First Kiss Page 18

  She smells like my mother.

  I collapse into a ball of tears. She wraps herself around me, “Forgive me, child. We worked so hard and gave up everything to keep you safe, and you’ve gone and walked right into the lion’s den.”

  I sob harder.

  Sam grabs her, pulling her off of me. I don’t see what he does, but she cries out. I can hear his breath as he rages on her. “She has been beaten daily, locked in closets, tortured mercilessly, kept as a slave and alienated by everyone in our town except the kids our age. She hasn’t seen a single second of family love since her mother hanged herself. She is alone in the world, and none of her family here has welcomed her back. None. No one. This is insanity. If a member of my family was separated from us for a decade, I would have been worried sick about them, not acting like I couldn’t give a shit!”

  I look up to see her stunned face. She turns to me, “He defends you, like he loves you?”

  I nod as he tosses her back, away from us both, “I do love her. I’m the only one who even knows her.” He turns and looks at me—his eyes are wild. “I do love you. Let’s leave now. Come home with me and let me love you. Be the love of my life. You won’t ever suffer another day. We can’t stay here. I can’t watch them treat you like this. I’ve already watched you suffer for too long.”

  My eyes are filled with tears, happy ones. I sniffle and nod, taking his hand and standing. I look at my aunt, “Burn in hell, all of you.” I turn away with him. He pulls me to the horse but we both stop, as if we can’t move farther. I try to lift my leg but it stays where it is, planted on the ground. I look back at her; she cackles perfectly like she is Maleficent and about to turn into a dragon. She points at me, “How did you make a regular love you?”

  I look at him, “I never made him do anything.”

  “Have you never heard the legend about us?”

  “No.” I swallow hard as a cool breeze flits across my cheeks. “No, let us go.” I shiver, realizing it’s his hands that are freezing me. He is frozen. He is not moving or breathing. He is like a marble statue but in color.

  I pull my hand from his, grabbing his thick arm, “WHAT DID YOU DO?”

  “Saved him. He can’t come inside and he can’t stay in the woods alone. He’s safe that way. No one can see him but me and you, and no one can touch him. Bring your horse to my stable in the back and come inside. We have a lot to discuss.” She turns and leaves me there. I look down at my feet, taking a step towards Sam. I reach up, running my hands down his perfectly-frozen face. His hard cheeks are soft and cool. “I’ll be back in a minute and I’ll make her fix you.”

  I grab the horse’s reins and pull him to the back of the cottage. The small stable holds one horse already. I put mine in a stall with fresh water and hay. She must have seen me coming, seen Baylor though—not realizing it was me.

  I walk around the side of the cottage, running my fingers along the wooden planks making up the siding. I know this place, somehow. I open the wooden door and step into a place that seems much larger than it is from the outside and considerably finer than I would have expected.

  “Deceiving house.”

  She smiles from a pot over the wood-burning stove, “I like to keep appearances up.”

  I don’t know if I should sit or stand or leave altogether.

  “Have a seat.”

  I walk to the chair she points to and slowly lower myself, expecting it to be like the cartoons and grow arms, trapping me there. Instead, it welcomes me. The chair is soft and comfortable.

  “What do you know?”

  I shake my head, “Not a damn thing.”

  She smirks, “Baylor never told you anything?”

  “Nothing useful.”

  She sighs, “Well, let’s start at the beginning then, shall we?”

  “That would be an exciting change to the pace I’m getting used to. No one is ever straight with me. Everyone is treating me like I could go off at any second.”

  She nods, “I know that feeling. You and I have that in common.” She sits but the large wooden spoon continues to stir the pot, on its own.

  She sits across from me in the chair and nods, “When I was a girl, I discovered our family is cursed. Every couple generations, a witch is born—a black-blooded witch.”

  “What’s that?”

  Her right eyebrow cocks, “A witch that can do both black and white magic. Most witches are stuck with one or the other. But we can swing both ways. We are the only ones who ever get caught and killed. We have limited control over our magic; it’s explosive and destructive, and when it goes off we pay the consequences.”

