Page 54 of Curses and Cauldrons

“Certainly, some eggs are rotten from the outset,” I snap back. I nearly clap a hand over my mouth. I have never talked back to anyone in my family. The shocked looks on their faces are almost worth it, but I’m terrified about how they’ll retaliate.

My mother steps up to my side, her hand landing on my forehead as though she’s feeling for a temperature. We both know that’s not the case. Pain ricochets from the top of my head down my body, setting every nerve ending on fire.

“Are you feeling well? You seem off.”

Selene watches my mother’s hand with an interested gaze. I’m not sure if she knows what my curse is. I’ve never told her, but that doesn’t mean my mother hasn’t.

Camille grabs my hand from the other side and my vision goes fuzzy at the edges. “Poor thing. You should take a moment. Go collect yourself.”

I stumble back, breaking away from their hold. The pain cuts off, but the aftereffects linger. My body feels like a guitar string that’s been plucked and left to vibrate.

“Yes. Thank you. I’ll do that.” I take a few more steps away before I’m willing to give them my back. Their laughter chases me into the hallway.

My head is pounding. I press my hand to my queasy stomach, hurrying to the closest bathroom. Once inside, I lock the door and splash water on my face, uncaring that my makeup might run. How is it possible for my life to have such huge swings? Being with Roman, I feel vibrant and adored. But in my own family home, I’m an outcast.

I stare at myself in the mirror, dabbing my face dry. The shadows under my eyes are even more pronounced now. This isn’t right. I know I need to take care of Penelope; hell, I’m the only one who looks out for her. But I can’t keep doing this. I need a plan to get myself and her out. How long will it be before my mom uses her magic on my little sister like she does with me?

Making an impulsive decision, I slip out of the bathroom and walk past the servers in the kitchen. They ignore me, except for a few side eyes. A tugging in my chest, where my magic lives, pulls me up the steps, reminding me of the night Roman trailed me to the library. More than I ever could’ve imagined changed that night.

Voices drift up from downstairs once I reach the hallway. I don’t know how long I have before someone realizes I’m not withthe rest of them. I doubt any of the guests will care. It might take a while, but my mother will notice my absence.

Inside the library, I head to the cabinet where our family's grimoire is kept. There’s a lock, but I discovered a magic spell ages ago for just such an occasion. Using my affinity with air, I push inside the lock. There’s a click as the mechanism shifts, and I carefully open the cabinet door.

The Delvaux grimoire has been combined by magic, marrying my mother’s and father’s family tomes into one. Magic hums around the book before I even touch it. When my fingers brush over the worn leather, there’s a familiar buzz. The book recognizes its family.

I hug it to my chest as I cross the room, clicking on a light on the table. I gently set the book down and open it to the first page, which is a sprawling family tree that leads back to the founding of Mystic Hollows. Laying my palm on the first page, I close my eyes.

Something urges me to call upon the triad, seeking out the fullness of magic that I’m beginning to suspect has been lost to us by just worshiping the Maiden. “Maiden, Mother, Crone, guide me.” I infuse the command with magic. I don’t know what I’m looking for, exactly; all I know is that my parents are keeping things from me. I’ve known for a long time, but I’m done closing my eyes and allowing them to hold me back.

There’s a swell of magic, glowing brighter in my chest than I’ve ever felt before. The paper flutters under my fingers, and I pick my hand up from the book. The pages flip as if a gust of wind has ripped through the room. Just as suddenly as the breeze appears, everything calms, and the book lays open. I peer down and frown when I see the spell that it’s landed on.

Siphoning magic.

There’s a list of ingredients and directions below that. The ink is old, but the margin holds newer notes in a differenthandwriting. They’re suggestions and tips for enhancing the potion. One says,best if consumed with a hot beverage. Another,your mark must consume at least three times a week. Preferably the entire week leading up to the new moon.

My stomach lurches. I press the back of my hand to my mouth to hold in my cry when I read the description of the spell.

A potion that, when ingested, will prepare the subject's magic to be siphoned off and transferred to another individual or group. For maximum potency, the ritual should be performed on the new moon. Bonds may impede the potency of the spell, making it difficult to properly draw magic from the witch.

My mother, my family, have been stealing my magic. Every day I drink the coffee my mother brings me. It’s the one kind thing she does for me, and it was a part of a spell. Every new moon, they’ve been sucking my power from me, siphoning my energy, and leaving me vulnerable until my magic regenerates. What if it didn’t? What if there was nothing left for me to give? At the last new moon ceremony, I could barely walk. It’s never been that bad before, but what if I can no longer rebound from this spell?

I can’t stay here. I need to think and that’s not possible in the presence of the very people who have been deceiving me. Using me. The way my family treats me is bad, but this is too much. The Lumen coven criticizes the Tenebris coven for their use of dark magic, but this just proves we are surrounded by hypocrites.

The page of the grimoire flips again to another spell. The wordspassage of the ancestral burdenare scrawled across the top. What’s that?

One of the boards in the hallway creaks, and I jerk my head toward the door. It’s open an inch. All it will take is someone peeking through the crack to find me here. Not that I shouldn’tbe able to read my family’s grimoire, but if they see what I’m looking at, that wouldn’t be good.

I flip the book closed just as Camille walks into the room.

28

ROMAN

Protests follow me as I leave the dining room. My skin feels too tight for my bones and flesh. The room is closing in on me. My magic simmers like a boiling cauldron ready to overflow. If I stay in that room, there’s a good chance I’ll suck the soul right out of Anastasia. Even without using my magic, I feel the taint of it, just being near her.

I came here with Bram, so it’s not like I can leave, but I need a minute to collect myself. For whatever reason, my ability to sense the souls of others has grown. My magic has gotten stronger lately, ever since that day Josephine walked through the hotel lobby.

The den is empty, and I close the door behind me with impressive restraint. With a flick of my hand, a fire whooshes to life in the fireplace. I don’t want the bright lights on overhead. I want to sit in the shadows and contemplate my life’s choices.

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