Page 79 of Charmed

The last image was of Kaida, tucked to Brady’s side on a bench in a lighthouse observation deck, contented and joyful. Satisfied. Obviously at peace. The gray-blue sea was behind them, around them, white-capped waves crashing against a rocky shore. Her lips moved, but it was Celeste’s calm voice and Irish brogue that spoke. “I wouldn’t take it back, any of it, not one moment with you.” As the last word was uttered, Kaida and Brady morphed, rippled, and Fiona was thrust back to the beginning with Celeste and Finn in the meadow. “It’ll all be worth it someday. I promise.”

Oxygen inflated Fiona’s lungs in a rush. Painful and with force. She opened her eyes, panting, and found herself laying sideways on the wooden floor planks of her workshop. Crickets chirped and stars poked through the now full night sky.

Shoot. How long had she been out?

Panic clutching her throat, she sat up and reached in her back pocket for her phone.

No missed calls or texts. And thank Goddess, it was only ten o’clock.

She was supposed to be meeting the Minister at midnight. The others, according to their plan, were to head to the cove by nine to be in place long before he showed up. She shot off a quick group text to be certain they’d made it with no issue.

Rising, she stretched her neck as Tristan replied with a thumb’s up emoji.

Okay, good. They were safe. For now. She just had to do her part, and hope nothing went sideways.

A sigh, and she stared at her screen, finishing the last of her now cold tea, wondering if she should text Riley. Say she was sorry. See if he was holding up all right. Gauge how he was feeling. But that would be more cowardly than her behavior after they’d made love. She could admit that much.

Aunt Mara had been correct. Fiona needed to be brave and not just put up a front. How to do that, though, when true love, the lasting kind, had never been obtainable? Wasn’t that kinda like listening for a train, then jumping on the tracks as it approached?

Celeste’s words from Fiona’s vision slammed to the forefront of her thoughts. As if purposely planted there. It’ll all be worth it someday. I promise. The witch had been talking to Finn, not Fiona, yet she couldn’t help but think that particular memory was shown to her for a reason. Along with the past visions of her kin. That they’d, despite knowing the history and how things would turn out, chose to make the blind leap anyway. All of them had seemed to prefer love, no matter the duration allowed. A short blip of bliss, even if it left a lifetime of pain in its wake.

I wouldn’t take it back, any of it, not one moment with you.

Fiona and her sisters, Riley and his brothers, were the first generation in almost three-hundred years to be able to do something about the morbid outcome that had plagued their bloodlines. They genuinely were the only ones who could and should have a shred of hope. As foretold, they’ll finally take action and alter the course.

She thought about Riley, their moments together. Dissected every snippet, emotion, and played the what-if game in her head. She closed her eyes and exhaled. Truly, her conclusions were no surprise. She’d merely been too blind to want to see.

If they hadn’t been one of the fated six, if they had simply been just another generation of Meath-Galloways with a curse looming over them, she would’ve made the same decisions. Even if she’d had irrefutable proof it would end and misery would follow all her days afterward, she’d have done it regardless.

Truthfully, she would’ve loved Riley, would’ve chosen any short spance with him over a lifetime of not knowing how wonderful it could be. Handsome, hilarious, honest Riley Meath, who’d put up with her shit, day after day, hour after hour, minute after minute. Because he was in love with her. Stubborn as her, smarter than her, and ten times more courageous. He loved her despite how many instances she’d resisted or dodged or involuntarily hurt him. He’d always been the hero in their fairy tale.

And it was time she saved him for once. Picked him. Chose their love over fear.

She shot off a text to him. You are braver than me, but we’ll get through this. You have my word.

After all their trials, she wasn’t going to utter the words to him through a cell phone. She’d tell him she loved him later. In person. For now, she had to…

Blue light shimmered from her inner wrist, where the black trinity knot tattoo had been branded but a month ago. She stared at it in confusion, in awe, holding her breath.

It slowly disappeared. Poof.

She expelled a gale force wind from her lungs, her hand shaking. She’d done it. Her part. She’d completed her task.

Glancing away, she stared across the room, vision unfocused. Had Riley completed his end? He’d professed his love first. Had taken the leap of… What was it Celeste had said in her hint? Not letting anger cloud his judgement and realizing he wasn’t alone, that leaning on others was strength.

Back in his bedroom, he had seemed resolved. Sure of himself. Weary but confident. He’d left the ball in her court and had proverbially thrown his hands up like he’d been…surrendering. As if he’d known his heart, his mind, his purpose, and there was nothing left for him to do but wait on her to do the same.

She huffed a laugh, closing her eyes. Yeah, his mark was probably gone also.

Which meant that their duty in breaking the curse had been accomplished. This very second, a box was waiting for them in the old cottage, having appeared from another plane where Celeste had hidden it. Just like it had for Kaida and Brady when they’d succeeded in completed their task. A box that had held a ring from Celeste’s homeland of Ireland and the first section of a power-of-three spell to reverse what had been done.

It was both a relief and anxiety-laden for Fiona because all she wanted to do was rush to Riley, to the cottage, and rejoice. Relish in their triumph. But curse-breaking and destiny were three-quarters their battle. There was still the Minister to deal with. That jerk had been two steps ahead of them from the start. If they didn’t, Ceara and Tristan, who were next, could fail.

There was this constant nagging, raising the hairs on Fiona’s nape, that the Minister knew something they didn’t. That fixing the curse wasn’t as simple or complicated as accomplishing tasks set forth.

Fiona scanned her potion bottles on the shelves, narrowing her eyes, trying to account for all the things that bastard could attempt to pull on her tonight. Grabbing a vial, she rushed from the room. Upstairs, she changed into a pair of skinny jeans and a loose purple tank top, then stepped into a pair of sneakers. Best she was comfortable and able to move freely. Tying her hair back in a ponytail, she descended the steps and climbed in her car.

After sending a group text to the others that she was on her way, she headed toward the cove, silently calling upon Goddess for protection.

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