Curse the Dark (The Harstone Legacy Book 1)

Chapter 15

By the time Tilda and I got home after the coven meeting, my head was pounding. From the look on Tilda's face, I was pretty sure she had a matching headache. The meeting itself had been pretty quick. Information had been given and requests had been made. The majority of the evening had come after the witches had been asked to turn over any information they had on curses. It seems that despite what I had thought was a universal love for their coven leader, the realization that helping may open them up to serious sanctions had hit home. Some in the coven were desperate to help. Unfortunately, those were the least likely to have any of the self-incriminating information that we needed.

"Do you need anything before we turn in?" asked Tilda as she dropped her keys on the table.

I leaned back against a wall and closed my eyes. "The last couple of hours of my life back would be good."

A bark of laughter came from Tilda. "Yeah, that was fun to watch. I always thought our coven would come together in a crisis. Guess I was wrong."

"You never know, someone might come through."

Tilda slumped in a chair. "I always knew there was a possibility of contraband grimoires being out there, I mean, the rules on what kind of magic we can do are pretty harsh. It's like Prohibition. After years of drinking, trying to ban people from alcohol was always going to be a losing proposition. That's the same with witchcraft. For all of history, witches have been able to explore magic and try new things. They've written these spells down and passed them through the generations. Then, a few hundred years ago, they're told to stop and magic needs to be regulated because it's too dangerous. The original idea was good, it was to make us less of a visible target for witch hunters. I knew there'd have to be some who hid the not so squeaky-clean family grimoires, but it seemed harmless." She looked up at me. "It doesn't seem quite so harmless anymore.

Tilda looked back down and I saw a couple of tears drop into her lap. "I want Flora back. I want it to go back to what it was before there were curses and brutal murders. I want to still believe that our coven will always be there to protect each other, regardless of the personal cost."

I hurried over and put my arms around her. Her head rested on my shoulder and she started sobbing.

I muttered nonsensical words, assuring her that everything would be alright, even though I had a sick feeling it wouldn't be.

After a few minutes, Tilda slowly pulled herself together. She gave a short laugh as she wiped the tears away from her face. "And here I was worried about being around you when you had a meltdown."

"Don't worry, I'm pretty sure it's still in my future."

She leaned back against the couch. "Do you think you'll speak to Flora tonight?"

"I have no idea. I don't know how she managed to pull me into whatever nightmare she's living in last night, and I don't know how she would go about doing it again, or even if she still has the strength."

"If she does, could you tell her we miss her and to keep fighting. We want her back."

"I'll make sure I tell her," I said, quietly.

When I finally got to bed it didn't take long for me to realize that Tilda's question had been answered. I was back in the dungeon, and this time Flora was standing beneath the window, looking up at the moonlight that was streaming through.

"Where are we?" I asked. The moon I could see here was a full one, but back in Walker Bay we were just past the new moon.

Flora shrugged, the stiffness of the movement seemed to show pain. "I have no idea. Every night has been a full moon. Maybe it's part of the curse."