  “And I am like you?”

  She nods, “You are. But that’s getting ahead of the story.”

  I smile, “Sorry.”

  “My mother discovered my black blood when I was seventeen. She arranged my marriage then, quickly before anyone found out what I was. My husband was dead within the year.”

  My stomach drops, “The curse is real?”

  Her eyes narrow, but she ignores my interruption. “I was sent home to live with my family, unsuspected of killing him. He died in his sleep at a hunting lodge in the mountains. The young woman who was in his bed died also. They assumed the food at the lodge had been bad, both had eaten the same meal. I was too far away to be considered and with too many witnesses to be blamed.”

  I don’t need to ask if she killed him; I can tell she did.

  “I went to live with my parents, rich and widowed. I spent my days happily. I went to the lake to swim that summer, and when I was underwater, I could swear something sang to me. I got up out of the water and couldn’t hear it. But when I dunked my head again, there it was. I asked my mother and she brought me an old journal of her aunt’s. I sat with her and read some of it. We did not see the same things on the pages. Where I could read one thing of great importance and desperate secrecy, Mother read something simple and unimportant.”

  I frown, “The writing was magic?”

  She shakes her head, “The book. Only ones such as you and I can read it. Baylor and your mother could never read it. We discovered your black blood when you were ten years old. We knew you would be a witch—all women in our family are. We never knew you would be like me.” Her green eyes burn with excitement.

  “How—when I was ten?”

  She cackles again, “You cursed your betrothed.”

  “Bash?” His name leaves my lips like a secret. I almost shake my head, but I wait it out. Perhaps there is an explanation.

  “You cursed him by bringing out an old gene trait our family helped them be rid of hundreds of years ago. The werewolf was a plague in their family for hundreds of generations. We saved them from it. That’s how we got into society and protected our family. The day you did it was awful. You overheard him discussing your sister and how beautiful she was. He could only pray you turned out like her in looks, but that the charming monster you were would vanish with age. You were so angry. You drew a picture of him both ways and burned it, blowing the ashes into the western winds. I know we never taught you that. It was then that I realized you had read it in the book you had seen here on one of your many visits.”

  I cover my face with my hands, “Oh God.” It feels true. It doesn’t feel like a lie.

  She nods, “It was a tragedy but we saved him. Baylor used her white magic and painted a portrait of him. One that made it so his changes would only happen when enraged. If he could control his temper, he would be the man in the portrait. He won’t age until she changes the portrait and ages him, but it is better than changing every time the moon is high in the night’s sky.”

  “Oh God. Baylor was saving him? He thought she was cursing him. He thinks Bay painted the portrait and that’s why he changed.”

  She nods, “We know. It’s why we sent him to the other world. Your mother searched time and space for a curse like ours. She could only put you into a family like ours. She couldn’t risk your magic being sparked by love. She needed
you raised aware of what you were, and the terrible dangers you had lurking inside of you. She found one, a family where the women kill the men they love and destroy the world around them. The poor Lochlan women of Lakeland. The curse was nothing, not even real but the whisperings of the fools in the town made it strong. We created the portal, and planned to take you and Bastion and his servant there. She would settle you into a life and come back. She took Bastion, in hopes that in a world with no real werewolves, he might not change and would instead heal. But he did change, the night that Bay painted him. We knew we had to move up our plans, leave before the baby was born. That was the last I heard from her.”

  My guts are burning and my heart is throbbing in my chest, feeling the wounds I have inflicted.

  “I’m dangerous?”

  She nods, “Especially to men who love you. They are always the ones who die first. Your anger and jealousy are intense. One mistake and the man is dead. That’s why we sent you away. You are dangerous. All the ladies of the Loch kill the men who love them.”

  I look down, “Is there any way to fix it?”

