Paris crackled with energy now, too. Someone was going to die. There was no way around.
Except maybe one. But neither Paris or Roman were going to like it.
Throwing her free hand to her side, Julia sent a prayer out and hoped for the best.
She had energy. That much was true. But she needed more. With Paris’ hand in her own, she did the only thing she could.
She took his power.
Weeds sprouted from the ground, forming a line that separated the covens from each other. They twisted and stretched into the sky, weaving and knotting together to form a wall.
“Hibiscus root,” Cassandra spit, knowing what it meant.
The wall formed now could be crossed by neither of the covens. Hibiscus was deadly to witches, and barriers made of it could only be broken by the witch who created them.
It was a last ditch effort, and it was a dangerous one.
“This isn’t over!” Roman screamed from behind the wall. “You’ll all burn for what you did to him!”
Julia swallowed hard, tearing up from the hurt on his face. She pulled Paris’ arm over her shoulder, helping to get him toward the porch. She had taken a lot out of him without warning. Hopefully he could forgive her for that.
The look Cassandra shot her as she climbed the steps may as well have been dipped in acid.
“They were outnumbered,” she said, looking to Julia. “We could have ended this today.”
Julia scoffed, moving past her with Paris in tow.
Cass grabbed her arm. “We will talk about this!”
Julia pulled away. “No, we won’t. Because I can promise you, you do not want to hear what I would have to say.”
Julia was going to talk. She knew that much to be true. It just wasn’t going to be with Cassandra.
As April climbed the last stair into the old treehouse, Julia helped pull her the rest of the way inside.
“Thank you for meeting me,” Julia said.
They’d built this together when they were younger and it had stood for all this time, just like their friendship. And, like their friendship, the treehouse stood in secret.
April nodded. “Of course. You act like this wasn’t my favorite place in the whole world or something.”
Julia gave the girl a hug, then held her at arm’s length to give her a look in the eyes. “Did anyone follow you?”
“Please,” she said, rolling her eyes. “By this time, I should know how to lose a tail, especially when that tail was ordered by my father.”
Julia pressed her lips together and gave a curt nod, trying to keep the tears at bay. “I’m sorry to hear about your brother.”
“So was I,” she answered. “And I’m sorry about Roman. He’s understandably a mess, but he shouldn’t have come to your house like that.”
“It’s not my house,” Julia said. “It hasn’t been for a long time.”
“How many times have we met like this over the years?” April looked out the small carved hole in the treehouse that served as a window. “Did you ever imagine we would still have to do this when we were grown?”
“This goddamn feud, April. It has to stop.”
“You know the first time I ever heard about the feud?” April turned to Julia. “It was the same day I met you, actually. I told my brother that I had made a new friend, that she was the coolest girl I’d ever met. And then Roman looked at you and told me that you were a Fairweather, and that I wasn’t allowed to have anything to do with you.”
Julia grinned. “Good thing you didn’t listen to him.”
“Good thing for him, too,” she said, raising her eyebrows. “My brother can be stubborn, even when things are going good. But he loves you. You know that, don’t you?”
“April, don’t.”
“I most certainly will,” she shot back. “Because it’s true. He loves you. Whether he admits it or not, he does. I know things look bad now. I have to put my baby brother in the ground, that’s how bad they are. But don’t give up on Roman, and don’t give up on being happy. Something good has to come out of all of this.”
“It’s not in the stars for us, April,” Julia said, stretching her legs out in front of her. “Literally. You’re the one who did our chart, remember?”
“Eh, what did I know then?” April asked, waving her hand. “I was a child. I didn’t know anything. And, even if that was true, I’ve seen the way you feel about each other, and I don’t give a flying fuck what the stars have to say about that.” She sighed, leaning back against the wall of the treehouse. “He’s my brother, Julia. I want him to be happy. And, whether he would ever say this to you or not, there is no happiness for him without you.”
“And what do you want me to do about that?”
“I want you to do the same thing you want to do.” Julia pursed her lips. “Don’t get married. Not unless it’s to him.”
Julia swallowed hard. “I wish it could be that way, April,” she said quietly, looking out at those stars and wondering what they would have to say for themselves now. “More than anything, I wish it could.”
10
Roman
Roman had been alone in that supply closet for two hours before anyone came in. Rustling up roots, plants, herbs, and the few dark objects his family had managed to keep safe through the trials and the aftermath of them; it wasn’t necessary. The Blackwoods had people to do that, magical servants who had trained their entire lives for this sort of thing.
But he couldn’t just sit there in that living room with the rest of them. They were talking about everything that happened, blaming the Fairweathers, and making a plan of attack.
He couldn’t do that. He couldn’t be that calm, that focused. His brother was dead. He died helping him. It was Roman’s fault, but he wouldn’t let it end that way.
The Fairweathers would pay for what happened to his brother. They would burn before the next full moon. And nothing would stop it.
Roman froze when the door creaked open. If this was Father, Roman was going to gauge his own eyes out. He could not take one more conversation about the direction of their family now that Adam was gone, about how everything was on Roman’s shoulders now.
