Page 44

PIPER

T he door closes behind me, and I slowly spin in a circle.

It’s literally a large closet with white walls and nothing else in it.

Not a bucket or a hanger on the wall. I turn back toward the door, but it’s gone.

My heart kicks up in my chest. I run my hand over the wall, where just moments before, there was a door, but it’s smooth plaster now.

“Hello?” I cry out, trying to keep the fear from my voice. Is this like an escape room and the challenge is to figure out hidden clues to let myself out?

“Hi.”

I spin around, hand clutching my chest to make sure my heart doesn't beat out of it. My eyes dart around the room. Before, where there had been a small closet with plain white walls, is now a cozy library with a fire snapping warmly in a fireplace. Dark bookshelves wrap around the walls, and overstuffed chairs are situated in front of the fire. There’s a warm glow to the room.

It reminds me of the library at Ambrose’s house.

An overly loud throat clearing snags my attention. Sitting in one of the chairs, clutching her dragon-headed cane, is Fitz.

“Hmm, this is much nicer than the peaceful place your uncle imagined.” Fitz shudders.

“What?”

She waves her cane in a circle, nearly smacking into me. “The room. It’s from your imagination.”

I gather my bearings, putting together pieces of what she’s saying. This room is magicked to transform, and I’ve created this out of my thoughts. I wonder what Tucker’s room was like.

No, I don’t want to know.

“Sit down. You’re getting my anxiety up standing over me like that.” Fitz whips her long white braid over her shoulder and settles back into the chair.

I round the other chair and sink down into it. If this wasn’t a challenge, I’d be tempted to grab a book off one of the shelves, snuggle in to read, and maybe take a nap.

“Are you helping with the challenge?”

“No, I’m here for my mental health. What do you think?” Fitz chastises. She fiddles with the head of her cane, like she’s petting the dragon. I hardly ever see her where she isn't creating a spell or punishing someone in some way. It’s unsettling.

“Did you join the coven?” Fitz and Morty are the only two witches in town who were never part of a coven. Maybe now that the Tenebris and Lumen covens have combined into one they’ll join.

“I don’t play well with others. So, no. But I do enjoy interrogating people.”

“Is that what this is?” Is the final challenge getting Fitz’s approval? Because if that’s the case, then I don’t think anyone will pass.

She shrugs. “It could be.”

I have no idea what I’m supposed to do. Fitz is staring at me, and I’m not bold enough to stare right back at her.

She probably has some Medusa power anyway, and I’d turn to stone if I looked too long.

Instead, I gaze at the flickering flames.

Whatever this magic is, it’s incredible.

I feel the heat of the fire. The softness of the chair’s fabric beneath my fingers.

The room even smells faintly like Ambrose.

Fitz grunts, stomps her cane against the ground, and stands up with a loud groan. “That’s it for me, then.”

“Wait, what?” I turn in my chair. “Where are you going? You said you had questions for me.”

“No, that’s what you assumed.” Fitz smiles at me, a twinkle in her eye that’s far too mischievous. I blink and she’s disappeared.

Spinning in my seat, I scan the room. Fitz is gone, but so is the door. I’m trapped in this room, alone. The fire snaps cheerfully in the fireplace. Flopping back into my chair, I close my eyes. I rub between my brows, feeling a headache from exhaustion begin to pound behind my eyes.

“You look stressed.”

My eyes snap open to the sight of a young woman sitting in Fitz’s recently vacated spot.

She’s young, probably fourteen or fifteen.

She reminds me a lot of Penelope, Josephine’s little sister.

Except her hair is flaming red, just like mine.

That’s where our similarities end. She doesn’t look like I did at that age.

She’s not meek or shy. She stares me straight in the eyes with a soft smile on her face.

“What?” I blink away the fog and shake my head.

“It’s been a long day, huh?” the young woman asks.

I look around the room again, trying to figure where she came from. “Where did Fitz go? Who are you?”

The young woman shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s magic,” she replies, as if that’s a sufficient answer.

She stares at me, and I wonder if I’m supposed to ask her questions. If I ask her to help me get out of here, will she? Does she even know how?

“Who are you?”

“Eden,” she states, like that explains everything. “It’s almost my sixteenth birthday,” she says, as though this isn’t the strangest conversation.

“Happy birthday,” I offer, more confused than anything.

“Thank you.” She’s wearing jeans and a t-shirt, looking casual. She crosses her legs and hooks her fingers around her knee. “I have a proposition for you.”

Those words send a tingle of warning down my spine. For a moment, I forgot I was in the middle of a challenge, but her words are the reminder that I need. I don’t know who she is, but this is still a test.

“What is your proposition?”

“This trial is all about sacrifice.” She may be young, but there’s something almost ageless about the green eyes looking back at me.

“What kind of sacrifice?” I don’t know what it is they want me to do.

