“You worked the seam,” Lillian says. “The curse won’t let you raise the topic. Once it’s named, you can talk around it. Useful.”
“Apparently.”
She sits back. Her hand has not left Violet’s shoulder. Her thumb is moving in a small, steady circle, and that is the only soft thing about her.
“Tell me the story. From the start.”
Lucas sits back in his desk chair. He talks about his great-great-grandfather. The witch. The baby. The murder. The curse the witch built as she was dying, the wording she chose, the bond becoming the punishment. The progression of it on the body. The marks at the wrists and ankles. How long it takes to kill. He tells the story the way a man delivers news he has been carrying inside himself for so long that he is tired of it.
When he finishes, Lillian is quiet while she thinks. “That sounds like blood magic.”
“Meaning?” I ask.
“Meaning it is the most binding kind there is. Cast with the witch’s own blood and life force, anchored into the bloodline of the man who wronged her. That sort of magical working can only be unmade by someone of that witch’s blood willing to do so, or by another witch more powerful than the one who cast it.”
Violet leans forward. “Hybrids are powerful.”
Lillian shakes her head. “Hybrids have potential. Most of us never develop it or even care to. You weren’t raised in it, Violet. Nobody taught you workings as a child. The hybrids in our community who could do real magic learned it from their mothers, and their mothers learned it from theirs. The rest of us had physical strength and a few small workings, and that was the extent of it. Nowhere near advanced enough for something like this. I’m certainly not powerful enough.”
My fingers rub my forehead. “So, what can we do?”
“You need a witch.”
The word lands in the room like a coin dropped on a stone floor.
“There aren’t any witches in Moonvale territory,” Lillian goes on. “Used to be. Not anymore. But there should be a few in Silvercrest. They prefer human towns, smaller ones, places where they can blend in. Silvercrest has more of those than we do.”
Lucas has been motionless at the desk. Now, his elbows find the wood as he leans forward. “I’ll have my people ask in every human settlement we border. Quietly.”
“Be careful.” Lillian holds his gaze through the screen. “The more powerful the witch, the harder she will be to find. The good ones do not announce themselves. The ones who do announce themselves are usually charlatans, or weak, or both. You will get a lot of false leads before you find a real one.”
“Understood.”
Violet sets her chin the way she does when she is about to pick a fight with her mate. “Mom and I will come help you.”
Darius doesn’t move. “No,” he says calmly, sipping his coffee.
She doesn’t look at him. “I am not asking.”
“Violet.”
“You’re welcome to come with us.” Her eyes stay on the screen. “Lucas, there’s something else Darius wants to discuss with you. We were going to call you about it later this morning.”
Lucas nods. “What is it?”
Darius gives a quick shake of his head. “I’ll tell you in person,” he says. “It’s not for a screen.”
Lucas’s jaw tightens. “Then I suppose we will be hosting you.”
“It would seem so.”
Violet finally looks at her mate. “Let’s go pack our bags.”
Darius exhales through his nose. There will be an argument about this later, behind a closed door, and he is going to lose. He knows it.
“Ten days,” he says firmly. “We’ll be there in ten days. I have to wrap up some things here first.”
Lillian’s eyes hold mine through the camera until the screen goes dark. My hands settle in my lap.
