I got it. Well, I was trying to get it, at least. I knew she and he had this crazy intense bond. That they’d spent a thousand years waiting for each other. And that longing only got more intense every time they were reincarnated. And of course, this time they were in the bodies of horny teenagers. I mean, they spent every free moment they could staring at each other with these big swoony eyes that would have made an anime chick jealous. It would have been entertaining to see big badass Brendan Salinger this devoted to someone if it hadn’t had to be my friend.
I was desperately trying to not begrudge her happiness. I just wished Emma would take her natural witch duties seriously!
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she was packing would do well to study up on the craft. Same went for Brendan. If I remembered correctly—and with my photographic memory, I did remember correctly, thank you very much—his wealth, his strength, hell, even his looks, were the direct result of that witch’s curse. Archer wanted to be reincarnated into Sex on a Stick, after all. So ol’ Brendan had some magical little sparkle about him, as well. Clearly, spells worked on him. Instead of playing kissy-face all afternoon, they should have studied up.
As I walked, I stared at a couple strolling along the rolling white grounds of Central Park, stealing a kiss underneath a bare tree. It reminded me of one tale that just shook me to my core, practically beating into my head how crucial it was to be a responsible witch. If Hadrian’s Medieval Legends really was a Book of Shadows, then we had barely scratched the surface on just how dark some of the magic out there was.
“Love? How can you define love?” Avelina asked, staring into the looking glass as Elizabeth brushed her daughter’s long mahogany tresses one hundred times.
“My dear daughter, what prompts that question? Do you think yourself in love?” Elizabeth asked, placing the brush on the vanity in front of her daughter. Elizabeth tried to keep the trepidation out of her voice; she was no fool, having seen the admiring glances from men whenever she and her daughter ventured into town. Elizabeth had always hoped Avelina would find a match in Colin, their neighbor’s gentle, loving son—while her husband, Elias, paraded their fair daughter in front of Gilbert, a mousy merchant who had fallen into fortune after a fire destroyed his competitor’s shop.
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slumped with defeat. “Is that love? I think of him so often.”
Elizabeth felt pride swell in her chest, but cautiously picked up the hairbrush again. A union with Colin—a kind, hardworking farmer, who would cherish Avelina—was Elizabeth’s greatest wish.
“And what of Gilbert?” Elizabeth gently pulled the silver brush through her daughter’s silken strands.
“He’s not unlike the rats in the cellar!” Avelina declared in her brazen way. “I should think he eats nothing but cheese and other scraps.”
Elizabeth thought about admonishing her bold daughter, but realized she had no recourse against the truth.
“My dear, you must never tell your father that,” Elizabeth whispered, trying to conceal her amusement by ducking behind Avelina’s head. “Gilbert is his dear friend.”
“Gilbert steals eggs from the chickens!” Avelina cried, and Elizabeth joined her daughter in laughter.
“So what of Colin, then?” Elizabeth set her hands on Avelina’s shoulders, and peered at daughter’s reflection in the looking glass, a younger version of Elizabeth’s own beauty.
“I do hope he calls on me tomorrow,” Avelina replied, her soft hands twisting together wistfully. “He did mention calling on me when he returned from town. I should think I’ll wear my blue dress. He has yet to see the blue dress. Perhaps we could go for a walk along the brook.”
“That sounds lovely, my dear,” Elizabeth said, her joy stretching across her peaceful face in a smile. Elizabeth had married Elias for a comfortable life, and were it not for Avelina, Elizabeth would have regretted the union every moment of her existence. She had hoped Avelina would choose love over wealth, and Colin’s mother 9780373210305_TS.indd 333
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had clucked that she believed Colin’s intentions were to ask Avelina to be his bride.
Elias exhaled slowly, keeping his presence hidden from his wife and daughter as he skulked in the hallway outside of Avelina’s room.
This won’t do! he thought, angry. His daughter’s beauty was his greatest asset; the men in town craved Avelina for their own bride. And his foolish wife was willing to let Avelina go willingly into the arms of Colin, whose means were less than Elias’s own!
“What is the purpose of having a fair daughter if I cannot profit?” Elias fumed. Gilbert had offered him a handsome price for his daughter, but Avelina continued to spurn his advances, politely conversing with him but offering him no encouragement. Yet she went for countless walks in the garden with Colin. Oh, that dullard Colin, who only recently found his horse after it broke free during a trip into town. Simple Colin couldn’t even manage to secure his steed properly.
“My dear Avelina, your life will be one of ease with Gilbert,” Elias argued later that evening. “Do you wish to struggle to stay warm in the winter?”
“If I am cold, I wish my husband be someone I’d want by my side for warmth!” Avelina replied, her insolence earning a swift strike from her father’s angry hand. Elias’s hands were quite skilled in administering punishment for impertinence, having practiced the art for all of Avelina’s young life. Tears in her eyes, Avelina ran from the parlor.
