Page 64 of Curses and Cauldrons

Morty taps the side of his nose. “I see. Well, my lips are sealed.” He makes a zipping gesture over his lips. “If anyone asks, I haven't seen you. And certainly not the two of you together. What a scandal that would be. How are the covens going to cope with a dark witch and a light witch together? It’s like the end times. Or perhaps how things are supposed to be.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, feeling, not for the first time, that Morty is playing with us. He knows so much more than he lets on.

“Just that there are some old ways that have fallen through the cracks of history over time. But they have a way of resurfacing.”

I frown, ready to interrogate him, but Josephine’s hand covers mine. “I guess we can stop by my place, and I can pick up some more clothes while we’re at it.”

Morty hops up, clapping his hands together. “That’s the spirit. Now get out of my shop. I have a mob of hungover, deal-seeking witches to wrangle.”

Josephine stays on my lap for a long moment before standing up with a sigh. She throws her hood back up and lets me guide her out of the shop, keeping her head down until we’re outside.

“Ready to sneak into your apartment?”

“You know, sneaking around sounds like so much fun when you watch it on TV or read it in a book, but in reality, it kind of sucks.”

33

JOSEPHINE

Roman circles the block three times before he eventually lets me out in front of my apartment. Originally, we were checking for either of my parents' cars, but then he couldn’t find a parking spot.

“Are you sure you’re okay to go in without me?” Roman frowns as I get out of the car.

“Hurry up and find a spot. Hopefully, I’ll already have the book before you even turn off the car.” I shut the door before he can offer any protests.

It’s starting to snow, and the wind is ripping through my coat. I hurry up the steps with my keys at the ready. I don’t know how Penelope had the forethought to grab my purse last night, but I’m grateful to have my phone and the keys to my apartment. Worst case, I could have magicked my way through the door, but it’s a whole lot easier to just turn a key.

I also could have asked one of my friends to grab more stuff from my apartment, including the book, but I’ve already put them in a difficult position. Piper’s family is horrible and I hate to think what they might do if they find out she grabbed clothesfor me this morning. As long as Roman’s with me, it’s easier to do this errand myself.

I don’t bother locking the door behind me. Hopefully, Roman will be here in a minute. In my bedroom, I find a suitcase and toss in handfuls of clothes, barely looking at what I’m grabbing. The book from Morty is on my dresser. It goes into the bag with the rest of my stuff. I’m tempted to flip through it to see what Morty thinks will be so helpful, but there will be time for that later.

I lug my suitcase out into the living room, and movement in the kitchen catches my eye. “I hope you have some free drawers because I grabbed as much shit as possible.”

“When did you become so vulgar?”

I whip around at my mother’s voice, all the blood draining from my face.

“Mother.” I swallow thickly.

My mother is sitting on one of the stools, her manicured hands wrapped lightly around the knee of her crossed leg. She’s wearing a pair of cream slacks and a cashmere sweater. Her wool coat is draped carefully over the back of the chair next to her. Her chin-length hair is flawlessly styled. Her make-up is minimal but perfectly suited for a woman in her early fifties. She’s elegant, but no matter how perfect she looks, she can’t hide her fury. It literally vibrates off her skin, her water magic forming little zips of frost that spark around her hands.

Her eyes scan my body, her mouth pursing in displeasure. “You look like a vagrant. I’d be pressed to claim you as my own if any of my friends saw you.” She sniffs as though the very idea horrifies her. Does she think I have amnesia? Does she think I’ve forgotten years of being ignored, shuttled aside, and told to leave the room while more important people had discussions. She’s never introduced me to anyone as her daughter, anyway.

“Don’t you have anything to say for yourself? You sneak out of dinner last night, embarrassing me in front of our coven leader and incredibly important council members, and leaving me to apologize on your behalf.”

Right. If she ever acknowledged my absence, she certainly didn’t call attention to it. She doesn’t even mention my sister. She has to have realized Penelope is gone by now. She’s worried about how last night looks to her associates but doesn’t care about her children, even the smallest bit.

I lift my hand to bite my nail, but force it back to my side. My eyes drift to the door. Where is Roman? As soon as I have that thought, I shove it aside. It’s not his responsibility to solve my problems.

“Why?”

My mother sits up straighter. The glamor she’s wearing to hide her crow’s feet momentarily slips and lets through the signs of aging she tries so hard to hide. “Excuse me?”

“Why are you like this? What have I ever done to deserve the way you treat me?”

Francesca Delvaux’s face sours, and she slithers off the chair. “You dare speak to me that way?”

My fingers are clenched around the handle of my suitcase, and I slowly unfurl them. “I do. I have never been anything but a dutiful daughter. I’ve done everything you’ve ever asked, even at the expense of my health. I’ve never pushed back, never defied you.”

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