  She shakes her head, “I have searched long and hard, Lynnie. The curse on the black blood comes from an old legend. The translation is roughly, ‘There is a house at the end of an empty road, where many a man have lost their soul. Sweetest love's first kiss is enough to guarantee the payment to the dead. It was there in the mist and the warmth of her embrace, I met my end. I shall never rest again. Nor shall any man who gives his heart to a lady of the Loch.”

  I scowl, “That doesn’t even make sense.”

  She sighs, “No, it doesn’t. It has yet to be solved. No one remembers back that far, or how it started. It just is.”

  “My mom killed herself.” The words sort of fall out, floating in the air in front of us both.

  She winces, “I know. Baylor told me. She disobeyed me and went to get you and Rosie; she was worried after meeting the woman raising you. When she got there, Rosie was considerably older than she should have been. The woman who was raising you told her about your mother. She came back, a sobbing mess. I told her to go and get Rosie and we would raise her as a cousin. Keeping her safe from that evil woman. I told her that there was no way that we could help you.”

  A single tear drops from her eye onto her cheek and rolls slowly. She doesn’t blink the rest of the tears out. She just stares at me, like she is looking through me. I know it is a lie. I just don’t know if my aunt knows that. Either way, it makes me instantly uneasy. She shakes her head, “We couldn’t help you then and we can’t help you now. The magic is too strong and all it takes is a single act. One evil act will fill you with more power than any witch could handle.”

  I shake my head, “I won’t commit one.”

  Her eyes get sad, more attached to the story suddenly, “You already did, my precious. You cursed the heir prince. The magic is filling you now. Soon it will take you.”

  I look down again. “There must be a way.”

  “I do not know of a way to fix it.”

  I can feel something burning inside of me, like a bass is beating with my heart inside of me. “I will find one. Where are you and Mother from?”

  She looks like she might fight me on it, but she doesn’t. She nods, “The land of a thousand lakes, Nor Kena, past Norland, and then east. Our mother escaped with us when we were babies. She brought us here, running from the curse.”

  “Then I will go there and find out where the curse came from.”

  She grabs my hands, violently. “Break this curse, my dear.”

  I want to pull away. I don’t want her to touch me. I stand perfectly still, “I will and then I will free Bash from the terrible thing I’ve done to him.”

  She nods, “I believe if anyone can, it is you.” She looks out the window for a moment, “What about the young man?”

  I shake my head, “I don’t know. He’s all I have here.”

  She nods slowly, “That is a selfish decision, my dear. That is the evil in you thinking for yourself. You must free him.”

  My stomach aches and my heart hurts, but I have to see it her way. It’s selfish to want him here with me, even if he is the one who demands it. I shake my head, “He won’t leave me here.”

  Her eyes twinkle, “You must make him leave and let him start over. Make him forget you.”

  I almost cry when she says it; he really is the only person who even remembers me—really remembers me. He is all I have in the whole world. It seems my fate is to be constantly forgotten in some way or another by every member of my family, so why not him too? I nod once, holding back my heart. She turns and pulls a dark-purple cloth from a large piece of furniture. Behind it is a shiny mirror. I cannot see my reflection in it. I reach my fingertips, hesitantly and dip them into the space where the glass should be. “Where does it go?”

  “Wherever you want it to.”

  I swallow my feelings, taking a deep breath. “Mirror. Please mirror, show me Main Street in Lakeland.” The mirror darkens even more, and then slowly, dim lights start to appear as if they are stars showing themselves to me one at a time. I see they are streetlights, and then in the light they cast, I see buildings and windows. My heart feels like it is in my throat. I could jump through and be done with it all. I could leave and start over, and I know Sam would want me to.

  I turn and see my aunt is there and Sam is walking with her. He looks lost but he is not frozen anymore. “What did you do to him?” The whites of his eyes have swallowed up the color.

  She looks at him nonchalantly. “He is in a dream, so when he gets back it will be as if nothing has changed and he dreamt it all. Now help him through.”

  I reach over and take his hand, squeezing it tightly, but he doesn’t acknowledge me. I pull him tightly to me and tremble a little as I face the mirror. Silent tears leak from my eyes and I feel the pathetic wimp I have always been lingering inside of me. She is waiting for her chance to push me into the mirror too, rescuing me from this.

