by J. L. Weil
A nasty sinking feeling settled in my stomach. What Brooklyn was saying coincided with the vision. My heart hurt for my mother and what she must have been going through. But my heart broke for the boy who lost his life that night.
Everyone around the table was on the edge of their seats, including me, waiting to hear what happened next. Brooklyn might be a raging lunatic, but she wasn’t a half bad storyteller. Who would have thought?
“The night they gathered with the witch to perform the spell, your father showed up. He broke their circle. My uncle lunged, and his heroic actions to protect your mother cost him his life. Your father hit him with a death spell,” she spat, her voice growing in anger.
Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. She seemed to be getting heated over the retelling. “I’m sorry, Brooklyn, but you have to know that has nothing to do with me.”
“You’re wrong. It has everything to do with you. It was because of you,” she barked in a thin voice.
If I snapped back, I wouldn’t get any more details from Brooklyn. I had to rein the growl back and remain calm.
“What happened . . . after?” I asked as smoothly as I could manage.
Crossing her arms over her chest, Brooklyn glared at me. “They locked your father up.”
My life had become something out of a paranormal novel. Hell, my life was a paranormal murder mystery.
Her head tilted to the side as she continued to glower at me. “They said he went mad in prison. You’re going to end up just like him,” she hurled with venom strong enough to poison me.
Did she—? Had she—? I couldn’t even grasp the implication behind her words. I got it. She hated me and had more reason to hate me than anyone else. But me? Murder someone? Was that the curse? Was I doomed to kill someone? Torent? Beck? Brooklyn? Okay, the last idea I could entertain for a hot minute, but no matter how ugly Brooklyn could be, I would never have the heart to end her life.
But throw a milkshake at her?
Hell yes.
Something inside me snapped. It happened so fast, a gut reaction. Before I got the chance to process what my hand was doing, the vanilla shake clutched in my fingers was sailing across the table. The semiliquid ice cream splattered down the front of Brooklyn’s shirt. Poor Cora, who was sitting next to Brooklyn, caught some of the stray drops.
I had assaulted the mean girls with a milkshake.
“You basic bitch,” Brooklyn seethed, jumping to her feet. Flames radiated in her eyes.
“Oops,” I said with a sly smile, a hand flying to my lips. Things just got a little messy. This wasn’t going to bode well for my social status.
“You’ll pay for this.” Brooklyn’s voice had gone so low, prickles formed at the back of my neck.
Wasn’t I already?
Chapter 8
I ran from the lunchroom. Someone called my name over the cafeteria chatter. I thought it was Beck, but I kept going, quickly turned the corner, and smacked into Torent. I swear the demon had ESP when it came to me. He had a way of always being in the right place at the right time. The universe was telling me something, and I was being too stubborn to listen.
His hands landed on my shoulders, preventing me from bolting. “Hey, what’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I need to go home,” I rushed out, trying to maneuver around him a second time, but he wasn’t having it.
His fingers stayed firm on my shoulders. “Fine, I’ll drive you.”
“There’s no point in us both getting detention for skipping class.” I could sense the metal around me—the lockers, the screws in the walls, and the supports under the floor—but the school’s wards kept me from going full metal freak-out. Otherwise, I might have very well brought the school walls down around me.
The idea was terrifying, but the dark shadow of thoughts in my head petrified me more.
What if Brooklyn was right? What if I was as dark as my father? What if the combination of being the daughter of the goddess of night and a warlock doomed me to an ill-omened fate?
His hands trailed down my arms, and he interlaced our fingers, giving them a squeeze. “You’re worth giving up a Saturday for.”
I nodded. No arguments this time. I needed to get out of here.
Torent drove us out of the school parking lot toward my house in silence. I stared out the window at the snow-covered mountains rolling by. The view was always beautiful in Havenwood Falls and with Christmas just a few weeks away, the town looked like something out of a painting with its colored lights, bright red bows, and handcrafted pine wreaths, but today I barely noticed. My mind glazed over the landscape, stuck in my own thoughts.
“Are you going to tell me what happened?” Torent asked, breaking me out of my trance.
I pulled my gaze from the side window to look at him. He had the kind of dark beauty a girl could easily get hung up on. “Only if you promise not to laugh.”
He took a hand off the steering wheel for a second and held it up in a salute. “Demon’s honor.”
I snorted. A demon’s honor meant crap, but this was Torent, and I had come to trust him as much as I did Beck. “I threw a milkshake at your ex-girlfriend.”
His lips twitched. “I would have paid to see that. Any chance I could get you to do it again?”
Crossing my arms, I sank down in the seat. “I’m sure it’s already up on YouTube.”
“What did she say to piss you off?”
He knew Brooklyn well and how she loved to push my buttons. Being short-tempered and on edge didn’t help the situation. I was angry, along with a shit ton of other emotions. “She can be such a heinous bitch.”
“Very true,” he agreed, keeping his focus on the road.
“She isn’t entirely to blame,” I admitted, even though the admission left a bad taste in my mouth. “I don’t know what I was thinking, going to her for information, but she did fill in some missing gaps about my father and what happened that night.”
