"I have never pretended to be," Luther said. "But I also don't pretend to be something I'm not. Sometimes being bad is better. It makes it easier to slay the monsters."
Some things can be said about being held close by a person when you barely know them. For one, it forces you to ask questions you never would have asked before, to make conversation when it might be better to remain silent.
"I don't think of myself as cursed," I said quietly. Luther tensed, but I didn't give him a chance to speak. "I've known for a little while now that I am connected somehow to Hell and to Demons. It scared me. I had even quit sleeping at night, as if the dark somehow made things worse, but there is also something I've learned from it."
"You realize," Luther interrupted, "that you don't have to say anything. I already know what you're thinking."
I snorted. "You do realize that saying things out loud makes them more real than thinking them, right?"
Luther remained silent, and I laughed. "You do realize it, don't you? Ha! That's why you don't want me to talk. Fine, so I'm a control freak, but you fear what exactly? Reality?"
He didn't answer, and I laid my head back on his shoulder so that I could look up into his face. His lips were tight, his skin pale in the darkness. It was an illusion. Luther had olive skin.
"I've learned," I continued, "that being damned is the saddest, most loneliest feeling in the world. I think the pain I feel from Demons like you isn't anger, it's fear. It's a constant search for something real. Freedom from pain, death, and persecution."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Luther huffed.
I snorted again. "Don't I?"
His eyes moved down to mine, and our gazes caught.
"I told you before I'm not Dayton," I said. "And you, Luther, are no Marcas. You let yourself feel more than he does. Quit pretending you don't."
"You need a restraining order on your mouth," Luther growled.
I smiled. "Why? You're already in my head, right? You're the one who removed the barriers, Demon. There are no holds barred now."
He looked away from me, his eyes moving to the sky above. The wind blew my hair against my face, the chill refreshing. It was January, and where ever we were, it wasn't Louisiana anymore. It was too cold.
Luther's arms wrapped themselves more securely around me, his body shielding mine from the elements. His skin heated, and I grew drowsy. This day had been too long, and full of too many revelations. I was a cursed witch wanted by Lucifer, and Bernice was a cursed witch who was a natural magical beacon for Hunters, a witch's most fearsome enemy.
I shouldn't want to sleep, and yet here I was in Luther's arms, the cold wind brushing my cheeks and tangling my hair, and that's exactly what I did.
Chapter 10
New Orleans, Louisiana. It's a place where it's okay to be different. Not just outwardly, but inwardly too. It's why I came here. My Aunt Clara lives here, along with her branch of the Ayers Coven. The Moonstone Coven, or whatever else it is Clara calls it in French. I like Moonstone better. Either way, Clara has welcomed me into her home, and we've discussed my powers. The visions are normal. It's my Ayers gift. But the Demonic stuff isn't. I think I scare people. Sometimes, I scare myself.
~Monroe's Totally Wicked Book of Shadows~
When I woke, we were in a small, one-room cabin, and I was in a bed with several quilted blankets over me. I was warm and reluctant to move, my eyes skirting the room's wooden interior. There was a rusted wooden stove in the corner with a twisted pipe that exited through the roof, and another bed opposite mine. It was iron, and I could just make out Bernice's shape on the thin mattress beneath another set of faded quilts.
I sat up.
Shadows moved along the walls, created by the flames inside the stove's open door, and the cabin's floor was littered with twigs and dead leaves. Wind raked my face, bringing my attention to the cabin's cracked doorway. There was light beyond the crack, but it was dull. The moon? Or dawn?
I threw my covers back, my hands going instantly to my bare arms as goose bumps popped up along my skin. The room was crazy cold even with the stove burning, and I looked hastily for my missing boots and backpack as I stepped onto the wooden planks below. My royal blue, manicured toenails peeked up at me, the only real splash of color in a grey, cold world.
"Monroe," a voice whispered, and I placed a finger against my lips.
"Shhhhhhh," I hissed.
NeeCee was sitting up in her own bed now, her eyes wide and scared behind crooked glasses.
"Where are we?" NeeCee asked.
