Aunt Cordelia
P.S. I’m sorry for the ominous letter and vague instructions. I was hoping to learn more, maybe come up with a solution, before uprooting your life.
What the fuck?
The town? Theentire townof Briarhollow?
Somehow, this family curse has gone from an abandoned inn to the wellbeing of an entire town. And in the same second, it became my problem to deal with.
Too focused on the letter, I don’t notice my mother walking up behind me until she snatches the paper from my hands. Hexate hisses at her, striking forward menacingly. I practically jump out of my skin and quickly release the letter not wanting it to rip. As my mother is distracted by that, I roll up the deed and slip it, along with the key, into the back waistband of my skirt.
With each word, I see her features morph into the disgusted anger that is only ever targeted toward me.
“What is this?” she sneers.
Idon’t offer an answer. We both understand the general message—leave my mother’s coven and go to the inn that has ruined my family line.
Her eyes meet mine, and it’s clear that I should not fight her if I know what’s good for me. Glancing down at the wooden spoon already in her hand, I bite my cheek and silently wait.
“You will not listen to the words of this crazy woman.” She takes a step toward me and points her spoon at my chest. “Do you hear me, Renata? There is nothing I can do about the powers you were given, but you are my daughter regardless. I’ve spent your entire life keeping you safe from that goddamn curse, and from flinging yourself off a cliff like the others.”
I flinch back at her harsh words, wondering if that’s how Cordelia actually died.
She takes another small step forward, seething more and more as the seconds tick by. “I will not allow you to throw it all away at the request of a woman you have never met.” She stops, catching her breath for a long moment. “Do you understand me?”
Without hesitation, I tell her, “I understand.”
And I do.
I understand that she has always, and will always, see me as a burden. As a mutation in our family line, like Cordelia. Just like the Gray Witch born under the Blackthorn name before her.
More than that, I understand that this coven may be where I have grown up, but it will never be my home.
She’s reluctant to believe my easy agreement, but chooses to not argue. Instead, she cruelly throws Cordelia’s letter into the fireplace and slips that godforsaken spoon back in her apron. I don’t exhale in relief until the kitchen door swings behind her.
Falling back against the counter, I hold my arm up and bring Hexate to my eye level.
“I can’t stay here another night, Hexate,” I whisper.
That letter—Cordelia’s acknowledgement and acceptance of me—ignited a fire deep in my soul I don’t want to put out. The spark was always there, a silent encouragement to pack a bag and start a small savings for myself. It never had the flint it needed to light. Watching the letter crumple and burn in the thick flames makes me more resentfulof my mother, taming some of the fear that’s been brewing since I was seven and she saw me accidentally resurrect a rat in the garden.
Each piece of ash that crumbles is another strike at the piece of flint where my heart is, usually cold and bitter.
Not today. Not anymore.
Hexate tilts her head in understanding and comfort. We can’t talk to each other—though I’m positive she can understand me. Our magical bond allows us to communicate through emotions. Her encouragement and protectiveness course through me, pushing back the lingering anxiety and ever-present sadness.
I have stayed because I had nowhere else to go.
But now I do.
For some crazy reason, a cursed inn sounds like just the place to run away to.
Chapter 2
Renata
Before I open my eyes, I sense I’m not where I hoped: the familiar meadow during sunset that I’m often brought to in my dreams. The one with tall grass that sways against my shins and the golden sunrays that warm my skin, where it’s always early summer. It’s the only place I ever see the man with the obscured face who finds me in my sleep and brings me more comfort than anyone else in my life—even if I can’t see him.
