Page 13 of Facet

“It’s nothing, really. I was only thinking about how I have nothing from my real family. After all these years, I feel like I’m never going to find them.”

At the heartbroken crack in her voice, I made a vow to find them for her, come hell or high water.

Then I hoped they were good people, because she didn’t deserve the disappointment if they weren’t.

“I thought you didn’t talk to your mom?” Voodoo asked me as he kneeled at his altar and his attention was focused on the little bits of bone, stone, and various items he cast. His hand kept a firm grip on hisgris-gris, a small leather pouch that he wore for protection, as he studied the items before him.

“I don’t. At least not often. That’s why I’m hoping you can see something. Right now, she’s in South America celebrating her latest divorce,” I muttered.

“How many does that make?” he absently murmured.

“Eight? Nine? Hell, I lost count.” I shrugged as I sprawled in his chair and tugged at my hair.

He nodded, but I was pretty sure he had no idea what I’d said. His focus was concentrated on his altar. He was almost in a trance-like state. I had sought him out when my own magic revealed absolutely nothing.

Endless minutes passed, and finally, he turned to me, shaking his head. “All I keep seeing is your mother and a dark aura of some kind beside her. But that’s it. What exactly were you hoping I’d see?”

“No clue. Shit, so I am gonna have to reach out to her,” I grumbled. In all honesty, I was really hoping that he could see something that had remained elusive to my spells. Whatever was going on with me didn’t show itself to him either. With reluctance, I dug my phone out of my back pocket.

“I mean, if she is as powerful a witch as you said, she might be able to help,” Voodoo concurred. “But maybe if you told me a little more about what you’re searching for….”

Yes, I’d gone to Voodoo under the guise that I was hoping he could help me figure out more about Willow’s family, but that wasn’t all. What happened last week had scared the fuck out of me. So much so that I’d hid it from my brothers. When I’d gone to Voodoo, I told him I also needed to try to get more information about my father.

Giving in to the temptation of Willow had changed things. What if I accidentally did that to her? My mom was a witch, and though she had terrible taste in men, she was peaceful. What I’d done had to have come from my father.

But I hated to reach out to my mom.

It wasn’t that I didn’t love her, but she was the reason I swore to never get involved with a woman. Love was bullshit. Her eight or more marriages showed me that clearer than anything. Then there was the fact that the men in her life took precedence over her own son? Well, that was a hard pill to swallow.

With my mom’s track record and how I felt about love, the last thing I ever planned to do was fall for anyone. It would only end in disaster. I’d given into the incredible draw, knowing there was no way it would end well. I should’ve been stronger, right? Pushed a little harder for Willow to stay away, maybe.

Crazy thing was, it didn’t really bother me that much. Considering how I’d felt about settling down before, it was a shocker. But only if I knew I wasn’t going to end up hurting Willow.

“Thanks anyway, bro,” I muttered. “I appreciate you trying.”

“Anytime, but I don’t feel like I did much,” Voodoo replied with a wince of apology. I helped him off the floor and stepped outside.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, I pulled up my mom’s number. Then I leaned against the side of the clubhouse. I stared at the number—like it was going to dial itself. Deciding I needed more than a fucking deep breath, I dug a joint from my pocket. I straightened it out and placed it between my lips. Then using my phone as a windbreak, I lit the end and breathed deep. A little cough left me, telling me I might’ve hit it a little too hard. Then again, maybe not.

Using one thumb, I pressed call, while with my free hand, I took another hit.

It rang four times, and I was ready to hang up when suddenly my mom’s voice shouted through the phone, along with about fifty other people, it sounded like. “Baby! How are you?”

“Great, Mom,” I replied with a tight smile that I knew she couldn’t see.

“FaceTime me, Damien!” She immediately hung up and then my phone rang with a FaceTime call.

“Mom,” I started, but she cut me off.

“No. You don’t get to sound like the world is ending when you call me and not let me see your face. Now, tell me the truth. What is going on?” Mom demanded. A guy that looked around my age came up behind her. He started kissing on her neck and I cringed.

Not because of the age difference, and not because it hadn’t happened before, but because despite everything, that was my fuckingmom.

Then I saw his hand reach around and cup her tit. “Whoa, whoa, whoa. Hell, no, big fella. That’s my mom you’re feeling up, you dick. Mom, I swear to Hades, if you don’t go somewhere private, I’m going down there, and someone is getting their throat slit.”

She glanced over her shoulder and said something in a language I didn’t catch. Then I damn near got motion sickness as she walked out of whatever club or bar she was in. When she was outside and the music was a dull thump in the background, she stared into the phone.

“What happened? First of all, Damien, you know I love hearing from you, but we both know you don’t call me. Which means something bad happened. Did you get someone pregnant?”

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