AllFreeNovel
Share Us
I open one eye. “Which part?”
She takes a long time to answer, and in the interim she bangs an illegal U-turn in the middle of the road, heading toward my parents’ house. Cat is staying with us for the rest of the semester while her father, his new girlfriend, and her little sister, Bianca, are in Athens. Given that at twenty-two, her obsessively overprotective father won’t let her move out, or even spend a few weeks at her house alone, I don’t blame her for wanting to avoid a family vacation.
Finally, she glances sideways at me, and puts on a fake, low voice, like Councilman Lawrence. “I’ll stop this if it’s the last thing I do!” She grins. “Very movie villain of him, don’t you think?”
I crack a smile. “Who knows? Maybe he’s dying.”
“Or retiring,” Cat fiddles with her phone, trying to connect her Bluetooth to my car stereo and select a playlist. Finally, she picks something and clears her throat. “I mean, people have been saying he should retire ‘cause of those girls. And since he’s wicked old and all.”
I nod. My mom, who sits on the council representing our family, is one of the contenders for the head position when Lawrence retires. She’s not exactly going around with a megaphone demanding his removal, but there have been whispers and I know she’s behind half of them. “To be fair, he could be doing more.”
We all could. I could.
“Maybe we should try and do something…” I trail off, knowing even as I say it, it’s pointless. The Montague’s wouldn’t accept my help even if I offered.
“For the other families, sure.” Cat shoots me a look. “But not the Montagues. They’ll think you’re making fun of them.”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “I was just realizing the same thing.”
I want to voice this, but I don’t. Because Cat doesn’t know about all the times I met Roman Montague in cemeteries. She doesn’t know that I didn’t go after Marcia died, or that I wonder if he even noticed. I wonder if I’m feeling guilty for nothing—worrying that I hurt someone who takes nothing but pleasure out of hurting me.
* * *
It’s so dark when we arrive home it looks like midnight despite the fact that it’s barely 9:00PM. Still, I’m somewhat surprised that my house is fully lit up, and there are at least six cars parked in the enormous, U-shaped driveway.
The gravel of my driveway crunches under the wheels of the car, and dry leaves blow against the windshield as we park behind the last car and traipse into the house. We glance at each other as we ascend the stairs and a crowd of voices rings out from my parents’ bedroom.
“I’m going to my room,” Cat says. “I have to study.”
I nod vaguely. Virtually all she’s talked about for weeks is her favorite class: “From Medusa to Fleabag: Feminist Rage Through the Ages.” If she studies any more, she’ll be able to teach it. Granted, I’m sure this is more about not wanting to be around while I tell my mother about the chaos at the auction.
I heave a heavy sigh and head down the hall in the direction of the noise. I suppose I’ll have to tell my parents—more specifically my mother—sooner or later.
“Mom!” There are half a dozen people in my mother’s bedroom when I walk in, and I have to raise my voice to be heard over the sound of a blow dryer. I raise my eyebrows. “Mom?”
Finally, I spot her, standing on a pedestal on the far side of the room in a robe, with two women kneeling on the floor blow drying her ass. I stop and stare, caught somewhere between confusion and amusement.
It’s actually the blow dryer that throws me off more than anything—which is probably saying something. Electronics do work in tandem with magic, but they’re inconsistent and most Order members prefer not to use them if they can be avoided, even though the Order is well-entrenched in every level of modern tech and media.
There’s sort of an unofficial sliding scale for which items are used often, which are used sometimes, and which are ignored all-together in favor of runes or spell-jars. Things like cars and planes, where the alternative would be exponentially worse are always favored over magic and the Order simply avoids too much spell-work while traveling.
The internet and all social media is used often, but signals tend to get messed up by too much magic and cell phones often don’t work well in Stratford.
Plug-in appliances, like my mother’s blow dryer, are almost obsolete for fully pledged Order members. I still have to use them as I haven’t pledged yet, but my mother would be better off casting a heating rune.
I drag my gaze down the cord of the blow dryer and a part of me sags in relief when I realize it’s not plugged in. Thank the gods. Things haven’t gone completely backwards in the world—what with Roman Montague using a real lighter, and then my mother seeming to plug in an appliance I was nervous. But no…I guess it’s just Roman then.
“Juliette, come over here,” my mom calls over the noise. “I can’t hear you from there.”
“What…what are you doing?” I ask.
“Semi-permanent firming wrap. It’s likeSpanx,but it sticks to you.” She smacks her own ass and nearly takes the nearest helper’s head off. “You want some?”
“No,” I say firmly, watching a woman spread lotion over my mother’s thighs. At least it’s not the blood of virgins. That myth came from somewhere, and that somewhere isabsolutelyStratford. “Why are you doing this now?”
“It has to sit overnight.” She says this like I’m an idiot for not knowing. “It’s important to do it right before bed.”
“Right.” I take a seat on my parents bed and pick up a book from the bedside table on my father’s side—the only part of the room untouched by this madness. He’s reading a biography of Pamela Colman Smith and I flip through it for a few minutes, making a mental note to ask him how he’s enjoying it. I put the book down and refocus on my mother. “So, can I talk to you?”