“Are you okay?”
April’s voice relaxed Roman’s nerves a fraction.
“No,” he said, going back to collecting items. “And you shouldn’t be, either.”
“I’m not,” she answered, and Roman could hear the tears in her voice. His little sister—she was going through hell. They all were, and it was on him.
He had caused this, and he couldn’t fix it. But he would die and go straight to hell before he gave up without avenging it.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“Preparing.” He continued sorting through the items, his back still his sister. He couldn’t face her. “You should join me.”
“Preparing for what? War?”
“Damn straight,” he said. Finally, he turned to her, feeling the white hot rage as it passed into his face. “And not just any war, April. The war. The one that’s going to end this fucking useless feud once and for all. Those Fairweather fuckers want lighting. I’ll bring lightning and so much worse. They’ll pray for death by the time I’m finished with them. I’ll end their damn bloodline! I’ll wipe the earth of any trace of them!”
He breathed, finally breathed.
“Roman, stop this,” April answered softly, reaching out to touch his arm. But he flinched away. “You’re not thinking clearly. This is all happening so fast. And those damn gypsies…I think they messed with your head.”
He ground his teeth together. “I am my own man, April.”
“I know you are. You always have been. But this is an extraordinary circumstance. And I think that we need to slow down, maybe consider our options.”
“Our options?” He balked. “You’re fucking joking, I hope? We don’t have any options. There’s only one thing left to do. We end this now.”
“You’re not yourself,” she said
. “I don’t blame you. I don’t feel right, either. How could we? But you and I are two completely different things. You’re the heir to this coven, and if you go popping off at the mouth, then the rest of us don’t have any option but to follow. So please, just think.”
“I am thinking,” he shot back, enough hurt passing through his eyes to blind him. “For the first time in my entire life, I can see things the way they are. I thought things could work out, that this feud didn’t have to swallow us up in it, but I was wrong. I was dead wrong. And honestly, April, I can’t see how you’re not agreeing with me.” He shook his head. “They killed him. They killed Adam. He’s dead! Don’t you get that?”
“Of course I get it.” April stepped closer. “Don’t you think this hurts me, too? I remember when he was born, Roman. I remember when they brought him home from the hospital, when he was baptized into the fold.” Tears flooded his little sister’s cheeks, and a sharp pang ripped through Roman’s chest. “I’m dying inside, Roman. I’m dying.”
“Then what the hell are you talking about?” Roman asked, steeling himself, even if only outwardly. He watched his sister, the tears streaming down her face. He wanted to scoop her up into his arms and tell her things would be okay. But he couldn’t. If he stopped, if he slowed down, if he showed even that little bit of softness, he knew without doubt that it would kill him, too. “You should be here with me. We should be planning our retaliation.”
“You’re just not thinking,” she said, and Roman’s anger started edging toward a tipping point.
“You keep saying that, April, and it’s no more true than the first time!” His hands curled into fists at his side. “I am sure as shit thinking, I assure you. I’m thinking about the fact that my brother is gone, and that my sister isn’t on my side.”
“Of course I’m on your side,” she said, sighing. “I’m on your side even when you’re not. Have you even thought about her, Roman? Have you thought about Julia at all?”
He blinked hard. “Shut up, April,” he said. “This doesn’t have anything to do with her.”
“You’re declaring war on her coven, Roman. Her family. How on earth could it not have anything to do with her?”
“Because she isn’t part of that coven,” he answered gruffly. “She left it almost two years ago. And if she goes through with marrying that ginger dickhead, then she’ll be part of the Louisiana Coven, not the Moon Coven.”
“The Louisiana Coven has ties with the Moon Coven, Roman. They would be forced to come to their defense. And even if they didn’t, it’s still her family. Do you really think she would ever look at you the same if you hurt them?”
“I’m not doing anything to her family that they haven’t done to mine.”
“But she didn’t do it to you, Roman. That’s the point.” April crossed her arms. Roman hated when April crossed her arms, because it always happened right when she knew she was right and when she knew he knew it, too. “I told her, and I’ll tell you. You’re never going to be happy without each other. It’s just not going to happen.”
Roman’s eyes narrowed. “When?”
“When what?”
“When did you talk to her, April? She just got back in town.”
“I…”
“April, don’t you dare lie to me.”
“Last night,” she said, glancing over her shoulder at the door she’d come in. “It wasn’t like that, though. I just wanted to make sure she was—”
“Our brother wasn’t even cold!” he screamed.
“She loved him, too, Roman. You know she did,” April said, facing Roman once more. “And now she’s going to be blamed with the rest of them.”
“She won’t,” he said, steeling himself. “You shouldn’t have gone there. You shouldn’t have talked to her at all, let alone last night. But she won’t be hurt.” Roman nodded firmly. “Whatever happens, I’ll take care of Julia Fairweather.”
“Yeah,” April said, her tone deflating. “I hope you’re right. Because honestly, I don’t see that one going over well with the rest of our coven.”
