I lean into Carter’s hand and kiss his palm. “I love you, too. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
“You’ll never have to find out,” he says.
His thumb traces my lower lip. I watch his eyes darken from the soft green to a daring, sparkling shade that makes my heart beat faster. He leans into me, urging my mouth to meet his with gentleness that quickly turns firmer. His tongue dips between my lips and its stirs a craving inside of me, instinctual and sensual. I sigh against his mouth and he groans. He cradles me in his arms and leans us down until my back rests on the ground. His body moves on top of mine, our hips touching, arms tangling, and legs entwining.
“You’re so beautiful,” he breathes. His words whisper across my skin.
He opens his mouth to say more, but I silence him with another kiss. I thread my fingers through his hair, enjoying the way our kiss deepens. I trace my hands down his back, tug on his shirt and lift it up. My nails trail along his bare skin. He tenses under my touch. I pull his shirt off and feel the muscles of his chest. His lips graze my ear, my chin, my neck. God, he kisses everything, and I feel it in my whole being.
His hands shift, slip under my shirt. They create a path for the fire to follow. I tremble from the heat, from desire, from the feel of his warm fingers sliding down my stomach.
“Penelope,” he says. Carter’s voice is rough, his mouth brushing my ear and his breath warm on my skin. Then he pauses. “We should stop.”
I nod because he’s right, but my head doesn’t listen because my lips are on his again and he’s breathing heavier and my whole body is a mess of fire and ice and desire. His hands don’t stop touching me; his tongue doesn’t leave my mouth. My back arches into him. My foot wraps around his, and then his lips and his hands are gone and he’s sitting up on the floor.
My mind is still reeling when he turns back to me. “Your grandma is downstairs,” he says as if it’s the most simple thing in the world. Like it’s an answer to everything. And it is. I mean, really, but in this moment I really hate that they’re all down there.
“Sorry,” I say quickly, sitting up too.
Carter shakes his head. “I’m not,” he says with a smile. “But I am scared of your grandma.”
I stare for a second before bursting into laughter. He laughs too, and pulls me next to his bare chest—which I will not think about at all—and kisses my forehead.
“She can be trouble,” I say.
“It’s where you get it from,” he says back.
I kiss him again. He gives me one back before getting up and putting his shirt back on. “I’m going to get us that ice cream now,” he says.
I nod and he tosses me a smile before disappearing out the door. I straighten my hair in the mirror and pick up Emmaline’s journal again.
21 October 1841
I have met the most enthralling and brave man. I was in a quaint part of town where Father does not let us travel, but I was there alone. If Father discovered it so I would most assuredly be reprimanded. It was inappropriate to be with him alone in the tresses of night, but I could not get away. I did not want to. He fawned over me like I was a prize, calling me honest, fair, and absolute. And I fancied him. I found his company refreshing; his words are sweet like honey and his kisses even sweeter. We have planned to meet again at the week’s end.
Connie is outside my room and I yell for her. A giggle fills the hallway, drifts in through the open the door. I hear Thomas’s hearty laugh, followed by hers, and I smile.
9 December 1841
Mayhap I have disgraced my family, but I have found myself in him. With him I feel things I have not felt in all my days. He ravished me with desire and I welcomed it. Now I am weary with wanting more. We steal our touches in the dark, and shadows alone know our secret. If my family discovers the truth they will be vile and destroy my love. I will tell them naught.
I turn the page again. Why is Emmaline’s lover unacceptable? Our family wasn’t upper society in those days, so what could be so bad about it? I doubt he sparkled.
13 February 1841
I have made myself a fool. My hasty actions have now left me without choices. While I am woeful of the reasoning, I am o’er wrought with joy at the adventure of child rearing. My, how things have changed! I will tell my family on the morrow and they will think me unwise and abhor my decisions. But I am uncaring. For he has told me all he has planned, that the babe and I will join him, and I cannot be more overjoyed. I am not hesitant. I do not fear this. I am deserving of rapture and on the morrow it will be mine.
I don’t even pause to breathe as I turn the page. What did she tell them?
4 March 1842
I’m leaving tonight. Then it will happen. He says it is time. My parents, my siblings are vile creatures. They do not even know the whole truth, for that would assuredly push them over the edge. They do not know what he is, what the baby is, what I’m about to become. My heart wants to tell them, but for the safety of my baby I cannot. I should make haste, but I need to record it here in case something happens, in case it goes wrong and I do not survive the transformation.
My love claims it will be a painful one—supposedly usual for a witch. He says it is a physical, emotional, and mental pain. Torment. I am ready, even as he says it is dangerous. The transition to dismiss the essence of holy magic for an endless void is not easy. Some bodies reject it. My essence is part of my soul, so I expect that it would struggle to remain so. A battle is pending. Should I survive it, I shall finally be found.
I turn the page. There’s nothing. That’s the end. How can that be the end? Did she die? A transformation can really only mean one thing, and it’s so abhorrent I don’t know how I could even think it.
“I have chocolate mint and peanut butter swirl,” Carter says. I turn around to face him and his brow scrunches up. “What’s wrong?”
