Page 77 of Hexes and Exes

“Set what up?” There’s a dull ringing in my ears. My shadows are restless under my skin and my curse is waking up, humming with hunger.

“The fire. What she did to Roman. Your parents knew. They worked together.”

Misery and pain pour off Giana and my curse sucks in the negative emotions, feeding the darkness inside me until the rational part of me is squeezed tight.

“Why would they do that?”

Giana shakes her head. “Something about children. I don’t know. I was afraid they’d catch me.” She reaches out to touch my hand, but I snatch it away. I don’t want to be coddled or pitied.

I push away from the island and stand, unmoving, for a moment while thoughts of what this means try to coalesce in my brain. Children. Anastasia kidnapping Roman. My house burning down. The curse. The ritual. They’re all connected.

Well, actually, the burning of my house was just a distraction. One likely sanctioned by my father. Roman is thirty-two. If he doesn’t have a child by thirty-five, does that mean his cursewill rebound onto his parents? Is this all about controlling the fucking curses?

I’m dazed as I walk out of the kitchen. So much so that I nearly don’t hear my father coming into the foyer. I slip back into the darkened hallway. I’m not in the mood to talk to him or interact with Diana in any way. But it’s the third person who really makes me frown.

“I’m ruined. No magic has worked.” Anastasia’s voice is weepy, her breaths choppy as she points to her chest. I barely smother my chuckle. Anastasia tried to sexually assault my brother. He repaid her actions by magically branding her chest with the word “predator.” He used his soul magic to drag the mark out from inside her. I highly doubt she’ll figure out a way to be rid of it.

“It’s a small price to pay. I know you want power.” My father dismisses her moans.

“I want what was promised.” She stomps her foot like a bratty child. “You told me Roman would be mine. Now he’s with that pathetic light witch. I did my part, now you owe me.”

“I think you’ve gotten exactly what you deserve.” I step out of the shadows, my curse burning through my veins. I want to shred, to devastate, to leave nothing but an unrecognizable scrap of a human behind.

Anastasia and my father both turn around with shock on their faces.

“Anastasia, give my regards to your parents.” My father opens the door and gestures for her to leave. Anastasia nearly protests, but scampers out when she takes another look at my face.

My father’s chin lifts as he closes the door. “Abraham. What are you doing here?”

“Why am I cursed when my mother died from her curse?” There’s an inherent threat in my words, even though they’re lowand steady. I lean my shoulder against the elegantly wallpapered walls. Diana just redid them last year, saying the house was growing stale.

“What nonsense are you talking about?” My father scoffs and takes a step away, as if he’s about to leave me standing here. I slide in front of him, cutting him off from escape. Vincent is over six feet, but he’s not as tall as me. I cross my arms and glare down at him.

“The ritual. Is that what you call it? Does it have a special name? The fuck over the next generation spell? Or maybe the I’m a horrible fucking person potion?”

My dad shuffles back, but I don’t ease up and close up the space. “You know, the one you did to ensure that your curse was lifted, and your child was forced to suffer instead?”

My father’s jaw tightens. “I did my time with the family curse. It’s only fair.”

“Fair? To put that burden on a child.” Incredulity drips from my words. How have they convinced themselves this is okay? I can’t imagine. What if I got Ava pregnant and we accidentally passed this curse onto our child, even if we didn’t do the ritual? It happened with my mother. It could happen again. I need to know why, and how.

“Please. Roman was sixteen when his curse kicked in. Hardly a child.”

“He wasn’t an adult. And he didn’t deserve his curse. I don’t deserve mine.”

Vincent stumbles back another step, his back hitting the door. “None of us deserved the curse. It was that stupid Briar bitch.”

I shake my head and a low, unhappy laugh escapes. Nearly four centuries later and we’re still blaming a woman for wanting to live her own life. The consequences of her curse are what happens when you play with fire.

“How does the ritual work?”

My father’s mouth bends in a sour line. His nostrils flare as he sucks in a breath. “There is no ritual.”

“You just admitted you did it. That you cursed me and Roman.”

“How is that possible? It’s only the firstborn who are cursed. You aren’t my firstborn. Perhaps you should look at your worthless mother’s history before blaming me for her mistakes.”

I roar, my anger a living pulse under my skin. My shadows explode from my body, but my magic is not unique. The shadows are a Blackthorn family inheritance. Although, mine work differently to both Roman’s and my father’s. While Roman can suck the very soul of a person and leave them a husk, my father can use his shadows to control others.

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