“Because I belonged to all of you,” she confirms, and for a moment, her form flickers – I catch a glimpse of the squirrel superimposed over the woman, like a double exposure in an old photograph.
“But I thought you weremyfamiliar.” Rowan looks dejected.
“Come now, Rowan, did you ever truly believe that?” Gaia’s smile is gentle.
“But…then…” Dad’s face is a mask of confusion. “You’re immortal?”
“If I want to be.” Gaia shrugs. “Some of us are born with magic that transcends death. I guess I was just lucky. Or not,depending on your perspective. In any event, we live a long time. Just look at Evelyn. How old are you now, honey?” She looks at Gran, who waves a hand.
“It’s not polite to ask a lady her age.”
The magic in the garden surges, responding to her presence. Every plant, every stone seems to recognize her, bowing slightly in her direction.
“I don’t believe it,” Rowan whispers, but her voice holds wonder rather than doubt.
Gaia raises one elegant eyebrow, and with a casual flick of her wrist, she sends a cascade of golden sparkles through the air – Poppy’s signature move when she was showing off. The magic carries her distinct signature, unmistakable now that we know to look for it.
The light in Gaia’s eyes dims slightly as she settles onto the fountain’s edge, her otherworldly gown pooling around her feet. “I suppose you deserve the full story.”
Marcus’s arm tightens around my waist as Gaia’s magic fills the air with shimmering memories. I see flashes of a younger version of her, dancing with a handsome vampire at a medieval feast.
“His name was Xander. Alexander Grove,” she says, her voice carrying centuries of pain. “He promised me eternity, promised to turn me after our handfasting.” Her laugh is bitter, reminiscent of Poppy’s chattering. “Instead, I found him drinking from my sister on our wedding night.”
The memory shifts, showing her sister’s lifeless body, Xander’s bloodstained mouth, his cold smile. “He said immortality had shown him the truth – that witches were merely food, pets to be used and discarded.”
“The betrayal broke something in me,” Gaia continues, green eyes flashing. “So I broke something in return. I cursed him, cursed every vampire he made to slowly develop an allergy tohuman blood. They would need witch blood to survive, but only from my lineage – a constant reminder of his betrayal.”
“Just his line?” Mia asks. “The ones he made and the ones they made?”
Gaia nods.
“But why?” Rowan asks.
“Because I knew that as long as they carried a hint of his blood, they carried a piece of his betrayal. The potential to do it again. And I was right. Just look at Lucien. The epitome of it.”
“Lucien Marlowe had the Bloodbane?” Darick looks astonished.
“Why does that surprise you?” She cocks her head. “Could you think of another reason why he was obsessed with it? Why he wanted to manage the cure?”
“I thought there was no cure. That it could only be controlled…by drinking from us. Their matches.” Rowan is confused.
“Hmm…I guess you’re right.” Gaia gives a casual shrug. “Oh, well. Whatever.”
Soren is shaking his head, his expression thunderous. “My entire line is cursed with this affliction. My maker died to save us.”
“But not before he teamed up with a monster who caged witches like animals.” Gaia snorts. “Some might say it was good riddance.”
Soren makes a choked sound. “You’re not sorry at all, are you?”
“Sorry?” Gaia’s power crackles. “He murdered my sister, treated our love like a game. Hunted witches like animals. The curse was justice.”
I feel Marcus processing this, his thoughts a mix of understanding and wariness. Beside us, Rowan clutches Darick’s hand while Mia leans into Soren’s embrace.
“That’s a really awful thing to do, Gaia,” Mia says cautiously.
“Hey, I’m a witch, not an angel,” says Gaia.
“And you sure know how to hold a grudge,” Marcus mutters.
