Page 2 of The Damned (Coven of Bones #3)

M A R G O T

The weight of my mother’s gaze never left me during the class that had long ago become the bane of my existence.

Growing up under the thumb of my aunt, the Erotes Tribunal member, was no easy task, but it meant that I already knew all the theology surrounding our magic and the ways that it worked.

While my aunt was the Erotes Tribunal member, she hadn’t had children of her own so she and my mother had taken it upon themselves to work in tandem when it came to my education.

That was knowledge she often used to her advantage, asking me for answers that she knew I had when others wouldn’t. While the Reds as a whole were more sexually liberated than many of the families within the Coven, that didn’t mean that all of them were quite as encouraging as my mother had been.

She’d known even from a young age that I wasn’t like the rest, that my magic had a darker nature than many of the others’.

They could control the pull in their songs, having to expend effort and magic in order to allow that magic to seep beneath someone’s skin and claim them from the inside, until their body was only an instrument to be used.

I’d never had a choice, never had the option to reject the magic that so easily pulsed at my fingertips. It was in everything I touched, in everything I did, and in every word I sang.

It was the reason I refused all invitations to join the choir that occupied most of the Reds’ free time, the reason I often kept to myself in the library instead of spending time with my peers. They didn’t understand the weight of that magic and what it meant for me.

They didn’t understand how it had come to be my curse.

“Are you even listening, Margot?” my mother asked, forsaking the general understanding that even when teaching their own offspring, they are meant to keep a certain level of distance from their progeny.

Here, I wasn’t supposed to be Fritha Erotes’s eldest daughter, daughter of the next heir to the Erotes Tribunal seat, as my aunt who currently occupied that seat had no children of her own.

Here, I was supposed to be a cool, collected Miss Erotes, like so many of the others who occupied the class alongside me—cousins and second cousins and family members who descended from the same line but had merged far enough back that it became impossible to keep track.

The Peabody legacies sat on the other side of the classroom, the divide between the two more evident than ever.

“Yes, ma’am,” I said, giving a meek nod of my head as I looked down at the book in front of me.

A quick glance to my cousin Belva beside me confirmed that I was six pages behind, lost to my own thoughts.

Even before I’d noticed my mother staring at me, it had been a certain red-eyed archdemon who occupied my mind.

Seeing him in the courtyard the night before had kept me awake all night, and I knew half my mother’s anger was probably for what she saw as my lackluster appearance in the wake of that.

The first rule of Reds was that appearance was everything, and one couldn’t use magic to replace a good night’s sleep and a few extra moments of care in the morning.

“Then explain to me the exact functioning of the cone of power and the ways that we use that for the ultimate power manifestation,” she said, making my cheeks flush with heat as all eyes turned to me.

Goddess, sometimes I wished I had a normal relationship with my mother where discussing these things was uncomfortable for all involved and not just me.

“When utilizing the cone of power, a witch stores all the magic that she has accumulated during sex, from both her and her partner’s desire, within her body until the point of climax is reached.

At that point, she uses her body as a conduit and sends it into the universe, making her intentions clear as she does and using it to fuel the spell so that her desired outcome can come to pass,” I said, the words almost verbatim from the textbook in front of me.

It didn’t matter that I wasn’t even turned to the proper page, not when those words had been drilled into my brain from the time I turned eighteen and my mother expressed her disappointment that I wasn’t showing signs of interest in any of the extracurricular activities my peers had already begun to engage in.

My mother nodded, turning away from me and continuing on about her lesson that I’d already heard countless times. I heaved a sigh of relief the moment her attention was elsewhere, my thoughts immediately returning to the danger waiting for me.

I didn’t know how long it would take for the archdemon to show his face in my life, but I knew the song would demand it of him. He wouldn’t be able to stay away, and that was the consequence of my taking a moment to sing.

I’d been too afraid to venture out to the outskirts of the school, to run along the edge of the woods until I was far enough from listening ears that I could sing freely. I’d thought the witches had all gone to bed and that maybe I would be safe in that abandoned courtyard so late at night.

Instead, I’d managed to entrap one of the greatest dangers to my well-being. I didn’t even know which archdemon he was, having never paid as much attention to my schooling when it came to the history of the Coven. If it had been a few days prior, I might have turned to Willow for advice.

But my friend had enough to worry about with the devil claiming to be her husband. The last thing she needed was to worry about my safety.

The bell rang, sounding the end of the last class of the day. It seemed stupid to continue with our education like our entire world hadn’t just turned upside down, like the devil and His archdemons didn’t walk the earth for the first time in history.

None of us knew what that meant for the future of the Coven, for the future of the witches who called Hollow’s Grove home. For all we knew, this could very well be our last day to live. It felt like a day that should be spent with loved ones, a last opportunity before it was all torn away.

Instead, Hollow’s Grove once again forced us to prioritize our education because, as the future of our kind, knowing how our magic worked was of the utmost importance.

Yet, if Willow was to be believed, we’d long since lost the true nature of our magic.

Her Green magic had brought the plant life around us back in a way I’d never seen; I was so used to the husked and half-dead plants that I’d never even questioned what they were meant to look like.

I moved to pack up my textbook, sliding it into my bag as my mother’s lithe form stepped in front of me.

She rapped her knuckles on the surface twice, her nails painted a glossy fire-engine red as I froze in place.

“I’d like to speak with you before you bolt out of my classroom,” she said, turning her back on me quickly and making her way to her desk.

As the other students filed out, I dropped my book bag on top of my desk and rose from my seat carefully, making my way to her. It was another one of her power plays to make me go to her when she’d been standing at my desk only a moment before. Another in a long list of games.

“You look like Hell,” she said, not wasting any time before the criticism began.

She took her eyes from me as soon as she said the words, picking up a pen from her desk and grading papers while I stood there beneath her judgment.

The door hadn’t even swung closed yet, meaning that the nosy students who waited just beyond it could hear my ridicule, but my mother didn’t care.

“Your image is a direct reflection on this family. What have I told you about stepping outside of your room without taking care to make sure you represent us properly?”

The sad reality was that I’d done everything I could to make myself meet her standards. I’d woken up before the sun rose even though I’d only just managed to fall asleep, showered and styled my hair, done my skincare with the ointments the Reds were so proud of producing to keep aging at bay.

But nothing could erase the circles from beneath my eyes.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I said, even knowing it wouldn’t be enough of an excuse in her mind.

“Are you having nightmares again?” she asked, referencing the days when I’d go to her the morning after Itan visited me, telling her about what he’d done.

She’d brushed them off as nightmares, figments of my overactive imagination that were only natural considering the pure volume of magic at my fingertips.

“No,” I said, changing the subject quickly.

I didn’t want another reminder of the reality that my own mother didn’t believe me, that she’d sooner believe I had hallucinated my abuse than suspect one of the Tribunal members of being capable of such a crime.

“I was afraid. Something happened last night. I made a mistake and—”

Her mahogany gaze that was so like mine met mine suddenly, her pen dropping to the paper as she glared.

“What did you do now?” she asked, the words said from between clenched teeth.

Her fingers tapped on the surface of the desk impatiently, waiting for me to give the words that she was so certain would be a disappointment to her.

Just like me.

“I sang in the courtyard last night. I needed the release with everything going on and the way that everything feels now that Lucifer is here,” I said, referencing the way magic seemed to pulse off of everyone.

I didn’t know if it was just the increase in tension making people wish for more enjoyable releases or the presence of Him in general, but I felt like magic seeped into my bones no matter where I was or what I did.

I’d needed to release some of it the only way I was willing.