I watch him set the ice cream on my dresser, still trying to process the end of Emmaline’s journey. “It’s over,” I say, passing it to him. He reads over the last line, his eyes widening.
“A transformation? She became a demon?”
I can’t speak, but it’s the only explanation. The only reason my family would wipe her out, would try to pretend that she had never existed. Her lover must have… Did anyone know about this? “What happened to her? Was it successful?”
Carter’s eyes get bright. “I know who can help us find out.”
Carter and I move as quietly as possible toward an old pizza joint, following the tracking device beeps. Now that we knew Vassago has a DNE, he was easy enough to find this time. We just had to enter a number and follow the pulse. A modern-day trail of bread crumbs.
The walls outside the joint are red and a few Nons go in and out the door. But I see our quarry almost immediately, and head in his direction. I’m not sure what to ask him first. Did Emmaline succeed? Is she a demon somewhere? Did she die? Did she choose the demon over her child because of how inferior she felt, or was it something else?
“What are you having?” a growl-like voice snaps from behind the counter. The guy before us is tall, the size of some ex-pro wrestler or gang enthusiast, and his eyes are a bright green. My instinct tells me to fight, to run, but Carter puts his hand on the small of my back, grounding me in place.
“Two slices of cheese and a Coke.”
“Diet Coke,” I say.
The burly guy takes our money, his lip snarled up. I don’t take my eyes off the old man sitting in the corner. He doesn’t take his eyes off me either. Carter presses on my back and we walk together toward the corner table.
“These seats taken?” Carter asks.
Vassago looks up at us, his beard hanging with strings of mozzarella. How does he get so disgusting? “Only if you’d like them to be,” he says.
My whole body is shaking and I know I’ll have to speak soon. The answer scares me almost as much as the question. Carter squeezes my hand.
“You have another request,” Vassago says. His voice
is filled with amusement as Big Burly brings our order to the table. He shoots Vassago a look and the old demon waves him off.
I take a breath. “Emmaline Spencer—she was related to me. She fell in love and underwent the transformation. What happened to her?”
He raises an eyebrow toward Carter. “Have you found the one who seeks what you seek?”
Carter’s lips form a straight line. “Not yet.”
“Searching can be so tiresome when you come up with nothing,” Vassago says. His eyes drift back to me. “Have you seen my sock?”
I grit my teeth. I’d like to knock his other sock off. “No. Can’t say I have.”
“Perhaps you will dream about it,” he says.
His words catch me off guard and I balk. He can’t be implying that he’s giving me the dreams. That’s not his power. That’s not even possible. My stomach rumbles and I feel the magic stirring. Carter must feel it too, because he squeezes my hand again.
“Emmaline Spencer?” I ask quickly.
Vassago points to my pizza. “May I?” he asks.
I push the plate toward him and watch as he stuffs a bite in his mouth and chews like a cow. Slow and watchful. The corner of his mouth spreads into a smile. “Your quest is wasteful. Open your eyes, little witch, and find the answer.”
My brain tries to process what he’s saying. He’s getting up out of the chair and no. No. I can’t handle any more of these nonanswers.
“But you didn’t tell me where to go next!” I say.
Carter is pulling me up out of the seat and I push him away, slam my hand on the table in front of Vassago.
“Tell me.”
The demon smiles and then leans back, like he’s bored. “If you looked around, you would be free. The answer is in the past of one you daily see.”
Then he stands up and his metal chair flies across the floor. “Do not contact me again about these matters,” he says.
Big Burly looks at us and a couple other demons are hissing, then Carter is pushing me out the door. My mind is racing. Open my eyes. Someone I daily see. The answer has been in front of me the whole time. Gran. The only person who could know is Gran.
Carter’s phone beeps and I think it’s the tracker, but the look on his face says it’s not. “Poncho found something about Kriegen. I’ll go check it out.”
“I have to go home right now.”
To talk to Gran.
Somehow, I know it’s her. The way she’s worked so hard to protect the secret of my magic—she knows how to hide secrets. But it’s time to come clean.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Gran is reading in the living room when I get home. The speech I had prepared in my head suddenly doesn’t seem so easy now that I’m standing here. If this were a movie it’d be simple. I could read her mind or blurt it out in a run-on sentence, and we’d cry and we’d both be good. I don’t think this is going to be like that.
“Penelope, are you all right?” Gran asks, putting her book on the side table. I look at her, study the sharp lines on her face and the crease on her nose from where her glasses sit all day.
“We should talk,” I say.
She looks nervous, but neither her nerves nor my own will stop me. I sit down on the white floral chair next to her. This is so nerve-racking. I’m pretty sure I’ll need a whole lot of Ben & Jerry’s to calm me down when this is over. But I need to know about Emmaline. Finding my demon, getting my magic back, it’s all led me here. To Emmaline. To this moment.
“Gran,” I start. I pull the journal out of my bag and set it on the table between us. She stiffens at the sight of it. “You know what this is. I found it, I read it, and I need to know why it’s been kept a secret. What does it mean?”
Gran shakes her head and starts to stand, but I grab her arm and kneel down before her. Her blue eyes stare into mine. They’re sad and scared.