I located my boots and slipped them on. They weren't much protection against the cold, but they made me feel better. Something about having shoes on made me feel less vulnerable. My backpack was against the cabin wall, and I lifted it.
"I don't know," I answered while pulling one of the quilts off of the bed and wrapping it around my shoulders. "Come on, NeeCee. Find your shoes."
She did as ordered, and I crept over to the door. The crack didn't afford much of a view, but I recognized the location instantly, and I yanked on the door.
"What are you doing?" NeeCee asked horrified.
I tugged harder. The hinges were so old, they groaned, and NeeCee stumbled up behind me.
"Stop, Monroe! We don't know where we are! They could have left us here to die for all we know. Think about it. It seems reasonable. What better way to get rid of two cursed witches than together?"
I huffed. "I mean too much to them for them to kill me."
NeeCee coughed. "Arrogant much?"
The anger in her tone was refreshing, and I grinned. It was nice to hear her do something other than shiver.
"No, truth," I pointed out. "Hell wants me. If Luther and Lucas abandon me, then it leaves me open for possession, and they don't want that."
NeeCee grew silent for only a moment before she leaned in to help me pull on the door. Between the two of us, we managed to get it open just enough we could slide through.
There was a hop down from there, the wooden steps that once sat in front of the door now rotted away, and we landed in snow. A small wooden house sat to the side of the yard, and I scrunched my nose.
"They couldn't find somewhere more technologically advanced? A real toilet would have been nice," I complained.
NeeCee gawked. "That's an outhouse?"
I looked at the clearing. "I'll keep a look out while you pee if you will while I do," I said.
She shook her head. "I'm not going in that thing!"
I laughed. "And you think I will? No ma'am! The forest floor is just as good. Seriously, just watch out, will you?"
She nodded, and I found a place to relieve myself before giving her a chance to do the same. It was freezing inside the forest, and there was snow everywhere. The trees over the cottage were bare and covered in ice. A trail led from the rotted cabin steps into the forest beyond, and the trees opened up to reveal a clearing with a sparkling lake in the distance. I was in my vision again, only this time, I wasn't seeing the past.
I lifted the quilt I'd stolen from the cabin, gripping it harder than necessary. With my backpack, the added cover was bulky and heavy, but I didn't have a jacket and I refused to freeze.
I moved forward with NeeCee on my heels.
"Are we in Scotland you think?" she asked.
I nodded. I had no doubt that's where we were. I knew this place.
Voices met us as we moved down the trail to the clearing beyond. I paused behind a tree, my eyes on the Demon, the Angel, and the witch beyond. Another woman stood with them. She was old, her back bent. Thin, white hair trailed down her shoulders, and she had on several layers of plain brown clothing and a thick brown cloak.
A fire crackled inside a circle of grey, smooth stones.
Luther looked up from where he was standing, his eyes going to the trees, and I knew he felt me there, had probably felt me the moment I'd opened my eyes. It both bothered me and comforted me. If this wasn't proof of
my possession, nothing was. I had no doubt Luther had been inside the vision with me when we were back in Belle's living room. How else would he know where this place was?
Luther gestured at me, and I stepped out of the protection of the trees. NeeCee followed.
The elderly woman looked up, and I stared. She looked so much like my mother, only much, much older, that it was frightening. Her old eyes found my face, and the wrinkles around her mouth moved as she smiled. It was a forced smile. There was no warmth there.
"The cursed ones," the woman croaked.
My boots sloshed through snow as we approached the warmth of the fire.
"It's so very nice to meet you too," I replied, my gaze moving over the group curiously.
It wasn't long past dawn, and the sky was grey. If there was a sun, it was hidden under several layers of clouds. It made the dark lake beyond look much colder and dangerous than it probably was.
"This is Hannah," Belle introduced. "She's an Ayers witch."
I wanted to tell her "duh," but just managed to control myself. I studied the old woman cautiously, and her deep blue eyes met mine, her gaze steady and cool.
"If you are an Ayers witch, then why are you not with one of the Covens?" I asked.
