Page 53 of Curses and Cauldrons

Picking up my own wine, I down the whole thing in one long drink. My mother has hired extra staff for the night and a man appears over my shoulder to refill my glass the moment I set it down. “Keep them coming,” I grumble.

“Your family home is beautiful.” Anastasia leans in as though we’re in a crowded club, and I can’t hear her over the noise. So far, there’s only the hush of conversations. No one is even eating yet. The food hasn’t been served.

“I’m sure my mother would appreciate the compliment.” Blackthorn Manor is a beautiful home, but it’s not filled with happy memories. There’s a darkness that lingers in the corners of rooms. Shadows of the past and the curses that have been suffered here. Honestly, I feel it in all of the homes of the founding families. There are a lot of bones buried in these people's closets, and you feel it when you walk into their houses.

“Oh my gosh, I know, right.” Brooke leans forward, inserting herself into the conversation. Frankly, I would love to just push my chair back and let the two of them talk to each other. The sneer on Anastasia’s face tells me she wouldn’t feel the same. “I heard you have an indoor pool. I would love to see that. Maybe we could go swimming after dinner.”

“We wouldn’t want to get a cramp and drown,” Anastasia says, picking up her glass and doing that same weird lip fucking thing she did at the founders party. Her eyes tilt up to look at me. I think she’s trying to be sexy, but it’s more creepy than anything.

“You’ll have to ask my mother for a tour later. She loves showing off the place,” I respond to Brooke, feeling bad that she’s out of her league. Anastasia is a vicious cat, and Brooke doesn’t have claws.

Servants enter the room carrying platters full of food. Although they’re presented as though we'll eat family style, it’s actually the servers who pick up our plates and begin piling them full of turkey, cranberries, mashed potatoes, stuffing. If you don’t like something, too bad; you’re getting a plateful of it anyway.

One of the servers places a plate in front of Anastasia, and she uses it as an excuse to press into my side. Her hand lands on my thigh, uncomfortably close to my groin. I can’t feel anything, but I know it’s there.

“That certainly seems like a mouthful,” Anastasia says in a breathy tone.

“Remove your hand.” I don’t look at her or acknowledge her sad innuendo. Instead of doing as I command, Anastasia doubles down and presses her breast into my arm.

“Dinner looks incredible, but I can think of much more appetizing things to put in my mouth.”

I pick up her hand and shove it away from my leg. Anastasia gasps in affronted surprise.

“Anastasia, darling. Have you told Roman all about the work that you’re doing at your father’s company?” My mother interjects from across the table. Her eyes narrow on me as if I’m the one being rude and not the one being groped.

“Yes, I’ve been working at my father’s law firm as a junior associate. It won’t be long until the junior is dropped, though.” She laughs, and her father, who’s sitting near my father, chuckles along with her.

“You may want to brush up on sexual harassment laws. It’s pretty clear you’re unfamiliar with those kinds of cases.” Ignoring the plate of Giana’s incredible cooking, I push back from the table. “If you’ll excuse me for a moment.”

“Roman,” my mother scolds. “We have guests.”

Bram turns to look at the woman next to him. “Didn’t you sleep with Ambrose last week?”

My mother’s face turns purple. What a fucking mess. I can’t get out of the room fast enough.

27

JOSEPHINE

Idon’t know why my mother bothers pretending we’re a happy family meeting for Thanksgiving. Oh, because several of the Lumen council have been invited and she needs to pretend we’re the perfect family.

The dining room has been decorated as though Renaissance kings are about to walk through the door. There are so many candles, vines dripping with berries, and autumn-themed floral arrangements that I’m surprised there’s room for dinner plates. The group hasn’t made it that far, though. We’re gathered in the front parlor, where servers are bringing around trays of sweet potato puffs, butternut squash bruschetta, and cranberry brie bites. Nothing screams comfort food like fancy hors d’oeuvres.

The head of our coven, Selene, is here, along with three other council members and their families. Everyone ignores me, which I’m fine with.

I pull at the pearls around my throat that I had to wear because they matched the dress. Another of my mother’s selections. It’s reminiscent of a Stepford wife. A pale cream satin with flowers along the hem and scooped neckline that not onlywashes me out but also shows every bump and divot on my body. I’ve been forced to wear shapewear underneath. It’s hot and constricting. My hair is pulled back in a low bun, and the earrings match my necklace.

“Stop slouching. You look like a sullen teenager.” I straighten at my mother’s voice. She’s approaching with Selene and Philip Masters, one of the top Lumen council members. His family may not be one of the founders, but his wealth and ass-kissing have brought with it power over the years.

“Happy Thanksgiving, mother, Selene, Mr. Masters.” Despite the fact that I’m an adult, Philip Masters insists I use his surname when speaking to him.

“That is a gorgeous dress.” Philip snickers, and I know the compliment is actually an insult. His eyes drop to my breasts and stay there for so long that I struggle to keep my arms at my sides. He finally lifts his gaze to my mother. “Francesca, are you sure she’s really yours and not a changeling?”

I shrink back, wishing there was a hole to fall into. This is how it always is with my mother and her friends. Camille sidles up to Philip, and he hooks her arm through his as if they’re best friends.

“This shining jewel, I understand,” he simpers at Camille, who smiles up at the older man.

“Genetics are fascinating, aren’t they, Josephine.” Camille brings the attention back to me.

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