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

“You could have just taken a partner to your bed like the rest of us,” my mother said, sighing her disappointment.

“You know that Keane would be more than willing to accommodate you in that way before your handfasting.” The reminder of the betrothed the Covenant had chosen for me at a young age was like being dropped into an ice bath.

It wasn’t even that Keane was unattractive or cruel or any of the things that should have made me dread our union.

He was one of the kindest men I’d encountered in the Coven, a Peabody witch who had sacrificed his magic when the Covenant offered to match him with me.

The other girls had all fawned over him, telling me how lucky I was to have secured such a match.

For all purposes, I should have been thrilled with it. I should have been able to feel the affection for him that he so obviously held for me, following me around like a lovesick puppy for years until he finally began to keep his distance because of my discomfort.

But I didn’t feel it. I had long since begun to suspect that I couldn’t feel anything more than a general knowledge that someone was attractive.

Something so important was just missing within me, making me incapable of feelings of desire and love and all the warmth that I could have potentially gained from the nature of my magic.

“Well, I didn’t,” I snapped, immediately regretting the tone when my mother’s gaze hardened into the one that threatened punishment for my attitude.

In our world, it didn’t matter that I was twenty years old and a grown-ass woman, she would always be my elder as a future Tribunal member and matriarch of our line.

“Who heard you?” she asked, preparing to do damage control if I’d accidentally spelled someone within the Coven. While it wasn’t illegal, it was frowned upon to use our magic against those in higher positions of authority than us.

I swallowed. “One of the archdemons…” I said, letting the words trail off as her head tilted to the side in thought.

Her face was carefully blank as she studied me, all traces of anger gone from her features. “Do you know which one?” she asked, and I shook my head.

I didn’t know his name. Didn’t know which of the creatures I’d bound to myself.

“The winged one with the Enochian tattoos on his chest. Red eyes,” I said, offering the simplest explanation I could.

I didn’t think my mother would have noted the way his deep brown hair was the same length as mine, pulled back into a bun at the back of his head.

I didn’t think she would have noted the strength in his square jaw, the way the harsh lines of his features were brutal and beautiful all at once, his eyebrows two angry slashes that had softened for me.

“Beelzebub,” she said, picking up her pen and using it to draw Enochian symbols on her notepad.

They were the same ones I’d seen on the archdemon’s chest the night before, and I nodded when I recognized them.

“Did he seem affected by your song?” She lowered her pen slowly, as if she didn’t dare to move too quickly.

I thought back to the night before, wondering if I’d misread the situation. If I had merely assumed that he was under my spell when he wasn’t affected, but the memory of him calling me songbird was a whisper in my mind, the sound of his deep, guttural voice like a caress on my skin.

I shivered in response to the sound of it, remembering the way it had felt in that moment.

I’d never felt such a thing in my life, never heard a voice so deep and harsh but somehow gentle before.

The way he’d reached for me when I tried to leave, seeming at war with himself for a moment, before he respected my wishes.

He’d let me leave.

“I think so,” I said, answering her question as best as I could.

I couldn’t make myself share the nickname with her, feeling as if that was something better kept between he and I for the time being.

It felt intimate, like something he hadn’t given freely but that I’d stolen from him with the magic in my voice.

A name I hadn’t earned, that didn’t need to be claimed.

My mother’s face spread into a broad grin the likes of which I’d never seen, making her face transform into the beauty I knew she was capable of when she was surrounded by people she liked.

I just wasn’t among them.

“Oh, Margot, that’s wonderful!” she said, standing and stepping around the side of her desk. She came to me, cupping my face in gentle, soft hands so tenderly that everything within me clenched. I wanted to retreat from the unnatural touch, from the glee and pride in her face.

I’d done something horrible, and that was the thing that made my mother happy.

“It is?” I asked, swallowing back the venom in my words. Arguing with her that it was monstrous would do me no good, not with the way she stared at me like I’d given her hope.

“You’ve ensnared Lucifer’s second-in-command.

If you and Willow can work together, then this could give us an edge.

You’ll have Beelzebub wrapped around your finger in no time if you keep singing for him now that you have him on the hook.

I’ll be sure to let the other Reds know that the song works, and maybe we can pull the others under our control as well,” she said, trailing off as she left me to return to the papers she needed to grade, the moment passed.

“But that’s horrible,” I said, thinking of how dangerous the situation was.

If Beelzebub became too addicted to my magic, if I brought him further under my spell, it was only a matter of time before he wanted to act on that spell.

“You’re talking about intentionally taking away their free will.

I didn’t mean to do this, but if they seek the archdemons out… ”

“Oh, Margot, don’t be so dramatic,” she said finally, waving her hand to dismiss me. I’d served my purpose, and now she was done with me. “They’re archdemons. They don’t have feelings.”

I nodded as I grabbed my book bag off my desk, retreating from the room as quickly as I could. My mother might have claimed it didn’t matter because they lacked feelings, but I knew well enough to know that even someone broken and devoid of warmth would feel the violation that this was.

I certainly had.