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“And then what? If they return they’ll be sent back to prison.”
“I know, but it’s better than leaving them in Oreylia. Like you said, that place almost killed Granddad Martin.”
Mum eyed me and I could practically see her weighing the options. She knew how stubborn I was, and asking Roman for help meant I wouldn’t be endangering myself.
“Fine,” she allowed. “You can ask Roman, but there’s no guarantee he’ll say yes. He can be unpredictable. Now, roll up your sleeves. I bet you’re eager to be rid of those thorn tattoos.”
Oddly, I’d completely forgotten about the tattoos. Unlike Mum, whose magic was vast, I often failed to remember that I was part witch. Sure, there had been moments, like the time when I’d tricked Vas into being captured, or when I’d melded my magic with his so that we could break the prison wards, that I’d felt briefly what it would be like to wield powerful spells. But I knew I’d never be powerful in my own right. I was merely a conduit, or a backup supply propping up the magic of the truly powerful ones, like Peter and Vas.
I thought of them then, so different yet I held affection for them both. It seemed grubby to have feelings for two men of the same bloodline. Sure, they were only distantly related, it wasn’t like they were brothers, but they were still Girards. I hated the feeling of being torn in two directions. Both seemed like the right choice for different reasons. Maybe I didn’t deserve to make such choices. I certainly didn’t deserve Peter, not after how close I’d allowed myself to get to Vas.
I still had to tell him about that, the full truth of it and not simply that I fed from him because I was hungry, or relied on him because there was nobody else. The fact of the matter was I did have something in me that was intrigued by Vas. Perhaps I’d subconsciously enjoyed being the object of his obsession for a while.
Carra had said that the mark couldn’t make you have feelings for someone unless there were at least some small feelings there to begin with. It heightened those feelings, but it didn’t create them.
A sharp sting touched my skin, dragging me from my meandering thoughts. I glanced down and watched as my mother traced her fingers along the inky black thorns Serg had needled into my wrists. They began to vanish like her fingertips were an eraser. The magic in the ink fizzled away until nothing but unblemished skin remained.
I thought of Vas and how he still possessed his tattoos, continuing to dull his magic and making it even easier for Red Armand to hold him captive.
“There. Good as new,” Mum said.
“Thank you,” I replied, focusing on where the tattoos had been. It was like they’d never been there at all. There wasn’t a single remnant of black ink. “Can you, um, show me how you did that?”
Mum seemed surprised at the request since I never asked her to teach me spells. “Of course, the magic is simple, really, but it takes a lot of concentration.”
“I can concentrate,” I said, glad she didn’t seem suspicious. The real reason I wanted to know how to remove the tattoos was so that I could remove Vas’ if I ever got the chance. If I ever saw him again. What if I didn’t? I was shocked to discover a tendril of sadness within me at the idea of never seeing him, of that moment on the beach being our last encounter.
A little while later I was equipped with the knowledge of a brand new spell, though I wasn’t certain I’d ever be a good enough witch to wield it.
“Get some rest,” Mum said as she stood to leave, gently running her hand over my hair. “You’ve got school tomorrow if you’re up to it.”
Her words gave me a jolt because I hadn’t even been thinking about school. Tomorrow was Monday but it felt surreal to just get back to normal. I climbed into bed and pulled the covers over myself. As I drifted off to sleep I realised two things.
Roman hadn’t answered my call and Peter hadn’t come over to see me like he promised he would.
4.
The only reason I put on my uniform and got ready for school the next day was because I wanted to see Peter. I texted him as soon as I woke up but received no reply. His silence made me regret telling him about feeding from Vas, but I had to come clean. There was more I needed to tell him, and the fact that he reacted this way and I hadn’t even told him the full story yet didn’t bode well.
I walked into the school building alone, many pairs of eyes watching and whispering about me as I passed. Clearly, those rumours Angela mentioned had spread like wildfire. There were only a few weeks left of term, so at least I wouldn’t have to endure being the main source of gossip for very much longer. Still, it was uncomfortable having people look at me like I was a murderer.
