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Thirty-Two
Rhythmic chants and drums filled my cottage as the West Greenwich coven focused all their energy solely on me. Jenks lay atop my stomach, providing a grounding tether as they worked their magic, each taking on a different role.
Keelyn knelt behind me, my head resting in her lap, while six other women—three on each side—held their hands above the crystals lining my arms and legs. The other six ladies walked in a circle beyond that, pounding their drums and spinning their magic.
For a solitary witch, this was something!
“Just relax, Milly. Close your eyes. Focus and center. Locate the source of your power.”
I followed Keelyn’s instructions, feeling a pulse buried deep within my stomach.
The drums and chants grew louder, but I kept my eyes closed. A swell of magic emerged inside me, unfurling and growing like the plants I’d tended in our garden. I always knew my magic was part of the land.
Keelyn had explained that Mama didn’t want her magic back, only to be healthy enough to live a normal life with me and my dad. It made me feel selfish for a moment, as though I was asking for too much, but as my magic unfolded and reached my heart, I knew I’d made the right decision.
I recalled my words to Roarke, their truth meaning more to me now than ever. “The magic doesn’t matter! Being your queen doesn’t matter! I only want you!”
I understood the choice Mama made, but it wasn’t the right choice for me. I needed my magic if I was going to break this curse, and doing so was the first step toward the life I envisioned with Roarke.
“Hold still just a few more moments,” Keelyn whispered in my ear as Jenks let out a loud, commanding yowl.
I lifted my head, unable to form words. Mr. Jenkins’s black fur was now covered in gold symbols. Vines, flowers, and leaves marked his body while a crescent moon sat squarely above his bright amber eyes.
“What’s this about?” I asked, running a hand down my familiar’s back.
“He wanted to help,” Keelyn said, maneuvering out from under me. “This will protect your magic for the rest of his—and your—exceptionally long life.”
Sitting cross-legged in the middle of my room, I placed my forehead against Mr. Jenkins. “Always my hero.”
Atwood familiars could live hundreds of years, and I knew Jenks’s choice to link our magic further was meant to give me as much time with Roarke in the real world as he could. My sweet boy had always been there since the day I was born, passed down from Mama to me, and always aware of all of our needs.
“Thank you, baby. I’ll never forget what you’ve done.” I lifted my head, repeating my words to the room. “I’ll never forget what any of you have done.” I stood and threw myself into Keelyn’s arms. “Thank you all so much.”
The coven members quietly gathered their things, patting me on the back as they departed my home, leaving Keelyn and me alone.
She pulled back from our hug. “So you’re not mad at me for keeping your mom’s secret?”
I pushed her long silver-blond braid over her shoulder, reveling in the fact that she was actually a witch too. “No, I’m not mad. As a matter of fact, I’ve never been happier. Though, I do have one more question.”
“What’s that?”
“Do you know if my mother knew Genevieve DuWant—or Genevieve Pike?” I didn’t want to think of Mama as her source, but that was one mystery I still hadn’t solved. “If not her, maybe my grandmother?”
“Not that I know of. Besides me and a few women in town, your mother didn’t have many friends. All she ever needed was your father and you.”
I grinned, wiping another happy tear from my cheek and resolved to the fact that I might never know.
“It’s good to see you smile, Milly. But I assume there’s one person who can make you even happier than this.”
I laughed, realizing she already knew I was in love with Roarke.
“I love him so much. And now, with your and Mama’s help, I can break this damn curse so we can live out our lives together.”
Keelyn smiled, but her eyes remained tight. “Just don’t rush into anything too quickly. You need time to recover and for your magic to recharge.” She gathered her remaining things and walked to the door. “Promise me you’ll rest for a few days at least, okay?” She ran a motherly hand down my arm, leaving me to shout my promise out the door into the night.
“I promise, and thanks again.”
Two weeks later…
