“Oh…” I didn’t have any other smart quips. “Happy holidays, Don,” was all I could come up with.
“See you in the new year,” he said as he lifted fully away from the bar and walked off, leaving me to wonder why I’d asked about my nickname.
It wasn’t like me to care, or at least admit it mattered. Mama would never allow me to pick who I might love; my magic was too powerful to share with a partner she didn’t choose. It was the reason she had me sequestered in a cottage on the property. And ultimately, why she let Bruno do what he wanted. His only resource was fire starting, and she’d hoped he’d marry a woman with deep powers. But now he was Rubia’s resident playboy.
Thinking about my brother had me looking up and catching him with his right arm around Prim and his left around the blonde. I tried to catch Prim’s eye, but she purposefully avoided me. I’d made it clear over the years that I wouldn’t help her if she fell for Bruno—something she never paid any mind to.
Deep in thought, I didn’t notice my mother saunter up on the other side of me.
“He’s shameful,” she said, and I didn’t have to pull my head up a second time to know who she meant.
“This night, it’s never a happy one for him,” I reminded Mama, mimicking Prim.
“Meet my eye, Tuvy,” she responded.
I turned to the side and met her gaze. Since I’d turned sixteen, Mama had this hang-up about meeting someone dead-on when talking with them. It yielded a different kind of influence, to letthem know you were in charge. She was well practiced at the task.
I met Mama’s gaze and spoke again. “It’s this night,” I repeated. “You and I know better than anyone it’s not a happy one.” It had been—I counted in my head—fifteen years, and Bruno still hated the Christmas party. Then there was poor Mama, who lived in a betwixt-and-between place of being pleased over my coming into my potential, and staying mad at Shelby for ruining Bruno.
“This night has remained joyful ever since then. No one would dare ruin my holiday party ever again.” She ran a hand over her smooth auburn hair, straightened and silky. For her late fifties, she didn’t look it in her cobalt blue gown, accentuating every fit curve. Some said it was her daily running with the animals, others believed it was surgery.
“No one would. That’s true.” Maybe that was the one small reason why I enjoyed this night every year; I was guaranteed not to be called upon.
“I don’t like your friend hanging on him,” Mama said sternly about Prim.
“I can’t control her, and neither can you.” If there was one thing my mother despised, it was being reminded that her ability to control and change minds only reached as far as animals. Although she had been honing her most recently gifted power, and quite frankly it was something I never wanted to experience. I could only imagine if she’d had themagic ball capability when Shelby had hitched herself to my brother.
Lord knew she’d tried to influence Shelby long before the failed engagement.
“I expect you to have a word with her” was Mama’s only response before walking away.
After a long breath, I turned and ordered one final glass of bubbly before retreating to my cottage, alone.
Tulya
My smallish house on the outskirts of my family’s property was my refuge. On sunny days, I took solace in staring at the magnificently appointed stones lining the façade. On cold nights, I relished in my claw-foot tub.
I’d only left the party ninety minutes ago, so when the frantic knocking came as I slid into my bath filled with hot water and bubbles, disappointment blanketed my heart.Bam, bam, bamrang steadily from the large wooden door at the front of my house, followed by, “Tuvy!”
Closing my eyes, I took a deep breath and gently stepped out of the tub, my hair in a messy bun on top of my head and suds dripping from my legs. Not bothering to towel off when the third set ofbamscame, I dragged on my heavy robe and padded to the door. Sometimes I wished I could find sanctuary off my family’s property.
Not bothering to ask who it was—I’d heard my mother chanting my name—I swung it open.
Mama, Ceci, Cinder, and Donovan rushed in from the snow, not bothering to be welcomed inside and ignoring my being in a robe, still half wet. Their comfort was more important than mine.
“Tuvy, we need your help,” Ceci said, grabbing my hand. “Aaack, you’re cold. Donovan, build a fire, will you?”
“It’s not necessary.” Confused by her sudden worrying about me, I tried to argue but the man was already down on his knees, stacking wood in the hearth. I granted myself a second to take in his back pulling on his suit, imagining the broad muscles under the fabric.
“Tuvyyyy,” Cinder cried, and I finally noted she was wearing a heavy jacket and there was makeup smeared across her face.
“What’s wrong, Cin?” I asked the question already knowing: as soon as I’d turned toward her, the sweat began to bead at my neck.
She needed my help.
“I’m sorry” was all I said when Cinder didn’t respond. Narrowing the gap between us, I began to lift my fingers toward her jacket. She’d have to take it off and let me touch her bare skin. Over the years, I’d found my force worked better skin-to-skin.
A fire roared to life in my living area, and Donovan stood and stated, “Don’t be sorry. Be vengeful, Tulya.” He stared at me with the same green eyes that had enchanted me earlier. “I need to ask you a question.”