I’ve been hopeful that Lucida has the right vision in mind for our coven, but there have been a lot of shitty things that have happened with the council in the past. And if they want me to do something immoral just for a place on the council.

Screw that. I want to help people, but not by destroying something else.

Eden looks around the room, as if seeing it for the first time. She smiles at a wood carving of a squirrel before she explains. “Would you give up your place on the council to reverse my curse?”

“What do you mean?” I’m immediately on alert. Who is she? The firstborns of the most powerful families in Mystic Hollows are the ones who suffer from curses. She must be the oldest of one such family.

“I’ll be sixteen in less than a month. Soon my curse will take hold. Bargains have been made, and if you agree to give up your seat on this council, I’ll be free from my curse.”

I frown at the girl. “I don’t know if they told you, but there’s no way to break the curse if it’s been passed down to you.”

“Well, that’s not true.” Eden raises a delicate brow. “I know for a fact that two of your friends have had their curses broken.”

“There was a fated bond. True love. No witch in this coven can wave their hand and break your curse. I’m sorry.” I truly am. I know how awful having a curse is.

Tears swim in her eyes. “So you’re saying you won’t give up your seat on this council to cure my curse.”

I think about Ambrose’s mother passing along her curse, and then never being able to look at her son.

I think about my own father, not only passing along his curse to me, but adding another on top of it.

I never set out to join the coven council, but once I was picked, I had hopes that I could do something good for this community.

But who am I to say that this person isn’t the next leader?

That an act of kindness to her will spur her on to do incredible things for other people.

Maybe it’s just a drop in the pond, but those ripples can make waves eventually.

“Yes, I’ll give up my seat if it means you don’t have to suffer.” I mean the words. I can help the coven in other ways outside the council. I don’t have to have a seat in the inner circle to do good.

The girl smiles at me. “You don’t even know what my curse is.”

“It doesn’t matter. Any of us with a curse have been forced to suffer unspeakable things. I wouldn’t wish that on anyone.”

The girl’s smile drifts away. “What if instead I could reverse your curse?”

My curse will eventually kill me. The painful bouts of sickness will only get longer, and inevitably, there will be more bad days than good until I’m so sick my body will cease to work. The pain will literally kill me.

“And what is the price for that?” I ask. The fire is still burning brightly, but I shiver, feeling cold. A finger of dread traces up my spine.

Eden’s eyes flutter, and she licks her lips. “Your curse will transfer to me.”

“This is hypothetical. Why bother asking these questions.” I shake my head.

“No, I have a potion created by a powerful witch.” She pulls a vial out of her jacket pocket. “Here.” She holds it out to me.

I eye it like it’s covered in hexes, but gently take it from her fingers.

“Smell it,” she prompts.

I don’t know what kind of spell would transfer a curse.

In hundreds of years, the only cure anyone found for the Briar Witch’s curse was to pass it along to their children.

Although I suppose this is another potion that passes the curse along.

It doesn’t eradicate it. It just makes it someone else’s burden.

I push the potion back to her. It doesn’t matter if this is real or not.

“No. I would rather give up my place on this council than give my curse to a child.”

“What if it went to someone else?” She leans forward, a twinkle in her eye.

I shouldn’t even entertain this hypothetical, but the question pops out before I stop to think. “Who?”

Eden tucks a strand of red hair behind her ear. The firelight makes the room glow, and everything is fuzzy and warm. She shrugs. “What if it went to your uncle?”

I pause, my answer stuck in my throat.

“Or some other horrible person who deserves to be punished.” Eden’s face is full of genuine concern, but what she’s saying is dark.

My brow furrows. “Who gets to determine that this person requires punishment?”

“Magic,” she says simply. “Maybe me. Maybe a stranger.”

What if Tucker did get my curse? He would know the pain of the illness that has affected me for half of my life. He would know his death is coming for him, sooner than later. He would suffer, like he’s made me suffer.

Would I take joy in that? Would that make me no better than the monster that he is?

He deserves to be punished; there’s no question in my mind about that.

But what if the curse didn't go to him? What if the magic passed it along to someone who didn’t deserve it?

What if it went to a child? That’s what my father did when he passed on his curse.

That’s how almost four hundred years later, the Briar Witch’s curse still lives on, when it could have died out in a generation.

All I’ve craved is freedom from oppression, from my curses.

I’ve almost fully succeeded, but at what cost?

I won’t curse someone else to free myself.

“No.” I may hate my uncle, but I refuse to live my life centered around him ever again. I won’t continue the cycle of egotistical self-importance.

Eden watches me, quiet for a moment, before she replies. “Very well. You may go.”

I frown and look around the room. “That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

“What now? Is there another part of the trial?” I stand up, surprised to see the doorway appearing once again.

“Now, you go. We’re done here.”