8

CALLIE

I shift in my seat, conscious that everyone is looking at me like I'm some kind of messiah.

"But what does that mean?" My gaze flits between them all, trying to work out which of them is the most likely to explain it to me in words I can understand.

"What do you remember of your family, Callie?" Hank asks, pressing his hands together and leaning forward so his hands are resting on his knees. Suspicion is written all over his face, like he’s almost worked something out but isn’t completely sure yet. It doesn’t take a genius to work out it’s something about me, either.

"I told you, next to nothing." There are a few flashes here and there of memories I can never hold onto, but nothing that makes me certain they're real. The only lead I ever found was that my father had something to do with this town. It's one of the reasons I ended up here in the first place. I'm still not sure if that's going to turn out to be a good thing or a bad thing.

"Who was the woman in the photograph in the hall?" James asks suddenly. It takes me a moment to realize he's not asking me.

Fran frowns at him but doesn't clarify what he's talking about. "Phoebe's daughter," she whispers before giving me an appraising look. "You don't think?”

"It's the only explanation," James answers.

"I know, but after all these years?" Fran continues to stare at me even though she's talking to James. "She certainly looks right."

I jump to my feet, fed up with their crypticness. "Is one of you going to tell me what's going on?" I demand, putting my hands on my hips for dramatic effect. It's not a move I've had to pull much in my life, but it's one I'm damned good at, if I do say so myself.

"Sit down, Callie," Will tells me, tugging on the jacket I'm still wearing to illustrate his point. There's been no time to change into something more comfortable, and that actually covers me. Not when there's an important conversation I should be having instead.

Fran takes a deep breath. "What do you know about Phoebe's daughter?" she asks me.

I sit back down, already feeling calmer than I had before, even though I had no reason to. Is someone using magic on me? No. That's impossible. Fran's just been through some major trauma, and I don't think the guys would.

"The queen’s daughter? Nothing. Why would I know anything about her? I don’t know anything about the queen either." Just like my family . The bitter thought is unbidden, and I push it away. Now is not the time for that kind of thinking. I don't see what the dowager queen's child has to do with any of this.

"She fell in love," Fran says with a smile. "That's how all the good stories start. The bad stories, too, if this is anything to go by."

I still don't know what this has to do with me, but I don't think the guys would let her talk like this if they didn't believe in what she's saying. Well, James, at any rate. The others seem to be as clueless as I am about how this all fits together.

"She lived her life in secret; she even had a baby. But then, one day, her brother learned about it and made his grab for the throne." Fran wipes away a tear as she tells the story. "I'm sorry, Phoebe always used to get upset when we talked about this; it seems to have rubbed off on me." Pain cracks over her face as she says the dead woman's name.

"It's okay." Hank puts a soothing hand on her back and rubs up and down.

Fran nods and wipes her eyes again. "Phoebe was a wonderful woman. She knew her daughter was doing something that went against our laws, but that didn't stop her from loving her child.”

“That sounds like the queen,” James says, and there’s a gentleness in his voice that makes my heart swell.

Fran closes her eyes. “When she found out they’d gone after her daughter, she went to help. She was too late. She found her daughter and son-in-law dead, with their small baby left behind."

A stone drops into my stomach. A small part of me can see where this is going, but I'm not sure I'm ready to hear it. Finding the truth about my parents is my number one desire in life, but the thought that my mom was the heir to a big witch throne and had been murdered for it was a bit more than I could swallow at the moment.

"She cast a curse on the child, not to harm her, but to protect her from anyone who would seek to kill her."

"What happened then?" I ask, trying to ignore the nerves that have set in. "To the girl?" The rock in my gut grew in size.

The sadness in Fran’s eyes shifted to something more like sympathy. "The child ran, and Phoebe’s curse had been so good at hiding her that she unintentionally hid the babe from herself.”

Why didn’t she do more? I have so many questions, even more questions than before, and even fewer answers. Surely she could’ve unraveled her spell or a counter curse or something. My lack of knowledge made me feel ignorant and vulnerable.

"Things happened here about that time," Hank says. “That was close to the time of the king’s death?”

Fran nods. I startle at his voice. It's almost as if this story belongs to Fran, and no one else should be speaking.

