The memories whip through my mind. The way we stood just like this as she granted me protection, and I made her take a vow of secrecy when I told her everything Silas told me. There’s a vision of going to New Orleans and making my mother regainher memories, of admitting what I am at the table to everyone. I gasp as that memory flies by. The last memory is of my grand-mère telling them that it’s too late, that I’m perfect now.
I pull back, my eyes wide as I look at her. I can tell her memories are real, but I don’t feel them myself. I have no memories of any of that happening. I glance over to the woman who’s my mother, who gives me a tear-filled smile.
“Will you let us bring your memories back?” she says.
I look back over at Iris. “This isn’t some big trick?” I ask her, and she shakes her head.
“Let us try and I’ll give you your wand back,” the woman—my mother—says.
If I wasn’t already motivated, that definitely pushed me over the edge as I sit on the floor, the three witches surrounding me. I take a few deep breaths as they chant, and I try to believe in what they’re telling me.
They chant the same words repeatedly, the same ones from Iris’ memory, but I don’t feel any different.
Suddenly, a memory fills me. It flashes by so quick I almost miss it.
“I’d be the best husband, and you know it. We’d be one of those couples who wanted to spend all of our time together. You wouldn’t be able to resist me. Honestly, the more I think about it, the sillier this pact is, because I think I’m going to convince you to marry me well before then anyway, Violet.”
The voice isn’t as deep as the one from the man in my bedroom, but yet, I can tell that it’s him. It’s hard to picture where we are, but I can hear his voice clear as day. As soon as the memory comes, I notice the chanting has stopped, and three concerned faces are staring down at me.
“The damage she caused in your memories is more vast than I realized. I think we’ll need the entirety of the coven,” my mother says and I look over at Ember, who is openly crying.
“Oh, Ember,” Iris says and Ember shakes her head, her wild strawberry blonde hair landing around her face.
“She was just so happy. I can’t believe she would take that away.”
“I was?” I ask.
Ember sits down on the floor, her bare knees hitting the wood as she cups my cheeks.
“You were. He makes you really happy, Violet. You were doing everything you could to make things right with the coven and the other supernaturals. You’re our best friend. I love you. I just want you to be you again,” she says.
I can’t help but to wrap my arms around her, as guilt consumes me. I care for Ember; I know that’s true. But I don’t feel the same way as she does, and I know it’s wrong.
They aren’t lying. Something is wrong with me.
“When can the coven convene?” I ask, holding back my emotions. They don’t need to know these conflicting feelings going on in my mind. Once we have the power of the whole coven, this will all be a distant memory… right?
“The full moon,” my mother says. “We’re going to need all the help we can get.”
I sigh in agreement as I look down at the floor where the two cats are sussing each other out. “This is my familiar, Marie. I didn’t think she’d be able to find me after this time,” my mother says lovingly and I look down at the cat, not feeling anything.
“Beautiful,”Walter says, nuzzling his head against the unfamiliar cat, but I suppose everything is somewhat unfamiliar right now. “Can we keep her?” my crotchety familiar nearly begs.
The multi-colored cat bats him across the face and Walter looks startled.
My mother laughs and I stand there, feeling completely out of place.
“I think I’m in love,”Walter says, the other cat sits primly, turning her head and ignoring him.
Days pass and I still feel indifferent to everyone around me. Deep down, I know I have feelings for these people, but there’s a wrongness I can’t shake.
I stare out the window.
Silas is back. Well, I suppose he barely leaves. He’s either in my backyard chopping wood to build Hecate knows what in my backyard, or he’s pacing around in wolf form. His presence is never ending and feels like a guillotine over my head.
I catch him glancing at the house every now and then, hopefully staring at the purple monstrosity like I’ll wake up and everything will be back to normal.
He seems sad and pissed off every time he swings the axe on a new piece of wood.