“Husband, why must you force our daughter’s hand?”
Elizabeth begged, falling to her knees before her husband to plead for her daughter. “Colin is a kind man. I do think she would be happy!”
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“Does her happiness make my purse heavy?” Elias sneered, shoving his wife away.
“You cannot force her to marry Gilbert!” Elizabeth got to her feet and faced her husband, fire flashing in her blue eyes. “She’d rather live as a spinster.”
After giving Elizabeth a handprint on her cheek to match the red one on their daughter’s face, Elias stormed out of their house. He simmered in his rage, bothered that Elizabeth did indeed tell the truth. Elias could no more force Avelina to marry Gilbert than he could force the sun to crash into the moon.
Gilbert had spoken of turning Avelina’s heart against Colin. “There are ways,” Gilbert had promised her father. “Dark ways, for which you will be handsomely rewarded.”
The time has come for desperate tactics, Elias thought, beginning the long walk to Gilbert’s manor. He arrived at Gilbert’s doorstep in the dead of night. Elias knew the wealthy merchant would be so grateful for the advance notice of Colin’s intentions that he’d likely give Elias one of the horses from his own stable to ride back to his house—
and keep as his own!
“What is this, are you mad?” Gilbert asked, twitching his long nose and thin, whispery moustache at Elias when he rang the door.
“My dear Gilbert, the time is running short for you to own my Avelina,” Elias said, pushing open Gilbert’s door. “She will say yes to Colin tomorr
ow unless we act tonight.”
Gilbert peered at Elias, wrinkling his nose again and rubbing his little pink hands together. “Yes, Elias, do come in. We, ah, have much to discuss. Of course, you will be handsomely rewarded for the hand of Avelina.”
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The scheming men sat in Gilbert’s parlor, the flickering light from the fire illuminating the fine drapes and rich furnishings.
This could all be mine, Elias thought, greedily running his hands over the satin couch.
“I’ve thought that it may come to this,” Gilbert squeaked in his high voice, walking to a brass-embellished wooden box. Slipping a small key out of his pocket, Gilbert opened the box, pulling out a thin leather strap and a velvet satchel.
“So shall we threaten Colin? Steal him away from town?”
Elias asked, excited by the intrigue of a rich plan.
Gilbert scoffed, wrinkling his long nose in disgust. “My dear Elias, do you think I would meddle with such physical affairs?”
“We shall hire a mercenary then!” Elias cried—but Gilbert, again, just laughed at Elias as he knelt in front of a low table.
“Have you ever pondered my fortune in business?” Gilbert asked, taking a black candle out of the satchel and lighting it. The flames reflected in his dark eyes as his thin lips stretched over his teeth in a smile.
“You’re quite intelligent, dear Gilbert,” Elias replied, unsure of Gilbert’s point.
“That may be true,” Gilbert said, grinning that same eerie smile, “but Mr. Fitzpatrick had to shutter his shop when it burned—and I inherited his customers.”
Elias spread his hands graciously. “Fortune stepped in, sir.”
“Fortune?” Gilbert spat out, taking out a black bowl and a small scrap of paper. “I believe you make your own fortune in this world, sir. I desired his clientele, just as I desire your daughter, so I took the necessary steps.”
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“Did you pray for God to strike Fitzpatrick’s shop with the lightning that set it to burn?” Elias asked.
“Not God.” A little giggle escaped Gilbert’s lips as he wrote the name “Colin” on the scrap of paper and placed it in the black bowl along with the leather strap.
“What are you doing there, Gilbert?” Elias asked, peering into the bowl.
“Making my own fortune,” he answered, holding up the end of the strap. “This is part of that fool Colin’s bridle—I stole it! It’s why his horse ran off. I wondered if I’d need something of his to prove to Avelina that I’m her match.”
Gilbert lowered his head, staring at Elias through his thin lashes. “By tomorrow’s eve, Avelina will not desire Colin—
and you will no longer want for any mortal delights.”
He held out his shiny pink hand and Elias greedily grabbed it.
“Now, repeat after me,” Gilbert said, licking his thin lips and holding his other palm outstretched. Elias mirrored his pose.
“Become what your heart fears
Bring anguish upon one you hold dear
Bring her pain! Bring her tears!
Become what she fears!”
A bitter smell reached Elias’s nose, and he opened his eyes to see smoke rising from the paper and bridle in the black bowl. The candle’s flame grew longer, slithering through the air like a snake.
“I give you vision inside her heart
What will break your bond apart
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Destroy her love, release your hold
To you Avelina will turn cold!”
The flame twisted and coiled through the smoke, shooting up through the air with a sudden, violent spike before plummeting into the bowl, which erupted in flames.