"Almost immediately after the announcement of King Edmund’s death, King Robert took over and made life hell for the witches here," Hank says. "Especially if they didn't conform to his idea of how the world should be."

“His ideas?” I frown.

Witches have politics, too?

"The less you know, the better," James mutters darkly. There's a flash of something on his face, but that doesn't surprise me. He has secrets. They all do. I just need to give them time to start telling me them.

My heart races. "I still don't understand what this has to do with me.” The timelines add up to make me Phoebe’s granddaughter, but I can't do any of the shooting magic stuff. I wave my hands in the air as if to demonstrate that I don't have magic like I've seen them do. “See? No magic.”

"You can change into a cat, though," Will points out.

I scoff. "Not on purpose. If that's my superpower, then I was saddled with the lamest one there is." Why couldn’t I have x-ray vision or something?

"It's not a superpower," Fran whispers, drawing all the attention back to her. She looks up, her gaze locking with mine. "It's a curse."

"I figured out that much, but what’s the purpose of it? Why did someone do this to me?" I blurt.

Fran moves closer to me and takes my hand. “The more I consider you, the course of events, and what I know of Phoebe’s past, the more convinced I am. It wasn’t done to hurt you.”

“How do you know?” My heart races.

Her gaze gentles. “Because Phoebe told me more.”

“More?” I wish everyone would just spit out what they know. “Can we get all the facts on the table?”

"It was to protect you from the enemies of your mother and grandmother. Callie, I believe you must be the rightful heir to the throne of the Eastern Coven."

My eyes widen. I've been feeling as if this is the direction they've been taking me, but now it's been said out loud, I don't know if I want to believe it.

"Is that why..." I trail off, unable to find the words I need.

"She wanted to see you?" Will asks. "Yes, I guess so."

"How long have you known?" I demand.

"For sure, about as long as you have. And I didn't suspect long before that," he says.

"I saw a photo of the Dowager and your mother in the house," James admits. "She looks just like you, that's when I started to suspect."

"And you're just going to believe it's true? With no proof? What if my appearance is just another spell that's being used to make you think I'm someone I'm not?" My voice squeaks at the end.

I'm a witch . Or I am if what they're saying is true, and I see no real reason to believe it isn't. They have nothing to gain from lying to me right now. Yet, I still don’t see how it’s possible. I have no magic outside of the curse.

Fran’s sympathy is directed at me. She has just lost her mate, yet she’s showing caring and understanding for me as I come to terms with who and what I am. My heart breaks for her. "There are no other traces of magic on you," Fran says. "In fact, if I hadn't seen you transform into a cat, then I wouldn't have been able to sense that magic on you either."

I frown. That makes no sense, surely some kind of trace should be on me. Magic has consequences, right?

At least I've proved magic is real. I almost laugh at that but stop myself. This isn't the time. Far from it. I need to focus on getting them to prove who I am.

Fran sighs loudly. "There's a way to prove who you are," she says.

I perk up at that. "Then let's do it." If I am a witch and heir to a throne I can’t begin to understand, I need to come to terms with it. To do that, I need proof.

Instead of paying attention to me, she turns to Hank. "Did you get it?"

He nods and pulls the book he'd saved from the house out of the inside of his shirt, handing it to Fran. I’d forgotten about it.

"Did the other woman save my ceremonial knife?" she asks Will.

"Yes." He hands the woman a sheathed dagger.

She visibly relaxes. "Phoebe gave me this on our name-clasping ceremony. Please thank the young lady for saving it for me."

"Of course," James promises.

Fran withdraws the blade from the sheath. My teeth clench at the sight of it. The blade glimmers, and I have no difficulty believing it’s sharp enough to cut to the bone. It's a devilish blade, and I'm a little apprehensive about what she's going to do to me with it.

To my surprise, she flips it around and offers the handle to me.

I shake my head. "I'm not taking that without knowing what you're planning to do."

"This is Phoebe's grimoire," Fran explains. "Only her heir will be able to open it."

"And you think that's me?" I try not to sound worried. How could that be me?

