Page 47 of Cursed Bonds: An Alpha's Destiny

“I thought I might be seeing you again soon. How can I help you, Kirsten?”

I chuckled. “Good memory.”

“It’s not every day one meets an eclectic witch.”

“Were those women witches?”

Tinsley bobbed her head. “Kind of. They aren’t true witches like you and me, just students of the craft. Humans can, with varying degrees of success, practice some very basic forms of magic. Barely more than party tricks, honestly. Wicca has become a bit of a religion in these newer days. A bygone remembrance of the old days when our kind lived in the open. To answer your question, though, all witches are Wiccans, but not all Wiccans are witches. If I had to only do business with true witches, I would have gone belly-up a long time ago.”

“Interesting,” I muttered.

“Magic can be a little confusing. Especially if you weren’t raised with the lore.”

“That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about,” I admitted. “What do you know about curses?”

Tinsley laughed, a musical sound that put me at ease rather than on edge. “I know as much about curses as a doctor does about medicine, my dear. Every witch does. Each of us has our own way of dealing with enemies, dangers, and problems. Are you looking to curse someone or something in particular?”

I chewed on my lower lip, trying to think of how to explain, and before I could stop myself, I told her everything. About my great-grandmother Dorothy, Jace and his mistake, the way the curse had affected him.

Tinsley stared at me contemplatively for several moments after I’d finished my story, then shook her head in wonder. “Your great-grandmother cursed someone, and the spell has lasted over a hundred years?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Basically.”

“She must have been a very determined witch. It’s not easy to create a curse like that. Real life isn’t like a fairy tale. Curses are a bit like houseplants. To keep them strong and healthy, they usually need some attention here and there, rebuilding the power, reenergizing the magic from time to time.”

“Does that mean someone else is carrying on the curse?” I asked, a little worried about another, more powerful witch going up against me.

“Not necessarily,” Tinsley said, then pointed at the door. “Go ahead and lock up, and turn the ‘open’ sign around. We’ll do some research.”

“Oh, I don’t want you to lose money helping me.”

Tinsley rolled her eyes. “Those two who just left purchased the collected works of Aleister Crowley. First editions—one of them signed. I could close for a week after that sale and still be fine.”

I did as she said, and as I turned the deadbolt switch, I gazed through the glass at the street outside. The juxtaposition was odd. I was in a modern, bustling city, moving along like nothing strange was happening, then in here among the old books and clouds of incense. I was like a traveler outside time, looking through a portal to a reality centuries removed from the one I stood in. Shaking off the thought, I joined Tinsley at the counter as she pulled book after book off the shelves.

“So, what did you mean when you said not necessarily? Didn’t Dorothy need help to complete the curse?”

“Usually, but not always,” Tinsley said. “If a spell is imbued with enough power, it could, in theory, maintain its strength for a century or even more. The issue is power consumption.”

“Power consumption?”

“When a witch casts a spell, builds a ward, brews potions, or whatever, we access the spiritual realm. Sort of a shadow world that exists right beside our own. It’s where our power comes from. The difference between a witch and a regular person is that we are born with the ability to tap into that realm and draw power from it. Imagine a beautiful and ornate antique lamp. Gorgeous to look at, fantastic quality, and craftsmanship? That’s a regular human. Now imagine that someone picks up the plug and inserts it into an outlet, allowing the lamp to access the huge amount of power—invisible power—running through the walls? A bright glow that can dispel the night, push back the shadows, and cast gorgeous colors on the walls and ceiling? That’s a witch.”

“Oh,” I said dumbly, a bit awestruck by the description.

“The more powerful the witch, the more power she can access. Depending on what type of witch, they can also access different types of power. A green witch can’t really pull in precognition magic. Being a witch, she might have some faint skill at everything, but she won’t be able to master the other without obtaining the power required. Does that make sense?”

“Sort of,” I said. “How does all this pertain to my great-grandmother?”

“For her curse to last that long, she must have put a lot of energy behind it—more than a mortal should have been able to draw from the spiritual realm alone. How long did she live after the curse?” Tinsley asked, glancing up at me.

“I have no idea. I never met her. Why?”

“One way a witch can strengthen a spell or curse is through life force. Either their own or, in extreme circumstances, a prisoner or slave. That kind of magic is time-consuming and difficult. Honestly, I don’t know how she could have done it even then.”

I sank down on a stool beside her. “Why not?”

“If what you’re saying is true, and Jace can’t find a mate, it would be incredible. The shifter mating connections are a magic of their own. These things aren’t just biological or physical; shifters find their mates based on a connection to another person that has its roots in the magic that created them in the first place. To prevent a shifter from mating with someone else is… well, hell, it’s really hard to do. For want of a better word, your great-grandmother was a badass.”

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