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“What curse?” I asked anxiously.
“This one.” He took my hands in his and looked down at my ragged nails. They had all been bitten down to the quick by now and some were actually bloody around the edges. I’m sorry if that sounds gross—I didn’t mean to hurt myself. I just couldn’t seem to help it.
“Oh, please don’t!” I tried to pull my hands away but Lachlan held them firmly in his own.
“No, Emma,” he said gently. “I need to see the problem in order to heal it.”
“It’s just so gross and awful,” I muttered, feeling my cheeks get hot with mortification. “I’m so ashamed of it but I can’t seem to stop doing it!”
“Your nail-biting habit is proportional to the smoking habit you lifted off your mother,” he explained calmly. “And if what you told me was true, she was intensely addicted.”
“That’s an understatement,” I said with feeling. “She literally couldn’t stop smoking from the minute she got up, to when she fell asleep at night.” I looked at Lachlan anxiously. “But I don’t want to cure my nail-biting habit if it means my mom’s urge to smoke will come back! I’d rather bite my nails the rest of my life than see her smoking again.”
“I know you feel that way—you’re loyal and true to the ones you love,” he murmured, smiling at me as he looked into my eyes. “But please don’t worry, little one—we won’t be pushing the burden of addiction back onto your mother—we will be lifting it completely.”
I felt myself blushing even harder and dropped my gaze to look back at my hands. I was getting used to him and Bran now—getting used to being always flanked by two supernaturally good-looking guys. But looking into Lachlan’s emerald eyes still made my heart pound and my cheeks get hot.
Of course, I felt the same way around Bran. I was glad all over again that I had bound the three of us together—even if I had done it unintentionally. I hoped I would never have to choose between them.
“How…how am I going to break my habit?” I asked. “And how much will it hurt?”
“It’s a very strong addiction but we are going to share the pain,” Lachlan promised me. “Now close your eyes and picture yourself gathering power.”
I did as he said, holding the blue moon and emerald star pendant firmly in one hand while Lachlan continued to hold my other hand. I saw myself reaching for the golden thread and pulling it through the pendant in my hand. Once it was focused, it was mine to do what I wanted with. Only what did I want to do?
“Now what?” I asked Lachlan, frowning.
“Now see the addiction,” he murmured. “Picture it in your mind, however you think it should look.”
I concentrated for a moment and then I saw it—it was like a thick iron cuff around my wrist, attached to a heavy ball and chain. It might have been kind of a cartoonish metaphor, but that was how it felt to me—like a massive weight was attached to me and I couldn’t get away from it.
“Do you see it?” Bran asked me.
I nodded, my eyes still tightly closed.
“Good. Now I’m going to give you some of my power as well—not that you need it, but it will help me share the consequences of breaking the addiction with you,” he said. “We’re going to break it together. Now concentrate, little one—this will hurt but it will be worth it when we’re done.”
“All right,” I said grimly. “What do I do?”
“Simply use your magic to free yourself from the addiction,” he told me. “Picture yourself lifting the curse—visualization is important.”
“I can do that,” I said, nodding.
Eyes still tightly closed, I pictured myself using the golden light I had gathered and the light that Lachlan was pushing my way, as a kind of saw or file to hack at the iron manacle around my wrist.
As Lachlan had predicted, it hurt. This was no light, temporary spell like the one I’d used to turn the gum wrapper into a coin. This felt like I was cutting into my own flesh in order to free myself from the heavy iron manacle that was weighing me down.
“It hurts!” I gasped as I sawed deeper with the light.
“I know.” Lachlan’s voice was tight but controlled and his grip on my hand was firm. “Don’t give up, little one. If you don’t free yourself now, the addiction will only grow stronger.”
Well, I couldn’t have that. Gritting my teeth, I gripped his hand harder and concentrated on sawing through the iron. The heavy cuff had the weight of years of my mom’s smoking habit—it had been reinforced every day over and over—no wonder it was so hard to break!
The pain got even worse—it felt like I was sawing through the bones of my own arm. I felt a scream rising to my lips and tried to swallow it back—I didn’t want to wake anybody up, but it hurt so much!