"If Phoebe’s granddaughter is alive, she’ll be the rightful heir to the throne. And the only one that can open this book. All signs point to that being you." Fran wiggles the knife, so I’ll take it.

It’s too much. My life has been turned on its ear since arriving in this town. Which is what I had wanted—until it happened. Now, I’m not so sure what I want. "How do I know you're not lying to me? For all I know, that book could open for anyone." I glare at it, trying to work out why I'm so wary of a leather-bound book with golden inlays.

Fran smiles sadly. "I’ll show you." She tries to open the book to no avail. She puts it back down and grabs the knife, making a quick slice in her hand. Blood drips down onto the cover of the book. The gold inlays pulse red and then go still. She tries to open it again but still can't manage.

"Do you need a bandage?" Will asks.

She shakes her head and wipes away a tear before she holds her hand out and mutters a few words under her breath. This must be torture for her. The cut knits together in front of my eyes. It's as if she wants to remind me that magic is real, and it's a part of who I am, whether I want it to be or not.

"Now, you try." She hands me the book with the knife balanced precariously on top. Neither of them shows any signs of blood. How is that possible?

Oh, right. Magic.

I try to open the book without doing anything special at first. Unsurprisingly, it doesn't work. Alright then, I'm going to have to slice my hand open and hope that one of the other witches in the room will take pity on me and heal it afterward. It's crazy to think I could be doing that myself once I figure out how to do magic.

The cut stings less than I expect it to, and a few droplets of blood drip onto the cover of the book. Instead of flashing red like it did for Fran, the inlays glow gold. I know the book is going to open even before I try to do it.

I suck in a deep breath as the front cover opens, revealing an inscription with my name at the top of it.

Callie,

If you're reading this, then something has happened to me, and I need you to know the truth about yourself. I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to get to know you, but you're in the company of good men…

I stop reading, unable to carry on. I’m not ready for this.

I really am her granddaughter. They're right.

"I have a question." My voice is hoarse, like I haven't used it for a long time.

Hank chuckles. "Just one? I'd have thought you were bursting at the seams with them."

I flash him a weak smile. "I am. But I'm prioritizing them."

"What's the question?" Fran asks, accepting her knife back from me graciously.

"Why can't I do magic? And why didn't anyone recognize me as a witch when I came to town?"

"I think it's all part of the curse," she answers honestly. "I think it's all laid out in the grimoire. At least, that's what Phoebe told me. But I'm here to help you with whatever you need. Phoebe made me promise that I'd help you no matter what, even if she ended up dead." She chokes on a sob. She isn’t going to be able to continue much longer.

"Do you know how to break it?"

She shakes her head. "I'm sorry, I don't." A sob wracks through her entire body. I can’t subject her to this anymore. I have the book, I can seek answers from it, and she and I can talk again when she’s had time to process and grieve a bit.

“I’m sorry you had to do this so soon after losing your mate,” I whisper to her. “I’m sorry you have to do this at all.”

Fran covers her face and clutches my hand.

"Can you take Fran up to the guest room, please?" I ask James.

"Of course." He helps her to her feet and directs her out of the room. I hope he thinks to grab a spare t-shirt or something for the woman to sleep in.

"Where does this leave us?" I ask, toying with the cover of the book.

"I suppose that depends on what you want to do next," Will says, an uncharacteristic seriousness in his town. "We're going to protect you, of course."

"Do you think I'll need it?" I look between him and Hank, trying to work out just how bad they think this is.

They exchange a glance, which tells me everything I need to know, even if they think they're being sneaky. They're really not.

I sigh loudly. "Alright. I need some fresh air. Is there anywhere we can go that's safe from prying eyes?" The last thing I want is to endanger all of our lives accidentally.

"I know somewhere," Will says. "By the beach. It isn't far from where I found you earlier, actually."

Despite everything, I let out a sharp laugh. "I can't believe that was today."

So much has happened. I've learned who I am, gained a grandmother, and lost her. But maybe I can finally start putting the pieces together and make the most of this situation. Because I'm certain there's something else going on that the guys aren’t telling me. Sure, they've hinted at it with all the bad things the king does, but even without having been around for long, I can hear the expectation hanging in the air.

They think I can do something to change this situation.

The question is, what?