Julia blew out a thin breath and opened her hands at her sides. “I have to marry him, Roman,” she said. “I have to marry Paris.”
“Is that…” Roman shook his head. “How much time has passed, Julia? Has that not resolved itself yet?”
“It’s only been a few hours.”
Hours? Roman’s heart sank. It had felt like years, and it had only been hours. This was never going to end.
“Tell me what happened,” he said, still unable to bridge the gap between them. “But do it quickly. I’m usually not up here for much longer before…before I’m not anymore.”
He watched Julia’s face twist. The thought of him being hurt obviously hurt her, too. And, in the midst of all this, that made him feel a little better.
“Cassandra put a spell on my mother. She’s in agony, and no one can undo it except Cassandra. If I don’t marry Paris…my mother will be dead in a day’s time.” She ran hands through that gorgeous hair. “So, I need you to wake up, baby. Because I’m scared, and I don’t know what to do. And I really, really need you with me. Because whenever I don’t know what I’m going to do, I find you and you make it better. So wake up, Roman. Wake up and make it better.”
His heart shattered into countless jagged pieces. If only he could do what she needed him to; he would give anything to have that power.
But he didn’t. He had made his choice, as painful as it was. And he couldn’t change it now, regardless of how much he wished to do so.
“I can’t,” he said, and he could feel the pull of the pavement. It was calling to him, urging him to jump and meet it.
He held off as best he could. Who knew if she would be here when things reset? And, if nothing else, just seeing her for as long as he could was something worth fighting for.
“I want to, Juju. More than anything, I want to give you what you need. But this is what my life is now. There’s no way around it.”
“Except there is,” she said, stepping closer. “The ancestors—I can understand them now. And they told me that, if I tied myself to you, I could bring you out of this.”
“Or you could doom yourself to this, tie yourself to me in an endless loop of hell,” he answered, shaking his head. “I love you too much to let you try.”
“I love you too much to give a damn about what you want,” she shot back. “We don’t get to pick what sacrifices people make for us, Roman. We just don’t.”
“I do,” he answered. “At least here.”
“Roman—”
“You can’t tie yourself to me without my compliance,” he continued. “The dark magic coursing through me makes sure of that. It’s impenetrable. No one gets in unless I say so. And baby, for your own good, I don’t say so.”
“Don’t fight me on this, Roman Blackwood,” she said, more pleading than he was comfortable with in her voice.
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he said firmly. “No fighting, baby. None at all.”
“Roman, you can’t just—”
Wind howled around them, carrying a voice. “Leave the boy be.”
He recognized the tone before he even saw the originator standing behind Julia, and it sent shivers through his body.
The Crawley.
She rocked in the same old chair, knitting on the same old scarf. Her eyes were still as white as her hair, and her face was as wrinkled as it had been back in the woods.
“He’s made up his mind, young lady. I think we both know he’s not the type to change it.” A toothless grin spread across her face. “But there are other ways, other ways to get what we need.”
“Get away from her!” Roman said, still unable to move and feeling the urge to jump stronger than ever. “Julia, don’t listen to her!”
“Who…who is this?” Julia asked, looking from Roman to the Crawley and back again.
“Just an old woman, Ms. Fairweather. An old woman who knows what it means to hurt,” she said. She set her knitting in her lap and stared at Julia. “I’ve seen a lot of love in my lifetime, but I can honestly say that I’ve never seen anything like the one that exists between the two of you. Hearts that beat in twain and all that. But you’re cursed, the both of you. Your stars are in conflict with your souls. And we all know how that turns out. It would do this old woman’s heart good to set things right for you, to give you a way to undo all the hurt and pain.”
“Julia, listen to me! Wake up! Wake up right now!” Roman shouted.
Julia’s eyes glazed over. “This is…this woman…”
“Is a Romani demon or something,” Roman said. “Honest to God, I haven’t figured it out.”
“What’s there to figure out?” asked the Crawley. “I’m a woman with a soft spot for young lovers and a specific set of skills. Let’s not make more of it than what it is.”
“Can you do it though?” Julia asked. “Can you fix this?”
“Julia don’t,” Roman shouted.
“My mother is in pain.”
“She’s dying, yes. But she doesn’t have to be. And he’s stuck here, but that doesn’t have to be, either,” the Crawley lied. “I can fix it all, and I’ll be happy to.” She grinned again. “For a price.”
“A price?” Julia asked.
“Just a favor. Nothing much. Why, if I had the power to do it myself, I would. But the magic works in the barter, you see. I can’t give unless I get. I’m afraid that’s the way it is.”
“She’s lying to you, Julia,” Roman said through his teeth.
“Probably,” Julia said, still looking at her. “But what choice do I have. I can’t lose my mother, I can’t lose the coven, and I won’t lose you.” She turned back to the Crawley. “So yes. If you can do what you say you can, then whatever the price is, I’ll pay it.”
“Julia!” Roman screamed, but she wasn’t listening. She just walked straight to the Crawley.