“I’ve been searching for a way to get my magic back, Gran, and all of it has led me here,” I say.
She shakes her head. “You don’t know what you’re asking.”
“I know she became a demon,” I say. “I know she had a child. Fill in the rest for me. Please.”
She’s like a deer caught in the headlights, afraid to move or breathe. But she does. “I wanted to protect you from this,” she says.
“The truth will protect me more.”
She looks at me and nods. Pats my hand and nods again. Then she’s moving, up the stairs and toward the attic. I follow her with the journal, not trusting to let her out of my sight. She moves through the crowded space like a pro.
She knows exactly where she’s put it. I watch as Gran goes to the window and then takes three steps left. She bends down, taps on the floorboards, and then pries off a huge chunk.
“This spot has been a secret hiding place for generations,” she explains. “As long as our family has lived in this house.”
I bend down beside her. Down the hole there’s a bunch of items. Papers all tied together with ribbon, a jar of teeth (at least that’s what it looks like), a vial of blue powder. She sets a cigar box beside me on the floor; dust flies off as she opens it. She pulls out this folded piece of paper, yellowed and faded.
“You can read this, but you can’t leave until we’ve talked. Promise me,” she says. Her voice is heavy, choked, and I get the feeling that she’s done this before.
I nod. “I swear.”
Gran looks at me over her glasses once more before she hands me the paper. Gently, I unfold the creases and smooth it out against the journal. I don’t look up at Gran, even though I can feel her eyes on me. I’m too afraid of what I will see.
October 1842
My dearest family,
You have many questions, I am sure, but please know had there had been another way for me to achieve the happiness you have desired for me in all these years, I would have sought it. If you read this, I am not with you, and you are in possession of my children. Take care of them. Love them more than you loved me. That is my last request.
I have left your world forever. I shall not return from whence I came.
The world I now serve is one you loathe, and thus, you shall loathe me. But the one who holds my heart is here; our love is strong and powerful and I must be with him. Entirely. I should not expect you to understand what I have chosen, yet I need you to know the truth. To know why I abandoned my own, and where I have gone.
This decision was not one I made lightly. It required me to renounce my service to God and drain another witch. To give up my essence. The time varies from the moment a witch absolves her essence and embraces the void. Days to weeks to months before one can fully transition, yet it is too late for me. Do not seek me. Ever. I cannot be found. The daughter and sister you once had no longer exists. I have become more. Mayhaps, the most.
My love believes that that one day a witch will come who can serve the essence and be enfolded into the void of magic. He claims this witch will be the most powerful demons ever bred, and perhaps, it shall be me. He believes it so. I am unsure, yet I still desire this path. He will accept me should I survive the transformation. No matter the outcome, I shall never return to you.
Do not mourn me, for I have not died. Now I finally live. With the transformation, I will be immortal and live far beyond you in my new world.
Alas, a life in hell is not one for witches, and my children are too innocent to survive there, which is why I send them to you. I never belonged in your world, but they do not belong in mine.
This path is meant for me to follow. This is the life I was destined for, my chance to obtain all the things I dream of beyond this world and this body. Azsis assures me that we will be together forever, and that is my greatest joy. I beseech you, dear family, not to tell my children of my lostness, but of my life. Tell them to find a path, and to follow it as I have.
Eternally,
Emmaline
Holy shit.
Azsis is my demon. Azsis was Emmaline’s demon, her love. God. She b
ecame a demon, and they had children together. No wonder it all led me to the same place. Azsis started everything.
Gran is watching me closely, her eyes glistening. Everything I read is spinning in my head, connecting dots and pieces to a whole picture made up of one word: Demon.
“The name of her children?” I say, my mouth like cotton.
Gran inhales beside me. “Twins. Beatrice and Clara Spencer.”
Beatrice Spencer was my very-very-great-grandmother. Emmaline was her mother. That’s the family tree—the real one.
Emmaline had a child with a demon—the demon that killed my family and took my essence. That child was born into my family seven generations ago. I share its blood. I have demon blood running through my veins. Why would Azsis do that to his own family?
Demon. Demon. Demon. The words resound through my head. I slam the page down and gasp in air to match the racing of my heart. I have to stand, to pace, to keep moving. If I stop I may never stand again.
Everything makes sense now. The way the demons are always finding me. The statement about how I smell. My powers still working even though I don’t have an essence.
Because, somewhere, I have a connection to the void.
To demonic magic.
And so does Connie. And my mom. And Gran. Everyone in my family.
That’s how my magic works with theirs. Because I can connect to that part of them. The demon part of our heritage that still exists within me.
I am a demon. Suddenly, it all makes sense.
I’m going to be sick.
“Penelope, sit down here,” Gran says. I feel her hands on my shoulders guiding me to a chair. I know she’s talking, but I only hear my own heart beating. Open your eyes. The truth was right there all this time. I didn’t see it. I didn’t want to see it.
My eyes focus in on Gran. “Why wouldn’t you tell me this?”
Her lips quiver. “I-It’s a long story, Penelope.”
Salt Page 24