  I close my eyes and stand him in front of the mirror.

  “Take his memories of you. Hold either side of his cheeks and look into his eyes and steal them.”

  I take a breath and do as she has said. I look into the milky-white eyes and whisper, “Give me all your memories and feelings of and for me.”

  Sam’s eyes light up, but not like there is a pupil. In its stead, there is a show, a movie. It is made of flashes, images of me. He sees me on the street and I feel his heart beat faster when our eyes meet. His hand twitches like he wants to take mine but he fights it. He swallows his drink at the party and looks for a girl who will make him forget about me. He slaps his small hand down on the police officer’s desk and screams for them to do something—anything—to help me. He’s a boy and he knows Mary is beating me. He looks out the window of the store he’s in, seeing my mother walking down the road. He follows her up the hill all the way to the mansion. When he gets there, he sees her screaming and crying. She turns, seeing him. She grabs his arms, shaking him and crying about the way home and getting lost in her mother’s fog. He starts to cry; he’s eleven or twelve. She drops to her knees, digging her hands into the dirt and smearing it across her face. He sees the frightening sight and runs. There is a glimpse of someone, a girl with red hair and a cloak. She peeks at him from behind the decrepit old house, but he’s scared. He runs back to town. The branches scratch his face when he takes the short cut. He falls and hits his head. He wakes up in the hospital and when he’s leaving, they’re bringing my mom in, on the stretcher. She passes by him, her hand sticking out of the covers. I see something that doesn’t make sense to me—a ring on a finger that it should not be. I look down at my finger and a memory hits. I remember the ring all too clearly. I look up at Sam. I look back at my aunt, “My mom is alive.” I don’t mean to blurt it out.

  My aunt looks confused, “What? That is not possible. I have seen her death.”

  I nod, “I have too, but I think I get it. I think I get w
hat this is.”

  “Well, don’t be cryptic, child. What do you see?”

  I open my mouth to speak, but I have the faintest feeling I should not tell her. The faint feeling is confirmed by the ring I saw in Sam’s memory. The feeling comes from a whisper on the wind coming in the mirror. It is the same wind that has been with me from the beginning. I only now see that it never was my mother who was on my side. The wind is my dead sister, Baylor.

  It always was.

  She whispers words to me, telling me that I must keep this secret. I shake my head, “My mom is not alive. She is a ghost—she has tried to talk to me, I think. I have seen a memory I recall in Sam’s eyes that makes me remember something. Just Mom’s death.”

  My aunt nods, “Not uncommon for our kind. We see things we shouldn’t be able to.”

  The plot thickens.

  My mother is the person at the castle. She is the person pretending to be Baylor. She is the evil in the world.

  I cannot risk Sam to that. My mother killed her own child and cursed the other. She will stop at nothing to be queen.

  I smile through the pain and tears I am fighting and look into Sam’s eyes, “You do not remember ever knowing me. You are safe, and you do not recall this world at all, nor Bastion.” I bring his lips down to mine, and I kiss them ever so softly. They are exactly as I imagined they would be. They are warm and soft, and I savor every second they are pressed against mine. It is the first kiss I always wanted, but even now I am not having. He is soft to kiss but not present in the kiss. I push him into the mirror and watch as he walks out of a window and into the cool street.

  I have no idea how I am going to do what I think needs to be done now.

  Chapter Sixteen

  I ride the horse as hard and fast as I can. We cross rivers and fields and climb hills, until my butt is nearly killing me and my thighs are burning. I hate that I have to hurry. I want to stop and see it all. This is my home but I feel nothing for it. There is too much in the way. The map that my aunt gave me is straightforward, but I still have no idea where I am going. When I asked her for advice on magic, she told me to follow my instincts, that was it. No book of spells to learn or magical sisterhood moment. She gave me a creepy look and shrugged, “Follow your instincts.” It felt a little disappointing—I can’t lie.