“He did,” Willow said. “He died saving your mother’s life when she was pregnant with you.”
“No,” Cece said. “He died in a car accident. My mother said he died in a car accident.”
“He didn’t,” Willow said softly. “Your father was a blood witch. And not just any blood witch. He was the son of Adora and Werner Sylvan, one of the most powerful witch families on the West Coast. His father works for the Western Witches and Warlocks Council.”
“My father was a blood witch?” Cece stared at Willow. “That can’t be true.”
“It is, honey,” Willow said. “Your mother and father were in love, but his family disapproved because your mother was an apprentice witch. They didn’t want to muddy the bloodline.”
Willow made a face. “God, I hate people like that.”
Cece sat back in her chair. “I can’t… are you sure he was a blood witch?”
“Yes,” Willow said. “But he didn’t realize just how crazy his family was and never suspected that they would try to kill you and your mother. But when they found out she was pregnant with you, they came to your parents’ house, and they,” Willow looked a little sick to her stomach, “they attacked your mother with magic on a night they believed your father wasn’t home. They knew she wouldn’t be able to protect herself against their attack. But what they didn’t know was that your father was home, and he saved your mother and you by taking the brunt of their murder spell. It killed him, and your mom escaped, and she and your aunt went into hiding.”
A high-pitched ringing started in Cece’s ears, and the world went still.
“Cece?” The ringing muffled Willow’s voice. “Honey, are you okay?”
No, she was definitely not okay. She was about to fucking faint or vomit, and there wasn’t enough air in the coffee shop, and -
“Little witch, take a deep breath.” Briggs’s deep voice spoke directly into her ear, pushing past the ringing with ease.
She stared at the big man who was crouched next to her chair, her mouth opening and closing, and her hands clutching at the table edge.
Briggs’s blue eyes held her gaze steadily, his voice full of calm confidence that demanded her obedience. “Breathe, Cecelia.”
She sucked in a gasping, wheezing breath, and he nodded approvingly. “Good. Another.”
She took another breath and then another, Briggs’s gaze not leaving hers until the ringing in her ears subsided and her grip on the table eased. Without speaking, he stood and returned to his table.
“I’m sorry,” Cece said to Willow.
“Don’t apologize,” Willow said, reaching to take her hand. “I know this is really hard.”
Cece nodded, staring at their clasped hands before she curled her hands around her coffee cup instead. “Finish what you need to say.”
“Your father’s family covered up his death. The morning after they tried to kill you and your mother, your father’s car was found in the East River with his body inside. They made it look like a car accident, like he’d fallen asleep at the wheel and driven off the bridge.”
“Oh my God,” Cece said.
“With your father dead, his family was even more determined to kill your mother. They blamed her for his death, even though they cast the killing spell. Your mom and your aunt used the car accident story to their advantage. They did a powerful amnesia spell on your father’s family, making them forget about your mom and you and making them believe that your father actually did die in a car accident. Then they moved to the East Coast and started a new life.”
“They cast an amnesia spell?” Cece said in disbelief. “A couple of apprentice witches performed a spell on one of the most powerful blood witch families. That’s impossible.”
Willow looked uneasy. “They, uh, they used a bit of dark magic.”
Cece’s eyes widened. “They did not.”
“Only a little,” Willow said hastily. “But the spell did take a lot out of them, especially your mother, since she did the brunt of the work for the spell. It’s why…”
“It’s why, what?” Cece asked.
“It’s why your mom got sick so easily, and why she tired faster than she should have. Why she…”
“Died so young,” Cece said dully.
“Yes,” Willow said.