The woman stared into the fire. "There are many branches of us, child. A good deal of us choose not to practice as a group. We do not seek out the family Covens. We are solitary practitioners. We practice alone."
"You're an eclectic witch," I said.
There was disdain in my voice. No judgment, just disdain. I had nothing against solitary witches but Hannah was an Ayers. She looked too much like the rest of the women in my family not to be. Why, if she were part of such a strong lineage, would she choose to practice alone?
Hannah limped to me, her old frame bringing her an inch under my chin. Her sharp eyes looked up into mine, and I froze. There was a lot of magic in her gaze. Strong magic.
"If what you have learned thus far about your own family hasn't led you to solitary practice then you haven't learned enough," she stated.
Belle drew herself up behind the woman, her face hard. "I take offense to that," Belle argued.
Hannah didn't spare her a glance. Her eyes stayed on mine. "That's because you are no Ayers, young one. You are simply an initiate."
"I am a witch," Belle intoned.
Hannah took a step back, her odd stare finally breaking from mine. I was left feeling strangely bereft. She faced Belle.
"You are an initiate," the old woman repeated. "Have you fought yet? Have you been faced with Hunters? Have you had to kill or protect your own?"
Belle didn't answer. Her gaze slid away from the old woman's, and Hannah laughed. It was an eerie sound, hollow and weary. I hoped fervently she wouldn't look back at me again because I knew, if she did, I wouldn't be able to look her in the eye.
Unlike Belle, I had seen death. I had joined with my mother's Coven to help protect my best friend, Dayton, in a battle with Demons, and I had fought alongside Dayton, Luther, and Lucas in battles I wished now to forget. It's how I'd learn to craft the amulets.
"And you," Hannah said. She was facing me now, but I kept my gaze averted, my eyes on the fire inside the stone circle by the lake. "You have fought, but not for your own blood. For a friend."
I looked up. From the corner of my eye I could see Luther, Lucas, and NeeCee watching us silently. Luther's face was impassive, Lucas' was knowing, and NeeCee's was uncertain. Behind Hannah, Belle fumed.
"Are you a visionary then?" I asked.
"Aye," the woman answered. "Same as you."
She moved closer. I wanted to back away, but I held my ground. Her gaze tried to catch mine, and I wouldn't let it. It was bad enough I had a Demon in my head, I wouldn't let her into it as well.
"The friend is like a sister to me. She is family," I said quietly. Dayton and I were much more than friends to each other. Much more.
"And so it is so. You are not like the rest of the cursed in our line, Ellie Elizabeth Jacobs," Hannah revealed.
This time, my gaze did meet hers, my eyes wide, shocked.
"The rest?" I asked.
She nodded. "It is why you have come, isn't it? To discover why you carry your link with Demons, why your cousin here attracts the Hunters?"
Belle took a step closer to Hannah, but the old woman held up a hand, stopping her, her eyes only for me.
"I know little. Our family's secrets have long since passed into the hands of the cursed among us. But I do know one thing." The old woman's brown cloak moved around her as her thick, brown leather boots met mine in the snow. "While you are not the first Demon-cursed Ayers, you are very different from those who came before you."
My gaze was trapped by Hannah's.
"How so?" I whispered, my voice hoarse.
One of Hannah's wrinkled hands came up to my face, her rough skin touching my cheek. Compared to my own skin, her palm was warm.
"You," she said, "are not evil."
Chapter 11
I've taken to getting up just past dawn and walking down to the river every morning. I keep waiting for my aunt to say something, to tell me the walk is either too long or too dangerous alone, but she doesn't. I always stop at the railing between the aquarium and the River Walk mall. I like the way the wind feels near the river, the way the sun rises over the water as boats move out into the current. As a witch, nature calls to me, but the river speaks. Its dark and dangerous waters are alluring. I've had a vision about this river. I'm on it, and it is sunset. Behind me, there is a man, his arms wrapped around my waist. I'm beginning to think I am crazy. My visions make no sense.
