Page 4 of Curses and Cauldrons

I lick my dry lips. Young witches don’t typically attend the founders parties until after their sixteenth birthday. I try very hard to keep Penelope away from my mother’s magical machinations. My mother is cruel, manipulative, and very good at putting on a public persona as a leader in our coven. It breaks my heart to think of how she mentally abuses Penelope, and I do everything in my power to redirect that behavior to me instead. The woman is excellent at using my youngest sister as a bargaining chip. Especially when she thinks I need a reminder about who controls my life.

“No, of course. You’re right.”

A hard, rapid knock on the door vibrates against my back. I seize the opportunity to get off the phone. “Someone is at my door, Mother. I need to go. I’ll see you tonight.”

“Don’t be late. Don’t wear your hair down. You look like a jezebel–”

“–See you soon,” I cut her off and hang up. I’m sure I’ll pay for that later, but I don’t have the energy to listen to her listing more of my faults right now.

The knocking starts up again, and I turn to peer out of the peephole. Avalon Vandenberg, one of my oldest friends and a fellow member of one of the founding families of Mystic Hollows, is the one doing all the banging.

Before the door is open more than an inch, Ava pushes her way inside my apartment. Her face is red and tear streaked. She’s holding her cell phone like she’s going to crush it.

“Ava. Are you okay?”

“I’m going to kill him.” Ava stares straight ahead, rage glimmering in her brown eyes.

I pinch the sleeve of her suit and drag her over to the couch. Ava looks like she’s just come from work. She’s dressed in asomewhat frumpy pantsuit and a beige button-down blouse. Her light brown hair has been pulled into a bun at the base of her neck, and her make-up was probably fresh hours ago, but now she just looks tired.

“Who are you going to kill?”

Ava’s still staring into space. I’m not sure she even realizes I’m here.

“Wasted two years. No, he stole two years. He’s a fucking time thief.”

Ava still isn’t making sense or acknowledging me. I send a quick text to her brother and gnaw on the inside of my lip. Ava and I grew up together. Along with her twin brother Stellan and our friend Piper. The four of us have always been outcasts, the perpetual disappointments of our family. In a small town like Mystic Hollows, where coven events continuously brought us together, we naturally drifted toward one another. I don’t know how I would have survived all these years without the three of them in my corner.

I grit my teeth and place a hand on Ava’s shoulder, squeezing lightly. Pain zips from my fingers, but it’s not as bad through layers of clothing. Skin on skin hurts so much worse. My curse means that any touch, even one given out of kindness or love, brings me horrible pain.

“Ava, what’s going on?” There’s a rasp to my voice. Today has already been a long day, and it’s barely halfway over. I’ve spent hours touching people, my body one giant ache. It’s another way my mother controls me. Keeping me eternally wiped out and in pain. All so she can make money and, ironically, brag about my healing magic to the coven. I don’t care about any of that because my friend is hurting, and touch is important.

Ava turns her head toward me, pulling away so abruptly from my hand that she nearly falls off the couch.

“Jo! Why would you touch me?” A strand of hair flops in her face. She sticks out her bottom lip and huffs it away.

“I was afraid you were catatonic.” A little color has returned to her cheeks. She wraps her arms around her stomach and frowns at her knees.

The apartment door bangs open. Stellan and Piper rush in side by side, looking like a mismatched pair. Stellan got all the height of the twins at six-four, while Ava’s a complete foot shorter than him. Stellan’s got a hot lumberjack thing going on with messy dark brown hair and a full beard that has way more red in it than the strands on his head. He looks like he could carve you up with a giant bowie knife but has the soft interior of a marshmallow for those he cares about.

Piper, on the other hand, has the body of a vixen but is so painfully shy that she barely spoke a handful of words to any of us the first few years we knew her. She’s overcome a lot of that shyness with us, but as soon as she’s back with her family, it’s like watching a flower wilt. Her hair is a fiery red that hints at a fierce temper that doesn’t exist. The smattering of freckles across her nose makes her appear sweet, which is a much more accurate description.

Stellan always walks like he’s facing down a threat. Right now is no different. He storms into the apartment and heads straight for Ava. He stands over her with his hands on his hips. What I can see of his mouth is pressed into a straight line, and his forehead is creased with concern. He reaches out and drops a hand on Ava’s head. “Who am I killing, little sister?”

“You’re the little brother. I’m older,” Ava grumbles. Because of the fucked-up nature of our curses, Ava is the unlucky one of the twins. Stellan dodged that bullet by a stroke of fate.

“Only by three minutes. And by little, I mean your height. How did you end up so shrimpy?”

Ava sticks out her tongue with an exasperated sound and swats Stellan’s hand away. “You called in the cavalry?” She sends an accusing glare my way.

I open my mouth and shut it with a shrug. “You weren’t making any sense.”

Piper rounds the couch and sits on the edge of a barrel chair, keeping completely still. She’s perfectly proper and as unmoving as a statue.

“What happened, Ava?” Piper’s eyes are a vivid blue and they’re currently filled with concern.

Ava sighs, her chin trembling as she swallows with an audible gulp. “I got home from work early today because I needed to start getting ready for the stupid fucking founders parties.” We all nod and grimace in agreement. Does anyone in this town enjoy these parties?

“Jamie was already home, which is weird because he’s never off work this early.”

---