Sebastian Sallow Fucking Sucks

Chapter Thirteen

[Author's Note]

Sorry this took a minute to publish. MC was giving me some issues, and I had to fistfight her to figure out her motivations - and even then idk I gave up lol.

I wasn't paying attention again and wrote a monster 12k+ chapter, so I've sliced it in two this time. As long as a meteor doesn't come careening out of space and bonk me in the head, it should mean the next chapter will be here ASAP as it's 85% written already. The only screw up is the angst I was so excited about is not in this chapter...It's in the next lol sorry🤷‍♀️

Anywho....Thanks for the support and kind words🥰

***

It felt wrong being in Feldcroft without Sebastian. Especially considering Solomon had banned him from stepping foot near their home. My understanding from Ominis was Solomon had put up protection spells designed specifically to track Sebastian's magical signature. That way he'd know if his nephew was attempting to break in. The idea made my stomach churn as if I'd been chugging mud from a Butterbeer stein.

So idly walking to their front door, I had to force myself to knock after staring at the dying ivy clinging to the roof, the terracotta pots gritty and cracked. Gardening trimmers snapped mercilessly at knotted dead weeds, an old charm still not retired. I swore the garden had been thriving the last time we were here, but the winter was merciless even if the snow wasn't sticking today. It, among other things, had eaten away the life of this place.

The last time you were here, Sebastian made a goblin slit its own throat.

The door creaked open. "There you are."

My eyes snapped up. Anne said it so much like Sebastian.

"Here I am." I swallowed the lump in my throat. No beating around the bush. Without the boys around, we didn't have to play at pleasantries.

"Come in." She left the door open, not checking over her shoulder if I followed. "Uncle Solomon is out on some errands so no one will interrupt us."

She eased into her chair at the rickety kitchen table-the place I'd first awkwardly met her. Nothing like watching the boy you liked nearly strangle his uncle while his sister cried. Such fond memories.

I felt the strange urge to keep my wand out, but that was ridiculous. It was her curse. It set me on edge. If it'd truly been Rookwood who cursed her-and if there was a genetic component to ancient magic-it could be why it made my skin crawl.

I let myself take it in, and my body tensed, probing the rotting mass for something familiar. It was thick, volatile, like digging my fingers through a bog, and I clamped my jaw.

Something shifted, stirring as if it sensed me.

I ripped away.

Merlin, I wouldn't be doing that again.

"I wanted to talk without Ominis." Anne turned to look back at me, and I forced myself to sit across from her in a chair that dipped too much to the right. The cottage stank of medicinal potions and peppermint. "He means well..." She sighed, arranging a freshly folded stack of linens.

"But he can be a pain."

"In the ass," she added.

I caught myself smirking, and I pinched my thigh.

She studied me, gaze flicking from my face to the rest of me just like Sebastian might. No one could deny she was a Sallow.

"Would you like some food? Or tea?"