Page 78 of The Cursed Chalice

Shit, I was about to get a husband…again. But this time I feel less stressed. I sit in the tub as Hecate pours water over my head. My skin prickles, as if electricity dances on it and then goes away. She takes a jar of something that smells like mint and begins to scrub my skin with it.

Then, she pours another jar over my head. She whispers under her breath, as if she is praying. For a millisecond, I feel like the water clings to my skin longer than it should have. Ichuckle to myself. Maybe she’s marking me or cleaning Elias’s juju away. Either way, slowly, I start to relax.

It feels like I’m being blessed with the scrub and lotion that she places on my skin.

“Stand and rest on the marble slab.” I skip out of the tub and lie on the slab.

It’s euphoric. Hecate scrubs me down again. I fall asleep. I wake up as she’s drying my skin. Sitting up slowly, I feel like I slept for hours. Hecate dries my hair and adds perfumed oil to it.

My body feels relaxed and limp. Hecate places my arms in a robe and pulls it to my body.

“Let’s go behind the last curtain.”

As the curtain moves to the side, my breath is taken away by the delicate white dress falling gracefully over a mannequin.

“This is traditional Greek wedding wear.” Hecate’s hands trace the saffron-colored veil and the wrist wreath made of roses entwined with gold. I inhale because the reality was settling in my mind.

“This is beautiful, Hecate.”

Hecate smiles proudly. “And it will be even more beautiful with you in it.” I look at the dress, loving the gold embroidery at the ends. My stomach churns because the dress feels like more. It feels like I’m saying goodbye to my old life and stepping temporarily into a new one.

“You know you’re pussy-whipped, right?” Deimos says with his leg thrown over the armrest as he eats grapes. I choose to ignore him and focus on fixing my cufflinks.

Phobos studies his fingers. “How is your little piece from the Caribbean? Maybe I can pay her a visit.”

Deimos sits up and slowly takes his leg down. “What did you just say to me?”

Phobos shrugs as he ties the laces on his shoes. “I said your girl in the Caribbean. I want to visit her.”

Deimos’s face goes blank. “How the hell do you know about her?”

Phobos dusts his foot and sits up. “What’s her name? Tina, Tia, Tanya? I know it starts with a T. Either way, I want a piece of her.”

Deimos stands and walks over to Phobos, who is now sitting spread-eagle on the armchair. “How much does she charge, by the way?”

“I will slap you at full speed and reboot your whole fucking system.” Deimos’s fist clenches.

“Because I asked you for her price? I just want to know how well she fu—” Before Phobos can continue, Deimos pulls his fistback and cracks Phobos on the chin. Phobos falls to the floor, and a sinister chuckle leaves him.

“Who is pussy-whipped now, brother?” Phobos spits out blood and wipes his lips.

I sigh. “Boys. Don’t bleed on my floor if you’re about to fight.”

“Well, tell him to shut the hell up.” Deimos’s chest rises and falls as he stares down at Phobos.

“I didn’t do anything wrong. All I said was…”

Deimos looms over Phobos, his eyes daring him to say more. Then he steps back and goes to his chair. It’s interesting that the playboy has a hidden treasure of his own.

“Freedom of speech doesn’t mean freedom of consequences, Phobos.” The reflection of the man staring back at me is perfect and composed. All a fucking lie. Inside there is a quiet storm. I am about to get married. To bind myself in a ceremony meant for love. Do I love her? I care for her. I care enough to marry her. To make sure that she is safe. But is she safe from me? No. The sad part is, she will never know until it’s too late.

“I’m going downstairs into the garden. Go get her in five minutes. I will get Nisa.”

“You scrotum-neck motherfucker. I’ll deal with you after the wedding,” Deimos sneers.

Phobos smirks, “Oh look, Deimos, you are giving my middle finger an erection.”

They both disappear.