Page 56 of Curses and Cauldrons

“You’ll be rid of your curse. Don’t you want that?” Vincent finally comes to a stop, blowing out a noisy breath as his hands land on his hips.

“How?” I repeat. My voice is only just steady, and I work to keep every emotion off my face.

“That’s not a conversation for today. But you will put this family first and you will do your duty.”

The whoosh of my heart is thundering in my ears. The heat of the fire is too much. I snuff it out by closing my fist. “And if I don’t?”

My father sneers at me, and drags a hand through his hair. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so disheveled. “Then you will be the ruin of the Blackthorn family.”

There’s something he’s not telling me. My father won’t meet my eyes, and his cagey expression tells me I won’t get anything else out of him tonight. I walk past him without another word. His spluttered demands for me to come back chase me into the hallway. I don’t stop until I reach the dining room, pushing open the doors with more force than necessary.

“Bram. Time to go.”

Bram pushes back his chair so quickly it topples to the ground. He looks around the room before nodding his head to the woman who’d been sitting next to him.

“I appreciate the offer to bang me if I can get you aninwith the legitimate Blackthorn heir, but Ambrose already told me you were a lousy lay.”

The room gasps in horror. I don’t want to laugh because I’m so fucking pissed, but a small smile still finds its way to my face.

“Where are you going?” My mother jumps up from her seat, but she hasn’t moved her chair. She’s momentarily stuck, and it’s long enough for Bram to reach my side. That doesn’t stop herfrom shouting at us. Cursing out Bram in one breath and calling after me about my duty in the next.

Giana is waiting with bags of leftovers for us near the front door.

“Enjoy, boys.” She winks and quickly ushers us outside before my mother comes running.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m happy to be out of there, but what brought this on?” Bram is already digging into his bag, extracting a roll, and shoving half of it in his mouth as he gets in the car.

“Dear Old Dad just can’t stop pushing for me to do my familial duty.”

29

JOSEPHINE

Camille slowly saunters in, her fingers trailing over the spines of books as she makes her way toward me.

“Mother’s missing you at dinner.” Camille’s eyes flicker down to the grimoire. I pull my hands away, clasping them in front of me.

My sister’s dark hair has been pinned so that it falls in soft waves over one shoulder. Her dress is slightly less Stepford than mine, but still a throwback to cocktail parties of the sixties. I think my mom believes those were better times, which blows my mind because she’s power hungry. Why would she want to go back to the days when women’s voices mattered even less than they do now? I suppose that’s just another of her delusions. She sees the world a specific way and isn’t willing to look at it from a different perspective.

My sisters and I clearly share the same genetic pool, although Camille and Pen don’t have the unhealthy pallor that often strikes me. Mostly because Camille never uses her healing magic. Penelope does, but I’m very careful not to let mother useher. And when I’m with my youngest sister, I only allow her to do so much.

“What are you doing?” Camille pulls a book off the shelf and begins flipping through the pages. She’s not looking at it, though. Her eyes are focused on me.

“I was searching for a spell to help boost my energy.” I think quickly on my feet. “I’ve been so tired lately. I was hoping there might be something in the grimoire that could help.”

Camille snaps the book shut and tosses it onto a nearby table. She smiles, but it’s not kind. With a sigh, she crosses the room until she stops across the desk from me. She reaches for the grimoire, turning it to face her. She opens the book and begins slowly turning the pages.

“It seems like you’re forgetting your place a lot lately.”

“What do you mean?” I may be older than Camille, but she has my mother’s cruelty. It’s intimidating despite her age.

“You left your phone in your locker the other day, did you know?” She trails her finger down a list of spell ingredients before she flips to the next page.

My brows pinch. “At work?” I always have my phone in my locker when I’m with a client.

Camille’s eyes lift, and she stares at me. Her head is still bowed, and it gives her a sinister appearance. “It seems you’ve made a new friend.”

“Did you go through my phone?” My pulse speeds up. Roman and I haven’t spoken about our families through text, but that doesn’t mean I want her rooting around in our conversations. The back and forth of us getting to know each other. It’s private. It’s personal. It’s something that only belongs to me and Roman. Camille has no right to read through those messages.

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