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“I can do this,” I whispered.
The scent of her perfume hit me as I paused on the threshold. I wondered how long it would linger after she was gone. Closing my eyes, I inhaled deeply. After a second, I opened them and made my way to the closet. One more long sip of my wine, and I set it on her dresser.
With a shaking hand, I gripped the doorknob and turned. Trepidation settled in my guts as I knelt on the dark honey-colored hardwood floor. Slowly, my hands slid along the wood, nails searching the edges of each plank for one that was loose. I loved how my friend didn’t question my seemingly bizarre actions. From the corner of my eyes, I saw her lean on the doorframe as she lifted her glass to her lips and observed.
My breath caught and my heart stuttered when the wood lifted slightly with my nails. Slowly, as if there might be a venomous viper or a bomb, I pried it up.
“Um, Sloane?” Niara finally asked as I set the plank to the side.
A quick glance was all I spared her. I was too busy being flabbergasted that my mother had a hidden space in the freaking floor of our historic home. Peering inside, I saw several folders and leather-bound notebooks in what was a surprisingly clean space between the floor and the downstairs’ ceiling.
“Whoa,” Niara mumbled behind me.
My teeth sank into my bottom lip, and I plucked the folders from their hiding space. There was a problem, however. I was afraid to open them. Deep inside I knew that whatever they held would change my life irrevocably.
Holding the stack of folders to my chest, I looked up at my friend. “I don’t know if I have the courage to open these.”
“Well, come out here and we’ll do it together.”
I nodded and walked out into the room on my knees. Then I plopped to my ass. Niara took a seat next to me and I set the stack on the floor.
“Holy shit,” Niara whispered as I opened the top one.
Staring up at me was an image of a man I immediately knew was the brother my mom had told me about. Our eyes were the same glacial blue. They had the same tilt at the corners. His nose was a masculine version of mine, and our hair was dark, though his looked more brown than black. Even from a picture, his aura screamed danger. “You can say that again.”
“Holy shit,” she repeated, and I shot her a deadpan stare.
“What? He’s hot as fuck. I’m guessing this is the brother your mom was talking about?”
Flipping through the pages in the folder, I scanned the information it contained. Several other images of my, until now, unknown brother. Pages of notes. It was a lot to process. A disquiet settled in me as I handed it off to Niara. “Try not to drool on him. It’s weird. He’s my brother.”
“In all fairness, you didn’t know he was your brother until today,” she teased as she shrugged.
As I flipped through the rest of the folders, my mouth fell open until the one that damn near had my chin on the friggin’ floor. To say I was stunned was an understatement of epic proportions. Head spinning with what I’d read, I passed it on to Niara, who gasped.
The last one had a hand-drawn and written family tree. Notations were jotted next to most names. The branches went back to the 1600s… and included ancestors born in Salem, Massachusetts. I’d been told all of this, but part of me believed it was just a story passed on, so to see it in black and white was crazy. I’d never seen a family tree because, for all intents and purposes, I didn’t have one.
When I scanned the first notebook, I realized it was my mother’s diary. The others were diaries of several of my ancestors. One with pages so fragile I was afraid to read it. The story it told left me reeling. My whole life my mother told me bedtime stories that I thought were fanciful imaginings of her incredible imagination. I’d chalked it all up to fairy tales and legends. When I’d gotten older, she told me that they weren’t fiction. She’d told me about what we were responsible for keeping safe. I honestly thought my mom was half crazy when she talked about the stories. Sure, I knew there were books with powerful spells—we sold some of them in our shop.
Never did I believe what she was protecting was more than all of them together.
Niara’s wide-eyed gaze darted to mine, and we let out a stunned sigh.
“We got a new shipment of texts. I started going through them today when we had a lull. Maybe there will be something in there that can help.” Niara’s offer was hopeful, but I was beginning to lose faith. Now I knew it was imperative we find a way to open the book my mother kept hidden. One that didn’t involve the ridiculous prophecy my mother insisted was real.
As if she read my mind, Niara added, “You could always search for your—”
I held up my hand. “Don’t. We’re not going there. That’s absolute bullshit, and we both know it.”
Niara pressed her lips flat between her teeth and gave me a sympathetic look.
They had diagnosed my mother with an extremely rare and aggressive cancer, but we knew the truth. It wasn’t something we could go to any of her doctors with either. They would’ve had us locked up in a loony bin if we did, because the truth was far more unbelievable than fiction.
My mother had been hexed.
