Page 84 of Curses and Cauldrons

I step in front of Penelope. “Me? You’re asking what I’ve done, when you are the ones who trapped me and performed a spell on me?”

Her eyes burn with hatred. She clasps my chin in her freezing fingers, her nails digging into my skin. But instead of pain searing through me, she screams and snatches her hand back.

Her breaths come out in ragged pants. “Why aren’t you screaming in pain? Why aren’t you writhing on the floor like a bug, begging for mercy?” My mother’s eyes are wide. “What is this pain? Camille,” she snaps at my sister. “Touch her.”

Camille smirks at me, taking a wobbling step forward. For the first time in years, I don’t flinch. I’m not even worried. I hold out my hand. Camille’s mouth flattens. She slaps her hand in mine, and then screams in pain, pulling away so fast that she falls on her ass.

I reach behind me and find Penelope’s hand, squeezing her fingers when she tries to pull away with a gasp. “Jo?”

“It’s okay.” My words are wobbly as I tug my sister to my side.

“What is this madness?” my father yells.

“My curse is broken,” I pronounce, knowing the truth of my words even if I have no idea how. “It was broken before Camille did her failed spell.”

“Impossible.” Spittle flies from my mother’s mouth, her hair uncharacteristically disheveled. The veins under her eyes are more pronounced than usual. She’s a mess. Camille slumps tothe side as the price of all that magic hits her. She’s limp on the floor, completely drained. Now she knows what it feels like.

There’s a second of uncertainty, and then my mother appears to come to a decision. “We’ll just have to find new ways to punish you, then.” She turns to my father. “Grab Penelope.”

“No,” I shout, shoving Pen behind me again.

She slaps me so hard, I stumble back, but she shrieks at the pain from the contact and I can’t help but laugh.

“Not only did your spell fail, but it looks like you’ve been given my curse.”

My mother’s eyes widen as she stares at my hand. She snatches my fingers in her own, tugging it toward her face before dropping it with a frustrated cry.

“What is that?” she snarls.

There are two dark vines twined together that circle my finger. It has a warmth that pulses from it. That’s what I was feeling earlier. “That is none of your business.”

My father is looking on in confusion. My mother’s narrowed glance tells me she knows more than him. “How? That is a bonding mark. A fated mark. Impossible. No one in our coven has ever received one of these.”

My mother snarls and lunges for me, but freezes as the room grows darker. Shadows creep across the floor and climb the walls. One torch is snuffed out and then another.

“Probably because you’re all a bunch of self-serving bastards who choose power and wealth over love.” Roman’s commanding voice cuts through the dim room and joy dances under my skin. He’s okay. He’s here. “You’re going to back away from Josephine and Penelope.”

“What is the meaning of this?” my father shouts, his face pale and his normally perfect hair a wild mess. “This is sacred coven business. Dark witches aren’t allowed in our sanctuary.”

Roman, Bram, Ava, Stellan, and Odie stand in a line of pissed off witches. Piper is quietly crying behind them, and Ambrose has an arm slung around her shoulder. She must be disoriented because she’s accepting the support without the slightest bit of self-consciousness.

“We’re just looking to get the band back together.” Ambrose grins, his golden smile bright even in the shadows.

“What?” Francesca snaps.

“You know, how we all used to be one big, happy coven. Before we broke up to keep the truth of our curses a secret and all that jazz.” Ambrose holds up a finger and turns to look at Stellan. “Wait, I wasn’t supposed to know that, was I? Oh well, I’m horrible with secrets.”

Stellan slowly nods, all the while glaring at my family. “That’s the story I recall.”

“Regardless, you have no right to be here.” My mother smooths back her hair, putting everything back in its place. Only to gasp for breath and rake her nails against her chest as a low growl rumbles from Roman’s throat.

He takes the stairs down to me, moving in slow, measured steps. His dark hair is messy, his shirt untucked. Despite the unusual, disheveled appearance, the awe-inspiring strength and dark magic that sits just below the surface lets everyone know this man is dangerous.

The shadows grow thicker. My mother falls to her knees, clutching her chest. Is she having a heart attack? I pull Penelope into a hug that I’ve wanted to give for nine years. I sniff and blow out a shaky breath. There will be time to break down later.

The rest of our friends watch and wait behind us, ready to jump in if need be.

My mother scratches at her throat, her eyes bulging.

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