Gilbert let go of Elias’s hand and raised his palms in triumph over the inferno, throwing his head back and laughing.
“What is this?” Elias demanded, scrambling to his feet to back away from the fire, which exploded in a burst of black-and-blue flames before shrinking into ash with a hiss.
“This is me, deciding my own fate.” Gilbert cackled.
He again stood at the curious wooden box and pulled out a small bag, the contents of which jangled musically. He casually tossed the bag to Elias.
“The first payment for Avelina,” Gilbert said. “By this time tomorrow, she will have no love in her heart for Colin.
Bring my bride to me and you’ll receive another handsome payment.”
Gilbert rubbed his small hands together again. “I’m anxious to begin my honeymoon.”
Elias pocketed the bag of coins and, with a brief nod to Gilbert, attempted a hasty exit.
“Elias,” Gilbert called, his black eyes glimmering like the dying embers in the fireplace, “you walked here, yes?
Take one of my horses…dear Father.”
Elias nodded a thank-you and went to Gilbert’s stable, his fears over the merchant’s penchant for black magic forgotten when he found a prize steed to take as his own.
Elias galloped home, his mind clouded with thoughts of rich meals, fine garments and faraway lands.
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smoothing wrinkles from her best blue dress. Her thoughts turned to Colin, to his intentions. She dreamed of sitting in Colin’s parlor, welcoming him home.
“She doesn’t seem vexed by Colin,” Elias fretted, staring at his daughter. She inspected her slightly red cheek in the looking glass and offered her father a venomous stare.
She does, however, seem vexed by me, Elias thought, pondering if Gilbert’s dark machinations had soured.
Colin called on her early, wearing his finest garments.
Elias sneered at the rough fabric— This is not fit to warm my new horse! he thought—but allowed Avelina to depart with Colin for a walk along the brook.
“I do hope your travels weren’t troubled at all,” Avelina said when they had reached the banks of the lovely brook babbling below them. They watched the water kiss the stones that lined the bank, and she smiled at how Colin’s warm brown eyes appeared almost honey-colored in the sunlight.
“My dear Avelina, I did encounter one unpleasant man—a man I admit to wishing you could meet, only to hear what wonderful commentary you would have offered me,” Colin said, smiling. “And my dear, I would endure a thousand more troubles if you were at the end of every journey.”
Avelina gasped, realizing Colin was declaring his intentions to her. He took her hands, and she marveled at the tenderness underneath his strong, work-hardened skin.
So unlike her father, so unlike Gilbert. Colin was a kind man—just and honest. He was often amused by her brazen statements. He found humor in her impolite comments.
He loved all that was Avelina.
So this is love, she thought, smiling at Colin’s gentle nature. This is how you define it.
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“Avelina, I would—” Colin paused, and violently shook, his body trembling and twisting like a small leaf.
“Colin!” Avelina cried as he fell onto the lawn.
She collapsed on her knees next to him, her hands fluttering a
bout him as his face contorted in pain.
Then—calm. Silence. Colin opened his eyes, and Avelina gasped. It was as if the black center of his eyes had overflowed, spilling over the honey-colored and white banks, overtaking his vision.
Colin sprang to his feet with catlike precision and grabbed Avelina’s tender jaw.
“Colin! What has come over you?” she cried through her teeth, clenched underneath his strong grasp.
“You will obey me!” Colin ordered in a rough voice—a voice not his own. A voice not the same as the one who had found humor in her statements. A voice not the same as the one who had often asked to call on her. It was a voice that sounded otherworldly…demonic.
“You will mind what you say! You will cater to my desires!” Colin demanded, shaking Avelina again.
She protested, tears overflowing her eyes and spilling down her fair cheeks, until they touched Colin’s hand.
“How dare you defile my skin with your worthless tears?” he snarled, and Avelina stepped back, fearing the once-gentle farmer.
“Colin, I beg of you—”
“You will beg! You will beg and plead, you worthless cow!” Colin growled, and Avelina took another step back.
“You will submit to me!” With a final roar, Colin stepped forward, and Avelina retreated again. Her footing faltered on the slick banks, and she fell down—
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* * *
There was indeed a blessing and a curse to my photographic memory. The blessing was, well, studying was a breeze. But the curse…I would never, as long as I live, forget that story.
I would never forget the horribly graphic way Hadrian described Avelina’s fall, how she crushed her head on the rocks and died. How Colin snapped out of the curse at her death, and later killed himself, sure that he had somehow caused Avelina’s demise.
And I would never forget the foolishness of Gilbert, the epitome of magical carelessness. Casual magic was dangerous.
It was lethal. Of course Avelina died—just look at the wording he used in his spell. Avelina was, indeed, cold to Colin. She was cold to everyone.
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