His lips turned down into a frown. “And that’s what has you running?”
I wasn’t running, was I?
Maybe a little, but more than anything I wanted my mom.
It was time she and I had a little chat. No more secrets. No more lies. I deserved the truth. I wasn’t a child to be protected any longer.
I walked through the front door and was overwhelmed with a sense of nostalgia. I hadn’t grown up in this house, but over the month it had become my home and represented everything I had ever longed for. Stability. Love. Roots.
My boots shuffled over the hardwood floors into the family room, where I found my mom curled up on the couch with a book. The fireplace was roaring, wood popping and crackling in the stone hearth. She looked so beautiful with the glow of amber highlighting her golden skin and hair. Today was her day off from work.
“Mom?” My voice was soft but carried over the room.
She jumped, the trashy romance book she had been engrossed in falling into her lap. “Mallory, you scared me.” Her eyes glanced over the clock on the wall before her brows furrowed together in confusion. “What are you doing home? Shouldn’t you be in school?”
I tried to keep the tears at bay as I walked to the couch. She pulled her feet in closer so I could sit.
“Honey, what’s got you so upset?” she asked, placing the book from her lap onto the coffee table.
The words came pouring out. “Why did you never tell me my father was a murderer?”
She wasn’t shocked by what I said, not like I imagined she would have been. The only reaction on her face was a slight lift of her eyes, but the few moments of silence spoke volumes. “I’ll make us some coffee. We could both use it. And then we’ll talk.”
I was grateful for a minute or two to collect myself. She came from the kitchen with two mugs, offering me one before sitting back down beside me on the couch.
Lifting her feet up on the rectangular table, she stared into the fireplace. “I’ve dreaded this moment since the day you were born.
It was foolish of me to have taken you from Havenwood Falls. I see that now, but back then, I was scared and desperate to save you from a fate not of your making. I wanted more than anything to give you the life of your choosing, but some things can’t be undone. If I’d had the power to give you a different father, I wouldn’t hesitate. You deserve so much more.”
I pulled my legs up onto the couch, tucking them to the side. “I know why you did what you did. I just don’t know why you never told me.”
Her fingers tapped lightly against the Christmas mug Gigi was so fond of. “At first you were too young and as time went by . . .” She shook her head. “I didn’t want to blow up your world. As you grew older, I noticed little things that only another supernatural might see. Your powers were manifesting, and there was nothing I could do to stop them, no place I could hide you from who you are. I struggled for months over telling you, and it was Gigi who convinced me we needed to come home. I had every intention of telling you after you’d settled in, but you came into your powers quicker than I anticipated, and you adjusted so well. We made the right choice coming back here. In truth, I was scared. I didn’t want you to hate me.”
“I could never hate you, Mom. We’re a team, you and I. Always have been. Always will be,” I said, offering her a soft smile of encouragement. It was hard to see the female figure in my life vulnerable.
“He wasn’t always so . . . ambitious,” she finally decided, choosing her words carefully. “We started dating freshman year in high school, and it was a whirlwind romance. We were so in love and had dreams. Big dreams, but in hindsight, I should have seen it. He changed right before my eyes, but I was too blinded by my love for him. And then it was too late. I couldn’t save him.” Her eyes turned misty. “But maybe I could save you. So I ran. And kept running.”
I was thankful for the warmth of the fire to relieve the chill that had settled into my veins. “What happened to him?” I asked.
She seemed to lose herself in the past before responding, her voice sad. “The temptation of darkness can be seductive, like a drug. Once you’ve had a taste, you crave more until it is all you can think about. It poisons the mind. Roth had a curious mind, like you, but he didn’t have your strength. He would sneak across the borders of Havenwood Falls to experiment with his powers, which led him to some potent spells—dark magic. On more than one occasion, I followed him, fearful the Blackstone witch hunters would uncover his secret. He was a skilled warlock and learned quickly. By the time I realized he was no longer the boy I fell in love with, I was already pregnant with you, just a few months after graduation.”
I sipped on my coffee as I listened. It was hard to believe this was a true story and not fantasy, but that could apply to most of my life. I’d heard of the Blackstone witch hunters from Beck, but only in passing.
“I desperately wanted that boy back and begged him to stop practicing,” she continued. “He refused, breaking my heart, but I didn’t have just myself to think about, so I ended things. I told Roth it was over. It was naive to think he would let me walk away. I was a possession to him. And I kept my pregnancy a secret; not even Gigi knew. The only people I confided in had been Mira and Ryle. The biggest mistake of my life.”
Her coffee was forgotten, cold in her hand. I couldn’t help but admire her poise and courage as she recounted what was the worst night of her life.
The sadness in her expression faded into worry. “Roth found out about you. I was only nine weeks pregnant and barely had time to contemplate the fact that I was going to be a mom. I don’t know how your father discovered my secret, but if I had to guess, it was dark magic. He knew I was hiding something. Roth wasn’t just curious; he was also extremely perceptive, especially when it came to me.”
“You went to Mira and Ryle for help,” I supplied.