“Let’s talk, Ms. Fairweather,” the Crawley said, staring right at Roman with blind, vacant eyes.
He called helplessly after Julia not to go through with it.
But she did.
In the blink of an eye, both she and the Crawley were gone.
And then the compulsion hit it’s hardest, and Roman jumped off the building again.
Chapter 23
Julia woke again, but not on the bed beside Roman. Instead, she was running full-tilt through the woods.
Her feet were bare. The trail of her dress drug against the forest floor, staining the white with brown and green.
Sweat ran down her face, and her lungs burned as she struggled to catch her breath.
How long had she been running like this? And where the hell was she going?
All that had just happened slammed against her brain like a sixteen-wheeler hitting a wall at full speed.
Roman was suffering. He was in pain, just like Mother. And Julia had to put a stop to it.
It was about more than marrying Paris now. Even if she did that, Cassandra either wouldn’t have the power or would refuse to help Roman out of the situation he had found himself in.
No. He hadn’t found himself in it. He had thrown himself into it face first in a wild attempt to help Julia fix what she had done.
And for what. In the end, Julia would just be trading her life for her mother’s. Cassandra wanted her dead, and she would be foolish to think anything that had happened was going to change that now.
She had to fix things for Roman, though. Otherwise, he would suffer through fifty years of constant agony and turmoil.
The only one who could save him from that fate—if she was even telling the truth—was the powerful old woman Julia had met in Roman’s dream.
Of course, she had no idea whether it was true or not. The look on Roman’s face said that he recognized her, that she was the sort of being that was to be feared and taken seriously.
And she had forced her way into Roman’s head, something Julia had only managed to do with the help of the whispering ancestors.
True or not, possible or not, this
was a chance. And it was the only one Julia had. Except now she didn’t know what she was doing or where that woman was.
Julia kept running, farther and farther into the woods. Though she could have stopped herself, there was an impulse pounding through her veins, driving her forward and pushing her deeper into the wilderness.
Suddenly, the woman appeared in front of Julia. She was knitting some seemingly never-ending blanket, rocking back and forth in her chair.
Julia pulled to a stop, her lungs near bursting at the strain.
“Good to see you again, Ms. Fairweather,” the old woman said, directing her toothy grin right at Julia. “I didn’t expect you so soon, but then again, I guess love can be a hell of a motivator.”
Julia breathed hard and heavy. Sweat pooled on her forehead and glistened across her arms. “I didn’t…I didn’t know I was on the way.”
The old woman tilted her head. “I suppose the subconscious can be more powerful than we give it credit for.” She started rocking again. “But so can the heart.”
“You said you can help me,” Julia pressed.
“Of course I can, Ms. Fairweather. I’m the Crawley, don’t you know.”
“Actually, I didn’t know,” Julia answered. “But I also have no idea what that means. So if you could just tell me what needs to happen to free Roman from that pocket of hell, I’d really appreciate it.”
“And if I was a better woman, maybe your appreciation would be enough for me. Unfortunately, that’s not the case.” The Crawley smacked her gums, producing a sickeningly wet sound from her mouth. “You’ve got a really specific skill set, Ms. Fairweather. And, given your connection to those that came before, I think you might be able to succeed where others have failed.”
“Tell me what you need,” she said, pushing back the thought that, if he were here, Roman would still be begging her not to do this.
She couldn’t think about that now though. All she needed to motivate her was the fact that the two people she cared about most in the world were in the worst pain imaginable and, if she couldn’t stop it, she would never see either of them again after today.
So yes, if Roman disagreed with this, Julia was okay with that. So long as he was here to do it.
“There’s something I need,” the woman said. “A bobble, a trinket. It’s not much, but it’s important to me.”
Julia narrowed her eyes. Many had failed to get a trinket? “What is it?”
“Something that was taken from me a long time ago, something I won’t be able to rest without.” The Crawley nodded. “Your boyfriend almost had it before, but he didn’t take into consideration just how much his opposition was willing to do to keep it safe.”
“That’s what Roman was after when Adam died, wasn’t it? The trinket, whatever it is you’re looking for, it was on one of my family’s boats.”
“Was being the operative word, Ms. Fairweather,” said the Crawley. “Your boyfriend triggered a failsafe that whisked my property away.”
“And threatened to take out half the city with it,” Julia shot back.
“Witches are far too thorough for the likes of a plain old woman like me.”
Julia winced. She might not know too much about what she was involved in right now, but all she had to do was look at the Crawley to know she was anything but a plain old woman.
“The point is, that’s not where it is anymore,” the Crawley finished.
“So where is it?” Julia asked.
“On a different plane,” the Crawley said simply. “One that can only be accessed by someone with your blood and the know-how to use it correctly.” The rocking chair stopped short and, though she had no pupils to speak of, Julia could have sworn the old woman’s eyes were trained on her soul. “There is a secret room within the energy that binds your family to each other. In the power that ignites your blood, there are bindings. And, within those bindings, lies a door. Only a Fairweather with enough finesse and ability may travel to that room. And only one with the grace of the saints on her side may actually unlock it. Do you think you’re that person, Julia Fairweather?”