~Monroe's Totally Wicked Book of Shadows~
I was having a hard time processing the old woman's words. Evil?
Luther stepped up beside me. "It's as I suspect then?" he asked.
I looked up at him. As he suspected? What did he suspect?
Hannah looked at him. "It is not something I can confirm. All I know is that the women in our family before Ellie who carried the Demon curse were not good women. They were dangerous to themselves and to our family."
"Monroe," I corrected. Why my nickname seemed so important to me now, I had no idea, but it did.
Hannah grinned. This time the smile was genuine. "You even shirk the name of your predecessors."
"The name?" I asked. "Those before me shared my name?"
Hannah nodded. "Some of them did."
I was getting impatient, my heart thudding in my chest, and I felt Luther's hand rest firmly on my shoulder.
"What happened to them?" Luther asked. "Where are these cursed women now?"
Hannah laughed. "You don't know, Demon?"
Luther's eyes narrowed. "Speak, woman. Unlike the Ayer witch standing next to me, I am not kind or patient."
Hannah's glacial blue eyes met his. "They are in Hell, Demon, enjoying the wonderful lakes of fire I'm sure you were born in."
Luther's hand tightened on my shoulder.
"No," I gasped.
Hannah's eyes were filled with sympathy when they met mine again. "It is the fate of your kind. Unless your Demon here can save you, you will join them eventually. You will have no choice."
I could feel the sob working its way up into my chest, but I fought it.
"And me?" NeeCee asked frantically, her panicked tone breaking into the tension. "What about me?"
Hannah's saddened gaze moved to my cousin. "It is even more pitiful that the curse of the Hunted should fall on your shoulders, dear. You, who are so afraid. You are fated, as the rest in your line, to die. Fortunately for you, the Hunter-cursed Ayers descendant before you is still alive."
NeeCee was shaking uncontrollably now, and Lucas let one of his arms fall across her shoulders, his eyes soft. He may be fallen, but he was still an Angel. It was in his nature to offer comfort.
"What do you mean still alive?" Belle asked.
The old witch's gaze skirted the group. "The last witc
h cursed with calling powers took her fate into her own hands and did something none of us would dare do." Hannah moved to the fire, her hand lifted. "She turned on her own kind and joined the Hunters to save herself."
This time even Belle gasped.
"And that makes me fortunate?" NeeCee cried.
Hannah looked at her. "It does, sweet one. Because she, unlike most Hunters, may show you pity."
I could do nothing more than stare.
"How did this happen to us?" I asked Hannah. "What did the Ayers do that was so bad?"
The old witch waved her hands over the fire, some kind of powder falling from her palms. It made the blaze poof upward, smoke billowing around us.
"Asked the cursed, Ellie Jacobs. Ask them what we did wrong."
And with that, the old woman was gone, the smoke swallowing her up, leaving nothing more than empty air in her place.
Belle waved her hands over the spot Hannah had stood. "What the hell?"
Luther's hand dropped from my shoulder as NeeCee turned her head into Lucas' chest, her shaking shoulders obvious. I didn't blame her for her tears. Normal people cried.
I walked over to the fire. It was burning low now, the powder used by Hannah spread out on the ground below. I leaned down and touched it carefully. My fingertips tingled.
"Witch powder," I said, my voice low. "Many witches have their own recipes. It's mainly used for show. The real magic was in her disappearance. How she did that is beyond me."
Luther leaned down next to me. "Not magic. All psychological. She merely bent your perception. She is able to manipulate what humans see. She could be standing next to you, and you wouldn't know. It's one of her gifts."
I looked over at him. "But you can still see her? Is she still here now?"
"She isn't far," Luther answered, his eyes going to the forest. "But we are done with her. No need to detain her."
My mouth fell open. "Done with her! But there are so many questions that haven't been answered!
Luther's eyes went to Lucas. The fallen Angel shook his head. "You forget," Luther said, "that Lucas has the ability to read thoughts if he so wishes. There was nothing in the witch's head that she didn't already reveal to us. She's right. We need to find the cursed."
I stiffened. The cursed?