She nodded, her finger circling around the rim of her cup. “I didn’t know what else to do, who else to turn to, but I wish more than anything I had never sought their help. It seemed the only way, a simple spell to make Roth forget me. I refused to let him take you from me, which was exactly what he threatened.”
God, my father sounded like such an asshat.
“I didn’t know what he had planned that night. If I had, I would have tried to stop him. I would have warned Ryle and Mira. They were my best friends. I never would have let him hurt them.”
It was clear Mom still tormented herself with the guilt of Ryle’s death and her lost friendship with Mira. My heart squeezed for her.
“Styx gave me a vision of that night,” I said softly.
Her eyes widened a fraction. “That doesn’t surprise me. I haven’t been back to the lake yet. I can’t bring myself to go.” She set aside the coffee and folded her hands in her lap. “He came upon us near Peacock Lake with a witch, Lyra Beaumont. She was in the middle of her spell, which had drained some of her energy, but even at full power, I don’t think she would have been a match for Roth. He had grown stronger each day, and that night I feared him more than death itself.” A shudder rolled through her petite frame as she relived that horrible event. “He struck with dark violence before we had a chance to defend ourselves. His target had been Lyra, to stop her from finishing the spell. Ryle threw himself in front of her. The spear of darkness hit him in the center of his chest. I’ll never forget the look in his eyes, full of shock and pain.”
A lump of emotion lodged itself in my throat.
“He killed him and just took off,” I said, unable to disguise the repulsion in my voice.
Mom’s voice faltered for an instant. “No. He might have done more harm, but that kind of magic doesn’t go unnoticed in Havenwood Falls. It was a matter of minutes before Roth was surrounded. That night was the last time I saw him.”
“He was sentenced to jail.”
She nodded. “He was. Life without parole.”
“Even with him locked away, you still decided to leave?”
“I didn’t trust a supernatural prison would hold him, not even one bound by fae magic. Fear drove me from Havenwood Falls. I didn’t want him anywhere near you. Gigi agreed. She helped me leave and find a safe place to stay until you were born. I made Gigi swear to never tell you. She gave me her word, but she didn’t agree. I don’t think his parents ever knew about you, but his family left Havenwood Falls shortly after his sentencing.”
I couldn’t imagine how alone she had felt. The picture was clearer but didn’t make the burden I now faced any lighter. Did Mom know about the blood hex that had been passed down to me? If not, could I burden her with more guilt? I couldn’t.
Maybe it was my turn to protect her.
Chapter 9
The wind was howling and whipping outside the Academy building, the classroom of my Awakening Lab unusually cold. More than a week had passed since I’d found out about my father. I tucked my chin inside my hoodie and let the sleeves drape over my fingers. A shiver curled down my neck.
I glanced around the room. No one’s teeth were chattering. No one else had goosebumps covering their skin. I seemed to be the only one freezing half to death.
My arms folded over my chest to keep the warmth close. Too bad Torent wasn’t taking classes at the Academy. I could use a dose of his hellfire. The thought no sooner crossed my mind than I did feel something . . . something weird and unfamiliar. I glimpsed over my shoulder, my eyes darting over the class.
Again, I was alone in my suffering.
Not a single soul flinched as I did. Otis chewed on the end of his pen. He was a shifter with an infatuation for putting things in his mouth. Gianna continued to twirl her glossy hair around her finger, listening to her mom talk. The girl beside me snapped her gum.
But the eerie feeling continued shimmying up my spine until an odd tremor spread over my shoulders, down my arms, and into my fingertips. The first tendrils of unease bloomed in the pit of my belly like a vine of ivy twisting around my insides.
Returning my focus to Mrs. Augustine’s lecture, I did my best to ignore the
chill of concern that had taken up residence inside me. I couldn’t shake the distinct feeling something was about to happen—something dark and unnatural. It was driving me crazy that no one else could sense it. Was I losing my mind?
It’s the fingers of death—my legacy.
Unless Mrs. Augustine had suddenly become a dude with a deep voice, that had not been her speaking.
“I’m sorry. What did you say?” I blurted out before my brain caught up to my mouth.
Utter silence followed. Mrs. Augustine paused in her speech to address me. “Do you have a question, Mallory?”
I had a million questions, but I doubted everyone else in the class wanted to sit there as I peppered Mrs. Augustine with my inquiries about hexes, dead birds, and apparently now mysterious voices in my head. I shook my head. If I could have crawled under my desk and disappeared, I would have.
A few of the people around me shifted in their seats or chuckled. Amusing the class had not been my objective. My heart picked up its pace, and I could feel sweat dotting my palms. Any more outbursts like this, and I’d get kicked out of class.
Mrs. Augustine cleared her throat.
“Sorry, I, uh, didn’t mean to interrupt.” Maybe I was getting sick, not that I’d ever heard of the flu causing voices, but it could very well be a supernatural side effect. That was it. I had a supernatural flu bug. Gigi would definitely have a remedy for that.
You’re not sick, Mallory.
Holy crap on a cracker. The voice burst my bubble.