And there it was, the reason Roman didn’t want her to come here. He’d warned her that the Crawley would ask something of her, that she would require something major.
But what Julia needed was major, perhaps the most major favor she had ever needed. So why not give something to get it? It only seemed fair.
Julia leaned forward on the balls of her feet. Anger and resentment blossomed in her chest, along with a healthy dose of pride. “No offense, Crawley, but I sort of have to be, don’t I?”
The Crawley unleashed a toothless smile. “There’s that fire we need.”
“How do I get there?” Julia asked, marching toward the old woman.
“The only way you get anywhere of importance,” the Crawley said in a singsong voice. “The quickest route available.”
The old woman pointed to the ground, and the chair began rocking again.
Knowing she wanted her to sit, Julia pulled up the end of her ruined wedding dress and slumped to the ground.
“Go to the place you need to, Ms. Fairweather,” the Crawley said, knitting away.
“I can’t,” she said. “You haven’t told me how.”
“I told you that it was your place, that only you could get there? How in seven deadly sins would you expect me to be able to give you directions to a place I’ve never be able to find?”
“But if you can’t—”
“The subconscious, Ms. Fairweather; as I told you, it’s a powerful thing. And it’ll take you where you need to go. Especially with all you’ve got at stake. Just close your eyes and let it happen.”
Not knowing what else to do, Julia did as the old woman asked. She closed her eyes and opened her mind up to all she had to lose.
There was Roman, jumping off that building over and over again for the next half century. There was Mother, slowly dying in agonizing pain under the merciless thumb of someone Julia would have considered her best friend just hours ago.
That was all she needed.
A whoosh of energy crackled around her. Though she didn’t open her eyes, she could feel the world melt away beneath her.
The blood rushed from all her appendages, leaving them cold and detached. A shiver ran down her spine, causing her to shudder and cry out. And, when her eyes flung open, she found herself in a place she had never been before.
She stood, taking it all in as she spun around.
The cave stretched out in every direction as far as the eye could see. Though it should have been dark, the entire place was illuminated by a light Julia couldn’t see the source of.
It didn’t matter, though. That wasn’t what struck her. What really made this place stand out, what made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up, was how at home she felt.
It was as though she had been born here, like this had been one of her old playrooms in a past life she couldn’t remember. But it hadn’t been. She had never been here. She had never even been anywhere like this place.
Julia hated enclosed places. She liked the open air and the sky visible above her. That was part of the reason Iowa clicked with her the way it had.
But she couldn’t deny it. This place scratched an itch in her she didn’t even know she had.
And then she heard them.
The ancestors had never been this loud or clear. Even when they had become audible, they didn’t sound like this.
It was as though they were around her now, surrounding her like friends, like family. No longer were they distant voices in her head. She could feel them, their energy and their scents.
And they were pushing her forward, telling her that what she was looking for was just around the next corner.
As she rounded it, still amazed at how warm and inviting this cave was, she saw it.
Lit even brighter than the rest of this place, an urn sat on a counter pressed up against the wall.
This was it. This was what
The Crawley wanted. For whatever reason, this was important to her, important enough to do the impossible and release Roman from the hell he was now enduring.
Not about to let it slip through her fingers, Julia rushed toward the stupid thing, but the air got thicker and thicker as she approached. Damn it. Whoever put this thing here—likely Cassandra—had spelled it so that getting to it would be damn near impossible.
She didn’t count on Julia Fairweather, though.
“Enough!” Julia screamed, listening to a spell the ancestors spoken plainly to her mind.
The air thinned to normal, and Julia rushed toward the urn. As she reached for it, she could feel a foreign energy radiating off it. It was troubling, but she couldn’t afford to think about that or let it stop her.
Her hand touched the urn, and a shock of power flowed through her. Her mind’s eye opened, and she saw everything that had led her here.
The urn was filled with the ashes of a Romani woman who had been born over two hundred years ago. The power flowing through her made her strong but not immortal. And, when she died, there were camp wars fought over her remains and the power they contained. For decades, this very urn was battled for, moved back and forth. Until last year, when Cassandra got ahold of it.
That woman was the Crawley and, unless she was probably laid to rest, she would never be able to sleep.
“She just wants to move on,” Julia said to herself.
But the visions weren’t over. She saw Cassandra, the venom in her voice and the temper in her face that Julia had somehow missed. She never knew how jealous her cousin had been of her, how threatened she was. She watched as Cassandra sabotaged her at every turn and, in the end, she watched as she cursed her with madness.
Julia gasped as she realized what had happened.
When she lost her mind last year—when she tried to end it all after losing Roman—that wasn’t her own mind’s fragility screwing with her. It was Cassandra. It was a spell meant to make Julia look unfit to lead the Moon Coven. It was an act of war and a surgical cut in a chess game Julia had no idea she was playing.
Moon Coven: a Paranormal Witch Romance Page 18
