It’s Saturday afternoon.
Twig’s at home, resting.
And the town is in an uproar.
Officials scramble to make sense of what happened, navigating confusion, community pressure, and outright condemnation. How was a party ofsuch magnitude allowed to unfold under their noses on public property? And what is going on with these non-earthquakes? First, the tremble at the ball. Now teens have reported another at the cemetery. If nothing is turning up on the richter scale, then what is going on?
With a sigh, I let the gemstones spill from my hand and reach for the family tree, curled in on itself like a scroll. I stretch it flat and eye Raphael’s line, which is no line at all. Raphael II. Raphael III. Lucian. Rueben. Frank. Thomas. I brush my finger over each name. All of them were one and the same.
Where is he now?
The rift vanished in the music room. No trace of it remains, not even the faintest of scars. The destruction of Seraphina, along with the curse, seemed to have caused a supernatural glitch. Jude and I were booted from its realm. But what about Rafe? Is he stuck on the other side? According to him, his life was connected to Seraphina’s. When she met her end, did he meet his, too?
I look at Jude, taking in his broad back, his slim waist as he removes Lydia Mabel’s autopsy report from the wall.
“You should frame this,” I say.
He glances over his shoulder.
I lift the family tree. “Hang it somewhere in the estate.”
“I’d rather throw it in the fire.”
“Maggie would die.”
“Maybe I should give it to her, then.”
I trace the branches of his lineage—one after another, marked by the curse. From Ezra all the way down to Jude’s father. Heartache and tragedy passed from father to son, and I wonder, how many of them knew what was going on?
My finger pauses over the scorch mark.
Elijah Vandenberg.
I think of his suicide note. His mother’s pain. His father’s shame. Elijah’s final request—to tell his son everything. But they refused, as if acknowledging the curse gave it power. Isaiah remained oblivious, and the train flew off the tracks anyway, an attack not only on Vandenberg blood, but on every innocent passenger aboard.
Ignoring it hadn’t protected anyone.
It only kept them stuck in the same tragic loop.
Generation after generation.
Until we faced the monster head on, and broke ourselves free.
“Whatshouldwe do with all this stuff?” I ask.
“We could put it in the crypt.” Jude sets the stack of evidence on his desk. “Lock it up,” he continues, his eyes on mine as he comes closer. “Throw away the key.”
I set the parchment aside and lean forward. “Maybe in fifty years, some girl will find it and dive head first into a supernatural mystery.”
“With her nose in every shadow.” He traces the ridge of my jaw with his thumb, sending a trail of sparks along my skin.
I lift my chin.
His lips find mine.
And my insides catch fire.
The kiss is soft.
