Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 77293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 77293 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 386(@200wpm)___ 309(@250wpm)___ 258(@300wpm)
“Don’t take it like that, Avery!” Kaitlyn exclaimed. “You know we have faith in you!”
“Yes, you can do it!” Emma said earnestly.
“Do you want some help? Blood Magic kind of help?” Megan asked.
“No, this curse is for me to break,” I said firmly. “And besides, Princess Latimer, you know you’re forbidden to do Blood Magic on pain of expulsion.”
“I know.” She sighed. “But you’re my friend, Avery—my Coven mate. And Coven mates help each other.”
“What I need right now from all of you is just moral support,” I said. “I know where I can find help…I just hate to go there.”
“And where is it that you hate to go?” Kaitlyn asked.
“Home.” I sighed and ran a hand through my hair. “I’m going to have to ask my father for help with this and he’s just going to love seeing me with another male’s Mark on my forehead and hearing that I need his help to break the curse on my new boyfriend.”
“Oh, no!” Emma put a hand to her mouth and all three girls exchanged glances.
“It’s not going to be easy,” I told them. “I thought maybe I could ask you three to come with me?” I raised my eyebrows hopefully. “My dad is supposed to be home this weekend—at least that’s what my mom says.”
“Of course we’ll come, Avery!” Megan exclaimed. “I’ve always wanted to meet your parents. After all, you guys have come over to my Aunt Delli’s house before.”
“And you’ve all met my mom, too. My human mom, I mean,” Emma put in. Her biological mother had been the Princess of the Summer Court in the Realm of the Fae, but she’d been raised by a human woman who she still loved dearly.
Kaitlyn was silent—she had lost her parents in a house fire some years before, so we couldn’t meet them. It made me glad that she was Blood-Bonded to Ari, who loved her to distraction.
“Thank you—I knew I could count on my Coven,” I said, grinning at all of them.
“But Avery, don’t you think your dad might unbend just a little once he sees how happy you and Saint are together?” Megan asked.
“Oh, I doubt that very much,” I said dryly. “Look, you were raised in the human world and only came to the magical world recently. You don’t understand how deeply ingrained the hatred of LGBTQ people is, especially in old-school warlocks like my dad.”
“Come on, Avery—surely your dad doesn’t really hate you,” Emma objected. “I mean, he buys you nice things, doesn’t he? Not that gifts equal love, but still…”
“Yeah, it doesn’t seem like you’d buy someone you hate a new car,” Kaitlyn pointed out.
I raked a hand through my hair again. They knew the relationship between me and dear old dad was something less than ideal, but I hadn’t even told my Coven mates how bad it was. However, in the interest of coming clean, I thought I might have to share a little more than I had previously.
“All right,” I said. “Let me tell you a little story about me and my dad which might shed a little light on our relationship for the three of you…”
The three of them sat forward eagerly and I took a deep breath, trying to think how to begin.
“One night, about a week after I first flamed up and sewed patterns all over my mom’s dress with my magic needle, I was in bed when I heard raised voices in my parents’ bedroom. Now, this was not usual for my mom and dad—they weren’t loud fighters. In fact, for the most part, they didn’t fight at all. We had a very quiet, calm household so this was unusual for us,” I told them.
“I snuck out of bed and crept down the hallway, my ears perked to hear what was going on. The door to my parents’ bedroom was cracked, so the conversation was easy to hear—though not so easy to understand. At least not for six-year-old me.”
“Oh—what were they talking about?” Megan asked, her green eyes wide with curiosity.
“I wasn’t sure at first,” I told her. “I’ll tell you what I heard and you see if you can figure it out…”
“It’s a very safe place,” my father was saying. “They have almost a ninety-five percent success rate.”
“You’re not mentioning the other five percent,” my mother said, her voice flat. “The five percent who kill themselves when the conversion spell goes wrong. Like Jamie.”
“Oh for God’s sake!” my father snarled. “Why does it always come back to your brother?”
“You know why, Harold,” my mother snapped. “Because that’s what happened to him. My parents thought like you do—they decided it was worth the risk so they could have a ‘normal’ son. And look what happened—now they have no son at all. And I…I’ll never see my wonderful big brother again!”