11
Julia
Julia fidgeted nervously as the lady stuck another pin into her dress. At least the woman actually hit cloth this time and not Julia’s leg again.
She bit her bottom lip, unable to really put into words how wrong all of this felt.
First of all, this dress—it was a joke. A long white thing with tapered flowers and fluffy lace, it certainly wasn’t something she ever imagined she would be getting married in. But it had belonged to Paris’ mother and, given that she was dead and all, Julia didn’t feel like she could really protest too much.
“Don’t focus so much on the legs,” Julia’s mother said, looking her daughter up and down. “They’re not much to look at anyway. And besides, we have got to do something about that waistline.”
Julia blew a stray strand of hair from her lips. “My mother, ladies and gentlemen.”
“Oh, don’t be like that. If I don’t tell you these things, then you won’t know them. And wouldn’t you rather it be me criticizing you than the guests?” She scrunched her nose. “Witches can be real bitches, you know.”
“Right,” she answered, looking out the window. Everything seemed so surreal. It had been just days ago that Roman had stood there, cursing her family, vowing revenge. The bulbs of the plant she’d forced up were still hanging in the air. She turned back to her mother. “It just doesn’t seem right.”
“What’s that, dear? Your hair? No, I agree, but don’t worry. I have a spell that’ll make it look at least fifty percent less drab.” She narrowed her eyes. “Maybe I should up the potency.”
“Not that, Mother.” Inwardly, Julia groaned. “There’s a war going on—a literal war. Adam Blackwood is dead. The customary mourning period hasn’t even passed. And here we are, planning a lavish wedding and celebration. It seems wrong. Wasteful.”
“It’s only wasteful if you don’t enjoy it, my dear.”
“Then it’s definitely going to be wasteful…”
Her mother moved forward, looking down at the seamstress, who was still working on the ugly dress.
“Leave us,” she ordered.
She glared at the back of the older woman’s head as she scurried out of the room and closed the door behind her.
“How completely spoiled are you?” Julia’s mother crossed her arms and strolled in a slow circle around where Julia sat. “Was it your father’s family? Did life on that ranch make you forget what it was like to have real responsibilities?”
“It was a farm,” Julia muttered. “And there was a hell of a lot more responsibility there than ever will be here. I worked. I had chores. It mattered where I was and what I did. Look at you. You sleep until noon and spend your entire day drinking martinis and gossiping about people.” Julia stood, stepping in closer to her Mother. “If anyone is spoiled, it’s you.”
“Are you under the assumption that I was in love with your father?” Julia’s mother asked. “Your father was a political advantage. The mortals had a coalition back then. They were rich in dark artifacts and unspoken history. But they were starting to grow wary and untrusting of our coven’s growing influence. My marriage to him quelled those fears.”
Julia swallowed hard. She had never really thought much about her parents’ relationship with each other. “And where are they now?” she asked. “I’ve never heard of any human coalition.”
“Well.” Julia’s mother smiled. “Let’s just say they were right to be wary. The point is, we all do things we don’t want to do, things we’re sure we can’t.” She touched her hair. Not to fix anything, but more as a matter of show. “The truth is, we can force ourselves to do anything so long as we stop caring. And look on the bright side. You got a good one.” She gave her daughter a wink. “I’d love to get a piece of that ginger snap.”
“Mother!”
Julia’s mother just shrugged, a playful grin tipping up the corners of her lips. “There’s no rea
son a mother in law can’t look, dear. It’s not like I’m dead or anything.”
The next few days were long and fraught with tension. Though preparations for the wedding were in full swing, the threat of war hung heavy. And yet her mother did not so much as pause.
Daffodils are white roses?
Chocolate cake, or vanilla? Both?
Chicken or duck? Lemon bridesmaids dresses or burgundy.
Should they choose the food before the dress or the dress before the food. They should go together. Duck with the Burgundy dresses and white roses, vanilla cake…or Chicken with the lemon dresses and chocolate cake.
Julia, mind heavy with worry, let her mother decide on all the wedding arrangement. She had more important things to focus on. Such as the ancestors, who were still speaking to her in nonsensical whispers. Maybe it might be nice to know what they had to say about all this.
She pursed her lips as she folded another shirt into a moving box. It didn’t matter what the ancestors had to say. After the wedding, she would be forced to live with Paris’s coven, and her ancestors didn’t whisper through the walls at his place.
Julia flopped down on her bed and stared up at the ceiling.
Did the dead Blackwood ancestors talk to their coven as well? And, if so, was Adam’s voice now whispering to some poor soul alongside them?
Thinking on this, she closed her eyes. She’d meant to get back up again, but stress was the strongest sleep aid, and she found herself pulled under as if by spell.
She should have dreamt of her fiancé. But dreams have a mind of their own, so of course she dreamt of Roman. Of his hands on her body, his lips against her mouth, the nibble of his teeth on her neck, the pinch of his fingers around her nipple.
This was not the touch of the enemy.
But the screams that woke her in the dead of night told her otherwise.
The screaming wasn’t from inside her coven’s home, though. She didn’t find out until the next morning what had happened.
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