Page 5 of A Curse in Darkness

Closing my eyes, I rubbed my throbbing temples. “If you go to the clubhouse, his den, he’ll see it as a challenge, like you’re making some claim over me, and he’ll hurt you.”

“I’m your familiar; I do have a claim over you.” His expression turned mulish. “I’m not afraid of him, you know. I’ve been training.”

I held back my bark of disbelief, because the last thing I wanted was to hurt his pride. “Warrick is an alpha. He’s huge, unreasonable, aggressive, and has lived a very long life, most of that in Hell, among the kind of violence we can’t even imagine. He got to the position he’s in now by killing and maiming anyone who dared challenge him.”

Ren’s cheeks flushed pink. “You think I’m weak.”

Teenage boys. Sheesh. “No, Ren. I think he’s really freaking strong. You’re also still young; he’s hundreds of years old, maybe more.” I reached over and gave his arm a squeeze. “He’s just had more practice, that’s all.”

My sweet fourteen-year-old shadow was now a surly nineteen-year-old man-boy, and his drive to protect me was messing with him. The danger I’d been in lately was bringing out a side of him that should never have been. Which was another reason I had been keeping things from him.

Familiars, animal or shifter, got themselves killed doing all kinds of stupid shit trying to protect their witches. I would not let Ren take on an opponent he had not a shit show of beating in a million years. My gran and great aunt had both suffered through the loss of their familiars. The grief had haunted my gran until the day she died, mere months ago. I wasn’t letting anything happen to Ren. There was not a single chance in hell I was going to willingly involve him in this mess I found myself in, at least not until he was a lot older, a lot stronger, and a whole lot wiser.

The rest of the ride to my great aunt Else’s house was quiet, besides the angsty 80s grunge music Ren turned up while he brooded.

So I closed my eyes, exhaustion washing over me, and let myself drift off.

Chapter 2

Willow

The next time I opened my eyes, Ren was shaking my shoulder. “We’re here.”

Rubbing my hands over my face, I tried to wipe away the grogginess and glanced out the window. Our family home was a two-story gothic Victorian made of black stone. It had arched windows, a blood red door, a curved turret, and a peaked roof—it was the witch’s house in every fairy-tale storybook. My aunt, and Gran, when she’d been alive, had thought it was hilarious.

I groaned.

Everyone was here.

Magnolia should be in her room studying, and Iris was supposed to be on a date with her boyfriend, Brody. Instead, she was currently peering out the kitchen window at me. Rose was probably sitting at the kitchen table waiting for me as well. My sisters were protective.

I glanced at myself in the rearview mirror. I looked like shit, skin pale, dark rings under my bloodshot eyes, and my limbs still felt like overcooked noodles. It’d take a few days for the effects of the venom to dissipate. Good times.

I seriously hated my family seeing me like this.

“Let’s get this over with.” I shoved my door open and somehow made it inside on unsteady legs, while mentally preparing myself for the onslaught to come.

Yes, they drove me crazy sometimes, but I loved every one of them more than anything. Their faith in me, that our magic was safe in my hands, that I could save us from ruin, was humbling…and utterly terrifying. If I didn’t complete the task set by the mother, then win against another witch in a magical combat trial, we could lose everything.

My life included.

Witches sometimes died during the trials—which was something we chose not to talk about. But a coven only kept the powers gifted to them by proving themselves every two hundred years, and not doing this, and failing my entire coven, wasn’t an option.

I already knew what it was to let down those who relied on me, to feel weak and defeated, to fail the people you’d promised to keep safe. I couldn’t go through that again, and not with the people I loved most in this world.

The cold, ugly grip of evil had clawed at me, marked me, beaten me, and if I wasn’t strong enough to defeat whatever came at me this time, I’d never forgive myself.

Some nights it weighed so heavily, I woke in a cold sweat.

That couldn’t happen again.

I wouldn’t let it.

Shoving those dark thoughts aside, I walked down the hall to the kitchen.

Magnolia exploded out of her seat. “You’re bleeding.”

“It’s not my blood,” I said quickly. “A demon tried to get in our way.”