Page 30

Chapter 30

N one of this made sense.

How had Shawn Donnelly gotten in touch with my family? I had changed my name and sworn off going anywhere I might accidentally run into them.

"Did you think we'd just stop trying to get our powers back?" Louisa strode to a stop at Shawn's side. "Getting a little overconfident, aren't we?"

"You mean those letters our grandmother sent me? What are you all smoking? In what universe did you think even a heartfelt apology would make me purposefully step into your presence again?" I said. "You were all in on it. You all suppressed me because you were scared, and not one of you would even tell me why."

Louisa scoffed. "And what makes you think it's in your best interest to know?"

Lava erupted within me and I spit the embers out with every syllable. "It's my prophecy and none of you had any right to keep me locked up because of it, whether you told me or not."

None of Louisa’s arrogance had eroded away after all this time without her power. She was still the same little shit I had left behind the day I ran.

But the day I ran away, I wasn't this likely to punch her in the face.

Louisa leaned forward, her hands on her hips, and sporting a sneer that had me clenching my fists to stop myself from punching her in the face. "None of us were surprised when Romilda told us that bad things would happen if you ever learnt about the prophecy. I suppose that's just what happens when the unworthy are given power and confidence that they aren't entitled to."

The very word made the feeling of unworthiness trickle down the back of my throat like black poison ready to drag me back into the depths of depression and fear. I fought it. They didn't have the right to make me feel that way anymore. I wouldn't let them.

But how I felt would have to take a back seat. Without backup, and no powers except mine, they outnumbered me. Worse, nobody knew where I had gone. I had to get out of here. Whatever they had planned for me, it didn't involve me going to sleep in my own bed after a hot cup of cocoa.

I tapped into my power to see if Shawn had anything worth using. Louisa's power was safely tucked away in my private room, but surely he had something. I reached out with my power. Before I could figure out what it was, my power rocketed back at me, smashing into me so hard that it knocked me onto my backside.

Louisa's heels clattered in my direction and before I had time to react, she hurled a potion vial at me. I rolled to one side to avoid it, but it smashed on the pavement right next to my face. From the puddle on the asphalt, a strong odour rose and the second I had taken in a mouthful of it, my eyelids drooped.

No. They were not getting me. Not today or any other day.

I scrambled to my feet, but crashed back to my knees as all my muscles relaxed, ignoring the adrenaline that surged through me. The world turned black as the pavement rushed up to meet me.

The dull thump of a headache and the pulse in my temple entered my consciousness long before I attempted to prise my dry eyelids open. When I did, a little sleepy dust still clinging to eyelashes, the world was a blur I couldn't make out. The memories before I fell asleep were hazy. Perhaps they weren't really memories but just dreams, if I could even remember what they were.

I blinked to get my eyes to focus, and lifted my hand to rub them. But something tugged on my wrist, stopping my hand from reaching my face. I tried the other one, but the same thing happened. I was lying on something, perhaps a bed from the feel of a quilt beneath my fingertips.

A wave of claustrophobia enveloped me, shaking every granule of remaining sleep from my body, and I struggled to sit up.

Bending my head toward my hands, I rubbed my eyes clear and snapped my head up to finally see where I was.

Dread cascaded down my throat and into my stomach, dashing every smidgen of hope against the rocks. The mismatched discount furniture, the mirror on the wall with a crack in it, and the windows that had gem encrusted bars welded to their frames.

"No," I whispered, tears distorting my view of the place once more.

This had to be a nightmare. The number of times I dreamed of this place only to wake up safe in my bed; this had to be one of those times. What would I do if it wasn't?

This was the room I had spent my life in before Hecate and Asher had barrelled into my life and taken me with them. The place that my "family" had trapped me, never allowing me to leave, and making me 'earn my keep' by doing every little task they didn't feel like doing themselves. I had been a prisoner here until I was nearly in my twenties...and now, it seemed I was again.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I tugged at the manacles around my wrists, chained by a long, thick chain to the end of the bed. The sheets crinkled beneath me underneath the duvet, more plastic than cotton. I couldn't be here again. Who would even come for me or know where I was?

I crossed my legs and lowered my head down so far that my restrained fists supported my forehead, tears dropping onto my trousers. I had done this to myself. By getting into trouble with the Franklin family, I had given the Bishops a perfect opportunity to get what they wanted back from me.

Being back in this room made me want to vomit; my skin suddenly felt too tight, squeezing me to death from the inside.

Yet again, they had trapped me, and I still didn't know why. Straightening up a little, I wiped the tears from my face with my sleeves. I wouldn't become their slave like I had before; I would be the biggest pain in their asses no matter what they did to me. They'd rue the day they brought me back here.

The sound of the key in the lock made me flinch, and an irrational but long-familiar fear inked through my veins like a drug. The door swung open and Pearl Bishop stepped inside, holding a tray with a plate and a glass of water on it. My grandmother dressed the same as she had all those years ago; in a long skirt and white blouse, staring with grey eyes through a pair of half-moon spectacles attached to a beaded cord around her neck.

I met her gaze and stared her down as she approached, her silver perm bobbing a little with each step.

"I warned you," she said, setting the tray down in front of me. The plate held two pieces of buttered bread. "You should have come of your own free will."

"Why's that?" I asked, sarcasm leeching into my tone. "Because you'd have been slightly less abusive as a reward for my obedience?"

She straightened up and smoothed out her blouse, the pause that followed so icy that I could almost see my breath in the air. "You'll see. I've had a lot of time to come up with some ways to make you more compliant. Too much time out there in the world has turned you into a spoiled child, like I knew it would. It's your own fault that I have no choice but to persuade you back to your original state."

Just like always, she hadn't spoken a single harsh word and yet every one of them was laced with threats that she would follow through on. No matter how scared she made me, I wouldn't let her break me. I wasn't the girl I used to be, and nothing would put me back that way.

"You should probably eat something," she said, pointing to the tray. "It's the only mercy you will get in this house anymore."

"I don't understand what you want with me." I swallowed the poison that wanted to ink its way into my words. "Even if I gave you your stupid powers back, why are you obsessed with keeping me here?"

They didn't love me, nor did they want me, but not one of them had dropped a hint as to why they were so desperate to imprison me. Doing their chores and catering to their every whim was only a bonus; I knew there was more to it.

The corner of Pearl's eye twitched. "You're a danger to society, to yourself, and worst of all you're a danger to this family. I needn't say more."

"Oh, you need to say more," I said. "And don't think I won't fight you every step of the way until I get answers."

She rarely smiled, but in that moment, she graced me with a tiny uptick of the corner of her mouth. That alone held enough smugness to send me over the edge.

I grabbed the side of the tray with one hand and swept it off the bed. The tray clattered onto the bare floorboards, the plate smashing in two, and the glass launching against the wall, water dripping down the faded floral wallpaper. It was already peeling off the walls without the added moisture.

My grandmother didn't even flinch, but she stared at me over the top of her glasses. I stared back, my brow furrowed and my breathing increasingly laboured as my muscles strained against the restraints, urging me to break free. If only.

"You're a very lucky girl," she said, slowly. "Most families wouldn't have suffered you to live from the day you were born. And who could blame them?"

With that, she turned and left the room, locking the door behind her. My head fell into my hands once her footsteps had disappeared. As much as I wanted to maintain my defiance to her and everyone else under this forsaken roof, I could feel all hope draining out of me, like the water dripping between the floorboards.