Page 55 of Curses and Cauldrons

The den has two wingback chairs angled in front of the fireplace, a matching leather couch pushed against the far wall, and a massive cherry desk that sits in front of a bank of windows. I push back the dark brocade curtains and peer out into thenight. It’s too dark to see the manicured lawn, but the twinkle of lights across the river on the Lumen side of Mystic Hollows beckons me. I should leave and go find Josephine. Take her from what I imagine is a similarly terrible Thanksgiving.

“Ah, there you are.” My father enters the room, switching on the lights. I sigh, but keep my eyes trained across the river. Not that I can see Josephine’s parents’ house, but I don't particularly care to give my father my full attention.

“Your mother asked me to come get you.”

Vincent Blackthorn is a cold man. His foremost concern is himself. His wife and children have only ever been a necessary inconvenience. Us Blackthorns must continue the line. As if we’re fucking royalty. Perhaps, in my father’s mind, we are, but I have some unsettling news for him. Royalty is a hoax.

“I find I’ve lost my appetite. Getting fondled and unwanted advances tends to do that to a person.”

My father scoffs, and I turn to look at him. Vincent is in his late fifties and is still a handsome man. His dark hair is more salt and pepper these days, but there’s still a full head of it. He works out daily and has the trim physique to show it. He’s wealthy, entitled, and believes the world should kiss his ass.

“What kind of man would be upset that a beautiful woman is touching him?”

“One who believes in consent,” I volley back.

“An invention of the youth. You can tell a woman wants you by the way she cocks her head or bats her eyes at you. And don’t tell me any man with the option of a good lay on the table would turn that down.”

“I suppose if you have no standards.” I shrug. Vincent glares at me and then clears his throat, stepping farther into the den. Not to mention I can’t even sense the woman’s touch. Regardless, I would never touch Anastasia even if she was theonly person I could feel. Thank the Maiden, Mother, and Crone she’s not the one who quells my curse.

My father probably wouldn’t even think about that, though. His curse was something entirely different to mine. He’s never specifically told me what it was, only that I really got screwed and he was glad he’d never had to deal with such a shitty hex. He’s very sympathetic.

“I didn’t come here to debate nonsense, PC bullshit. But I do have something that your mother and I have been meaning to share with you.” My father loosens his tie and undoes the top button of his shirt.

“It’s time for you to marry, son.”

I cross my arms and lean against the bookshelf filled with decorative yet empty books. The kind used to store things instead of holding actual words.

“Yes. Mother has been quite insistent on the matter. I have to say, I’m not all that interested in getting married right now.”

A small twinge of something bites at my subconscious. Maybe interested isn’t the right word. It’s that I’m not interested in marrying the people that my mother wants to tie me to.

“Well, alliances are important. Ensuring a strong line of magic continues for the Blackthorn name is part of your duty as one of the founding family heirs.” My father hesitates, pulling at his collar again and clearing his throat. The man does not fidget, so why is he so nervous right now?

“There is more to this than you are aware of,” he says slowly. “And frankly, if you ask me, I don’t care if you get married. But you do need to have a child.”

“If I wasn’t interested in getting married, what makes you think I’m ready for children?” I watch a bead of sweat gather on my father’s temple. Sure, the fire is crackling in the room, but my father is nowhere near it, and it’s not putting off enough heat to make him sweat.

“You see, this is the way it has always been done. There’s traditions to be upheld. We are important pillars of our coven and this community.”

Vincent is saying a lot of bullshit without actually spitting out what he wants. I don’t help him. I let him flounder in his babbled words. My other option is going back to the dining room and having Anastasia attempt to give me a hand job while my parents eat turkey twenty feet away.

“You cannot consider this a bad thing for your future children. You have done your time, and now they will do theirs.”

This sentence has me stiffening. What’s he talking about?

“It’s important for you to have a child. One, at the very least, so that you can pass on your curse.” He spits the words out so quickly that I’m not sure I heard them correctly.

I cock my head as if that might change what he just said. It takes me a few tries to form a sentence because I’m not exactly sure what I’m asking. “Why would I want to pass on my curse? Wouldn’t it be preferable to end the curse with me?”

“That’s not how this works,” my father snaps, finally giving in and yanking his tie off completely. He tosses it onto a chair and starts pacing.

I press my shoulders harder into the bookshelf, wishing I could feel the bite of wood into my flesh. I pinch my bicep through my suit, but there’s no feeling. I keep my voice calm, trying not to let him see how much I want this information. “How does it work?”

“It’s a rite of passage. Coming of age and all that.” My father keeps making gestures like he’s a politician who’s been told to add movement to his speech but doesn’t know how to answer a question.

“You see, it’s important for you to continue the family line. We must carry on the Blackthorn name. The next generation ensures we remain powerful.”

My eyes narrow at that, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. “How?”

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