her to leave again.
Still, she knew she couldn’t. Even if she wanted to, even if every fiber of her being pulled her back to Iowa, she couldn’t now. She couldn’t forget about Roman, not after giving in to him again. And she couldn’t up and leave Paris. He was a good man, and her grandfather was right when he told her she had a duty to her coven.
Even if that was true, though—even if she was destined to be shackled to this Louisiana warlock for the rest of her life—that didn’t mean she could just stand by and watch Roman get himself killed.
And that was exactly what was going to happen if he kept on with this nonsense.
Adam had died. So yes, she understood why he felt as if he needed to do something—even something dark and drastic and wrong. But Paris had almost put him in the ground today, and she doubted she would be able to stop him from doing it should the opportunity arise again.
She had to get through to him somehow. She had to see him, talk to him. But right now, going anywhere near a Blackwood witch—especially Roman—would be as foolish as anything Roman had done.
No. She had to reach him a different way. The way they used to when they were kids and sneaking out of the house at night wasn’t an option.
That was why she ingested the sea kelp. Why she was laying here now, eyes closed but still awake, trying to fall into that magical space between sleeping and consciousness.
After blowing out a small, slow breath, she mumbled the familiar incantation. Just saying the words made her body tingle all over with excitement and anxiety.
It wasn’t as though astral projection were all that uncommon. Even humans had done it before. But for her kind of witch, it was something different. Something that became someone how more real, scarier, thrilling.
When she was certain the spell had taken hold—when she felt the air around her shift and her body tilt upright—she opened her eyes.
And there he was. Standing in his room, wearing boxers and nothing else.
He blinked at her, those dark eyes accessing things. “Your timing is terrible,” he muttered. “You never really did get the hang of that spell.”
She couldn’t help but smile. He was right. She’d probably been standing there with her eyes closed for a few minutes already, and he watching her, waiting to see when she would realize she wasn’t home anymore.
Well, not really. Her body was still there, but her being was here. Where it was meant to be—with Roman.
“It’s been awhile since we’ve done this,” he continued. “I assumed you’d used the last of the sea kelp.”
“Not yet,” she said, trying to find strength in her voice. To say she felt outside of herself would be an understatement, and it
always took a moment for her to really find her voice.
“I tried to contact you right after you moved, you know,” he said, standing as still as a statue. “Adam had some extra kelp hidden in his room. I must have tried every night for two months before I finally gave up.”
“I know,” she said quietly, her face reddening. She knew Roman would try to get in touch with her. That was why she took the steps necessary to make sure he was unable to do that. “It’s just, back then, I wasn’t really—”
“Accepting calls,” he cut in. “Even from me. I get it.” He looked off to the side and then back at her. “Lucky for you, I am. At least for the night.”
As his dark gaze drank her in, the words froze in her throat.
Roman closed the distance between them, his body glistening in the candlelight flickering about his room. “So?” he whispered huskily, looking down into her eyes, “what can I do for you?”
Her body warmed, starting in her stomach and spreading down over and between her thighs. She couldn’t think straight when he was this close, especially with her subconscious trying to work with the spell to keep the connection that had her there.
She stepped back, trying to shake the haze of arousal that was winding around her like a heavy fog.
“We need to talk,” she said, her voice wavering.
“Is that what we need?” He looked her up and down, something dangerously exciting flickering in his eyes. “You should leave. This was a mistake. I never should have let you in.”
“W-what?”
“You heard me,” Roman said. His tone was almost aggressive, but he took her wrists gently into his hands, facing her palms up and staring into them as if all the answers in the world might be found the lifeline that ran through her skin. “We don’t have anything to say to each other,” he whispered. “We can’t.”
“Really?” she asked, her breath catching in her chest. “That’s strange, because I have a lot to say to you.”
“No you don’t, Julia.” His thumbs pressed against soft spot of her wrist, and her pulse thudded softly. “You’re a McConnell. I’m a Blackwood.”
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