12

CALLIE

It’s late when I spring from my dream, crying hysterically. I press my hand to my mouth and try to keep my tears silent. There were so many moments in my life where I wanted to be held while I cried, but this isn’t one of those moments. Right now, I need something else.

My gaze goes over my darkened room, and I spot my bag with the book in it. Giving a silent thanks to whichever guy brought it upstairs, I move to my bag and yank the book out, then dig until I find my phone.

Not thinking about the fact that it’s barely two in the morning, I dial the familiar number and then hold my breath.

After a few rings, a tired voice comes over the line. “Hello.”

Instantly, I curse myself. I shouldn’t have called him. He told me that we weren’t really family when his family threw me out, but Parker had always been the closest thing I had to family.

“I’m sorry I called,” I say.

He’s quiet for a long minute, his breathing even. “It’s okay. What’s wrong?”

I wipe the tears from my face. “I was just thinking about that day. About Papa.”

Again, I feel immediate regret. He’s the only person who was there that night, but he doesn’t understand what I feel, because he blames me for what happened.

“What about him?” Parker says, sounding a little more awake.

I struggle to find the words. “About how he died.”

More silence. “Grandpa said you stole food. He said he was going to beat you with that belt. He had you by the arm, his belt in one hand, and you were screaming and crying.”

“I’d never been that scared in my life,” I say, heart racing.

“And then he died.” Parker finishes, a coldness washing over his words.

“But.” I choose my words with care. “You said I killed him. That you saw a glow or?—”

“My therapist said that never happened,” he says, cutting me off. “She said that you were just a little girl. That you were the victim and that I need to stop blaming you for what happened.”

It’s true. That day was one of the worst of my life. I didn’t see a glow. I didn’t know anything but the terror I felt. The man I was forced to call Papa had beat me many times, always saying it was a punishment for my bad behavior, but the look on his face that night—I knew he was going to kill me.

When Parker said there was a glow and then blamed me for his death, I never considered I might actually be at fault. I just thought it was because he hated me and that he needed someone to blame.

But now? What if the simmering magic inside of me did kill him?

I wipe away more tears that roll down my face. “Have you stopped blaming me?”

Another long pause. “I don’t know what you want me to say. My parents didn’t ask me if I wanted to have some stupid, broken foster kid in my house. And my papa didn’t like you. I didn’t blame him. If he bruised your ass a few times, you deserved it.”

I swallow around the lump in my throat. “But you still think I had something to do with him dying? You said something about a glow?”

“Fuck,” Parker says, the angry curse exploding from his lips, reminding me of the cruel boy I knew. “Only a bitch would call someone in the middle of the night to ask about the person she killed. And yeah, I still think you did it.”

The line goes dead.

Why in the hell did I call? Why?

Because I needed to know if I actually had magic inside of me. Dangerous magic? Yes, that’s why I did it. Because even if it took a call to a person who filled my dreams with nightmares, I needed to know the truth.

I hit the red button on my phone and drop my face into my hands as my heart aches. Parker and his family were so nice until their grandpa moved in. Then, things turned into a nightmare. I’d almost forgotten about it, but something about the glowing book and losing the woman, my grandma, brought all those feelings back up.

As I lean over the book, the only item I had from a real family member, I find myself crying harder. I’ve never been the type to feel sorry for myself, but maybe it was all the brandy, or maybe it was just how much life has changed since I arrived here, but I’m feeling more than a little sorry for myself tonight.

Blinking away tears, blue light filters in behind my eyelids. Opening my eyes, I stare down at the book in shock. The blue light radiates from it, and when I reach out to touch the cover, it flips slowly open.

Words start to scroll across the page.

My dearest granddaughter,

I have spent many years trying to find a way to break the spell I cast over you and unlock your powers, but no matter what, all roads lead to the same path. Only through a great act of sacrifice and a great cost of power can you be free.

Unfortunately, taking a life seems to be the only solution.

Not any life, but the life of a great witch.

I’m the one who did this to you. When the time comes, I’ll be the one to pay the ultimate price. There is no other way.

If you’re already reading this and thus have the book, I can already assume I’ve died. But don’t think I took my life in a simple act; I know from experience that all I have to do is let my presence be known to my enemies and let down my wards. Don’t waste time thinking about how it happened, and know that I performed a spell to be certain I didn’t suffer before I went.

As much as I want to be there for you, I’ve lived a long life.

I won’t regret this sacrifice for you.

But now comes the hard part for you, Callie. I have contained the power released from my death in this book. To unleash the spell, you need only find witches willing to perform it for you. In your current state, you can’t. And then decide if you will feel the repercussions of the spell or if you’ll have the witches bear the burden.

Act soon, my dear one, because until you do, all those I protected are at the mercy of cruel people.

You are their warrior now. It is not an easy burden to carry.

Love,

Grandma

On the page, a simple spell appears.

One life has been taken,

For one life to return.

A price will be paid by someone dear.

Willingly.

Holding nothing back.

And then the crime that was done,

Will be undone.

My hands shake as I pull a piece of paper off my desk and write down the spell, and then I close the book slowly. There it is. This will undo the curse that has ruined my life since I was a child.

And all it cost me was my only link to who my family were.

Feeling numb, I go to my bed and lay down, drawing my knees up to my chest, ashamed as more tears fall. I thought I was willing to do anything to be normal, but I didn’t mean this. Never this.

If I could go back in time, I’d continue to shift into a cat if it meant I could have one person in my life who loved me as much as my grandmother seemed to. A woman who, after not knowing me for nearly all my life, sacrificed herself for me.

Suddenly, I hear the door to my room open. I turn my head slightly to see Hank’s shadow in the doorway.

He moves a little closer, and his eyes widen in surprise when our gazes meet.

“Lay with me,” I say.

He moves forward and wipes the tears off my face, then silently slides into the bed and curls around me.

Hank doesn’t love me. None of the guys do. We haven’t known each other long enough for that. But for tonight, I’m going to pretend they do because tomorrow everything changes. My powers get unleashed. My cat, my only constant companion, will be gone.

And apparently, I’m supposed to save a bunch of people.

“Hold me tighter,” I say.

I’m relieved when he does.