Страница 62 из 90
“Curses aren’t real,” I say softly, and I feel Sam’s arm brush against mine. I flinch away from him. The traitor.
Veronica tsks, waggling her index finger at me. “Neither are witches.”
She has a good point. I continue to listen.
She places the chain back into the box. “By the time I found out, it was too late. I was already eight months pregnant and ready to give birth. I was the leader of The Coven, so essentially, I didn’t owe any of them an answer as to who the father of the baby was.” My stomach coils. “The Coven and Elders were furious when they found out that it was not only not conceived by our code, but by an Elite King. You have to understand, there are stories of the time Humphrey Hector Hayes was alive. The Kings were not who they are today, and most of the witches kept them to that standard. Everything you know about them is minuscule to what they were back then. Anyway,” she says, taking another cigarette out of the pack and lighting the tip. She inhales and exhales. “My sisters were furious, as was I with my pregnancy. They performed a ritual in the garden the night I gave birth and then tied me to a cross, much like the crucifixion of Jesus.” Veronica leans forward and flicks the ash off her smoke. “They cut him from my womb and sent him to be destroyed, Saint. I helped them because I wanted to earn back their trust. He was to be sent straight to The Lost Boys for execution.” She leans back in her chair and I have to stop the visuals from flashing through my head. I feel sick to my stomach, thinking of Brantley as a sweet baby, being carried off to be executed. “Obviously, he was saved by someone, but the witches never knew by who.”
“Wait!” I stop her with a single word. “Who saved him?”
She stares off into the distance. “I still don’t know.” Her mouth twists and the furrow lines between her brows deepen. “But I have my suspicions.”
“You sent your baby to be killed?”
She flicks her nails and shrugs. “Yes. I would do what I had to do. Lucan was a mistake.”
“You’re disgusting. Lucan found out, didn’t he? About your plan to kill the baby.”
“Ah, Brantley was right about you. So smart. Yes, he found out, but it’s not what you think. Lucan wasn’t evil. My son, he is evil. Lucan is not. Lucan is simply soulless. I thought I was free when they took him.” She blinks, her dark lashes fa
Curses, witches, and warlocks. It’s all folklore and fantasy, and deep down, I wonder if Veronica is unstable, at best. But then I remember what I’ve been through with Ava Garcia and now Lucan. Maybe I’m just psychic. It doesn’t explain the witches she recruited or the history of The Daughters of the Night, nor does it even touch the subject of said male witch seated beside me.
“I knew I could never set foot near Lucan again without him burning my eyes from my fucking sockets, so I went straight for Brantley. He was hard to crack at first, but he grew to trust me. Literally.” She sighs, stomping out her cigarette butt. “When I learned of you, I knew you had to be the riddle to crack the curse code. You were half-King and half-witch, though not my daughter—” She smirks, ru
“She is fine, and I’m sure she will be handling this island the same way she does her mouth. With teeth.”
Veronica chuckles. “So cute.” She jumps back into her story time. “As years went on and you grew older, I knew you were it. I knew I had to continue to keep Brantley close to me in order to stay close to you, too, because when the time came and I needed you, I knew I would need to go through him first.”
“To break the curse?” I say, confused.
She smiles sweetly. “Yes.” Lie. Every single time she talks about this “curse,” waves roll off her and smack me against the chest. She’s lying.
“How?” I’m humoring her at this point.
“Well, by killing you, of course, but only after you’ve given me exactly what I want.” Her eyes flick down to my belly. “That.”
Her lips curl beneath her teeth, but her eyes spark with a kind of light I never thought I’d see through the darkness she carries so well. “Because you, my dear little Hecate, are pregnant.”
“What?” I gasp, my hand protectively going to my belly. “No, I’m not.”
She slinks back in her chair. “Yes, you are, and even more so?” Her head tilts. “Is that you’re going to stay right here until that baby is born, and then I’m going to do what I should have done all those years ago but couldn’t.” She stands from her chair, clapping her hands together. “So, are you hungry and what for? Congratulations. You’ve earned whatever you want to eat for the remaining—” her eyes fall to my stomach, “six months.”
I don’t answer. My mouth refuses to move as she laughs her way out of the same door the other boy went out of. When she’s gone, I turn to Sam. Sam, who I thought was my friend. “Is what she is saying true? I’m on contraception. It’s impossible.”
Sam doesn’t look down at me, keeping his eyes trained in front of him. “Whatever I tell you, you won’t believe me.”
“Try me, traitor,” I mumble, suddenly nauseous. I have been spewing lately. I still, my muscles frozen. And eating weird food. “Oh God…” I thought I wasn’t getting my period because of the pill. It would do that sometimes; they were always irregular. “Oh my God!” I stand from my chair and begin twisting the door handles to see which ones are unlocked.
“There’s no point. They all lock from the outside and only one leads up to the mainland.”
“I don’t want to talk to you, Sam.” I turn to face him, my breathing ragged. I need to get out of here. I try to swallow everything that has happened to me over the past couple of months but fail when a tear slides down the side of my cheek. I swipe it away angrily before Sam sees it.
He makes his way to me and grabs my hand.
“Hey!” I snap at him, pulling out of his grip, but it’s no use, because he’s dragging me to a single door that isn’t locked and shutting it behind himself. We’re inside a room now, with a bathroom and a small kitchen. No windows again.
“Madison and Tillie are here. I’m going to get you out, but you have to be patient.”
I squeeze his arm. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. Let me go.” I turn to reach for the door handle when he slams it closed in front of me.
“Saint, listen to me very carefully, because when we’re not in this room, there are eyes and ears on us.” I hold my breath. “I work for The Kings.”
I swing around, my fist flying into his cheek. Pain erupts in my knuckles when he stumbles backward, his eyes ablaze. “I don’t believe you!”