Page 48 of Enchantra (Wicked Games #2)

47

CORRESPONDENCE

Their story came in waves, like the colors of spring and the heat of the Louisiana summer.

But her memories did not.

Those first few weeks, Genevieve would wait for the mail to arrive, ripping open the sealed envelopes before they could even hit the front porch, desperate to read the tale of her time in Enchantra, and the wicked game they’d had to play. At first, she found herself gripped by his ability to make her feel known, seen, though she had no recollection of them ever meeting.

By the end of June, however, dread had set in. It was after he revealed to her the nature of their relationship. Their forced nuptials. Since then, it felt as if she had been punched in the gut every time a new letter arrived. She’d hoped that as more came, her memories might finally click into place, like puzzle pieces, and she’d feel whole again. But with each new bit of correspondence, the devastating longing had grown only worse.

But Genevieve felt neither affection nor hope for the faceless stranger sending the letters—her husband —no matter how much she wished she did. And she did wish. Desperately. For his sake, since she’d apparently cared enough for him that she let herself be killed to save his family. But her hope was also selfish, since the burning nightmares of Farrow had returned.

Now, she was lying in bed, at a quarter past noon, as she waited for the next letter. The one he said would be his last.

“Vivi?” Ophelia called from downstairs.

Genevieve squeezed her eyes shut for a long moment before hauling herself out of bed and making her way toward the stairs. As she descended, she watched as Salem brought over a very curmudgeonly-looking Poe to Ophie, who scratched the Ghost cat behind his ears. Ophelia smiled at the cat before letting Salem press a lingering kiss to her lips.

Genevieve cleared her throat as she stepped down into the foyer. “You called for me?”

Ophelia pulled away from Salem and reached out her arm. There was a parcel in her hand.

“This just came for you,” Ophelia said.

The package was addressed in his handwriting, but it was much thicker than all the rest of his letters had been. And when she tore into the parchment of its wrapping, she saw why. Inside, there was a small black box enclosed with his usual letter. Ophelia and Salem exchanged a curious look as Genevieve opened the box first.

Nestled inside was a golden cuff with the inscription the light is wherever you are .

Genevieve swallowed thickly.

Then she unfolded the letter.

Dear Genevieve,

The final part of our story is where things fall apart. When Knox confirmed that the Prince of the Devils was, in fact, connected to your sister, he became desperate to control you. And that made him vulnerable.

You came up with a plan that was almost perfect. No one gives you nearly enough credit for how well you extract information from people and retain it.

It was your visit to Knox’s trove that gave you the idea.

You wondered if we could leverage Knox’s greed so he would offer us all the one thing he knew we wanted most—our freedom from the Hunt. If we could convince him to try and keep your soul hostage, then he would want us to extract your soul rather than killing you. If we could place it in a Soul Lock and escape, your friend Salem could bring you back.

Extracting your soul would fulfill the technicality of his bargain, and we could all walk away.

So, we went to Grave. Which was a risk. But at the end of the day, my brother is still my brother. And you’re you. You convinced him we could pull this off. That he could plant the seed in Knox’s head—ironically thanks to the fact that he had nearly killed you so many times before. That if Knox agreed to set all of us free, it was time for him to make the right choice.

When I spoke to Ellin of your plan, she agreed to forfeit when she realized returning to Hell would mean she could get Wells and Sevin to help remove our mother from Knoxium. Knox would still be forced to complete his end of the bargain after the Hunt was over and give our mother the Fix, but at least she would no longer be in the Devil’s lair itself.

And so the last person we needed to convince of my betrayal was Knox himself. Just long enough for him to give Grave and me our magic.

Taking your soul was a risky move. Salemaestrus nearly killed Grave and me for delivering you to your home in such a state. I think only your sister convinced him to spare our lives.

But as well as our plan worked, Genevieve, there is one thing that went horribly wrong.

Salemaestrus did exactly what you suspected he could: extracted your soul from the Soul Lock and returned it to your corporeal form. I don’t think I’ve ever been in so much pain as I was in those minutes before your heart started beating again. But then it did and you woke up and you … did not recognize me. And that was nearly unbearable.

It is a cruel thing. To be looked on as a stranger by the one who knows you best. It is cruel that I was given a taste of what my eternity could have been filled with—your smile, your pleasure, your humor—only to have it ripped away from me in seconds.

It is cruel that if your memories never come back that it would only be fair to let you go.

The problem is, Genevieve, that I can’t.

That I never will.

And I know your memories have not come back even with these letters, and that means they likely never will. But I will never stop searching for a way to get them back for you. I will search for the rest of my eternity if I must, because it belongs to you already. I pledge it to you in my vows.

I understand if you do not feel the same. If you need to move on with your life. Our vows may have said “eternally,” but as I told you then, nothing is ever truly eternal.

Except my longing for you.

Sincerely,

Rowin