Page 31 of Curses and Cauldrons

“He told you.”

“Not that I keep a list of your incredibly rare hook-ups, but I am a little surprised. A Delvaux?”

I hesitate, wondering if I should share what happened with Josephine. I hate my curse. I’m not always sure Bram does. That’s not exactly right. I know my brother hates the darkness taking over him, but I don’t know if the darkness gives a shit.

“When I touched her, I could feel.”

All humor disappears from Bram’s face and his entire body tenses. “What does that mean?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

“Is your curse broken?”

On my way up to my office, I purposefully brushed my hand against a few people walking through the lobby. I want to believe it’s not just Josephine, that this fucking curse has finally been lifted. “No. It’s still there with everyone but her.”

“Did she cast a spell on you? How is this possible?” Bram’s thoughts are so similar to my first instinct that I shouldn’t be annoyed, but there’s a small flare of anger that I can’t account for.

“Not that I can tell.” I hesitate to reveal what Josephine told me about her curse. Our curses are weaknesses, and they aren’t something we share outside our trusted circle. Still, for some unknown reason, I don’t want Bram to distrust Josephine.

“Her curse is also gone when she’s with me.”

“She told you what her curse is?” Bram’s eyes widen. He sinks back into his chair with a sound of surprise.

He’d be a hell of a lot more shocked if he knew I told her mine.

17

JOSEPHINE

“Is it really necessary to be barefoot?” Ava grumbles as we huddle together with Stellan and Piper on the outskirts of the coven’s ceremonial site.

Once a month on the new moon, all members of the coven are required to meet at midnight to restore our power and give thanks to the Maiden. Our ceremonial lands sit just outside Mystic Hollows in the Grimwood. Trees have been cleared to form a perfect circle around a stone altar that hums with power. I’ve only ever touched it once, and that was enough. The slab sits on a piece of carved marble. The stone altar is short, not much more than four feet in length. One edge is smooth and the other jagged, as though a piece broke off at one point.

Selene Nightshade is the head of our coven, blessed by the Maiden to lead us. I’m not sure what the criteria is. All I know is that she scares me. She’s mingling with the crowd of over two hundred witches, floating from person to person and bestowing her presence upon the more powerful families while ignoring those with lesser magics.

“Selene says it serves as a conduit for our magic and eases the transfer of power to us.” Piper recites, although I can tell she’s just as skeptical as the rest of us.

“Then why is she wearing shoes?” Ava hisses back.

“Do as I say, little sis. Not as I do. Don’t you know that’s how the world works?” Stellan has his arm thrown around Ava’s shoulder. She pokes him in the side.

“I’m still older, dipshit. Are mom and dad here?” Ava searches the clearing, but it’s hard to make out faces. There are candles scattered across the altar, but that’s the only light. Unless you bump into someone, it’s hard to determine who they are. Like me, I’m sure Ava would rather avoid her family. They had a falling out a few years ago and haven’t spoken since. I wonder if they even remember her. They’ve made no effort to see her since the rift and it only takes a couple weeks before Ava’s curse ensures that she will be forgotten.

My mother insists I stand with the family at the new moon ceremony. I don’t arrive with them, but I know where they always congregate. While it’s tempting to stay away, I know better. Once, when I was nineteen, and my curse had fully set in, I skipped the ceremony. The next time around, my mother brought Penelope with her and said she could stand in my place. Then she punished me for my absence.

At the time, I still lived at home. I was dragged out of bed in the middle of the night by my mother, father, and sister Camille. They laid hands on the bare skin of my legs, arms, face for hours. I was only in a T-shirt and tiny sleep shorts. Any humiliation I felt at being exposed was wiped out by the sheer amount of pain. I couldn’t even fight back.

Eventually, I passed out, but not before I heard them chatting and laughing over my pain-wracked body. As though it was the perfect opportunity for a visit, and they weren’t torturing a cursed young woman.

The ceremony is supposed to be a renewal for our magic, but mine doesn’t work that way. Since the night my mother brought Penelope in my place, I haven't fought my mother’s demands. I’ll have to go find them soon enough.

My phone vibrates in my pocket, and a fire starts to burn low in my belly. It has to be him.

After the surprise floor orgasm at Roman’s house, I panicked. I ran out of there like my ass was on fire. I wanted to stay and lie around with him all day. To bask in the feeling of his touch and how calm the world seemed at that moment, but I got all nervous instead. I hadn’t shaved my legs, and I was wearing stretched-out undies. After I had some time to absorb what happened, I realized that Roman probably didn’t care about any of that. He hasn’t felt another person’s touch in years. There’s a good chance he’d screw a Wookie if it gently stroked his hair.

There was something about Roman’s confession that made me instantly sympathize. Probably more than anyone, I understand what it’s like not to touch someone. But it also left an ache in my heart. Roman isn’t dragging me into dark corners and giving me his number because he’s interested in me personally. It’s because I’m literally his only option. For some fucked up reason, the universe has given us this small reprieve. Or it’s fucking with us. If history has taught me anything, it’s probably the latter.

I’ve stewed on those thoughts for two days. He didn’t text me that day, and I still don’t know if he was giving me space or if he doesn’t want to put in the effort. In a moment of weakness, I sent him a picture of Dick VanDyke. To which he responded, “Did you just send me a dick pic?” Since then, we’ve been texting back and forth. I’m trying not to get all swoony and invested, but how is that possible?

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