Chapter 13

CHAPTER 13

A melia had never felt so sated and yet also so certain that she was exactly where she was supposed to be, doing exactly what she was supposed to do.

She was meant to have come here, to Blackwood Manor, and to meet Max.

She was bound to him in a way that she couldn’t explain. She just didn’t know whether it was for now or forever.

But Amelia was not one to make plans for the future. She preferred to take things day by day, for she had discovered long ago that plans often never resulted in the way she envisioned them.

She had spent the entirety of the previous night in Max’s bedroom, cocooned in a curtain of magical protection. When they had come together, so had all of their abilities, in a mixture of color, elemental magic, and a shield of protection that kept them safe from any curse or other threat.

But they could not stay hidden in a bedroom forever, as much as both of them would like to. And so, this morning she had risen with renewed purpose to determine just how they were supposed to find the answers to breaking this curse and its hold on Max and his family – present and future.

“What do you think this is going to accomplish?” Max asked as they walked through the halls of the manor. Every time they passed a painting, Amelia paused, closed her eyes, and touched her fingers to the canvas, trying to read into it.

“I’m trying to see if any of the paintings might provide us a clue on how to break the curse,” she said. “Perhaps while I am doing this, you could ask your grandfather.”

“He won’t speak of the curse,” he said, shaking his head. “I can understand why.”

“Ask again,” she urged. “Just one more time.”

He looked at her from the corner of his eyes before sighing and taking her hand. “Very well.”

Can you tell us more about how we break the curse?

Amelia jumped at the voice in her head. She looked at Max and dropped his hand, the voice going silent. She took it once more and the voice resumed. Her breath caught. She could hear the voices through her physical connection with Max.

You’re on the right path. Find my portrait. The answers are there.

It would be a lot easier if you just tell me.

I cannot.

Why not?

It is part of the curse itself. But remember that such an act does not come without great sacrifice.

“He said that we have to find his portrait.”

“I know,” Amelia whispered. “I could hear.”

He seemed surprised but accepted the news. “Follow me.”

He led them down the grand staircase, past the study and the library, until they emerged in what would have been a small ballroom at one point in time. Amelia paused, admiring the statues that stood sentry in the doorway.

“It’s in here?”

“Yes. Once we stopped hosting balls, the family began to use this room as an art gallery. It’s where many of the paintings are stored.”

He led her into the room, a musty air surrounding them. Amelia wondered when anyone had last actually used it.

It was, however, the place where all the art that had been showcased in Hampstead Heath had been returned. She could see that those pieces were not as dusty as a few of the others.

Since none of those statues or paintings had called to her there, she ignored them as she followed Max to the portrait in question.

“This one,” he said, pointing to a portrait near the back of the room. It featured a man who looked something like Max, although his hair had a curl to it, the hardness in his eyes catching Amelia off guard.

The portrait was set against a backdrop Amelia recognized as the drawing room of Blackwood Manor, which still held the same heavy crimson drapes and dark wood paneling. Painted around him were subtle signs of power and legacy, including the family’s coat of arms and a grand fireplace that she was not certain was actually present in the room.

Max’s grandfather stood regally before it all, his commanding presence exuding confidence. His face toward them was stern but fair.

She noted that he wore a family signet ring on his right hand, and a watch chain peeked out of his waistcoat pocket.

“This was a different painter than the one who painted Isolde,” she murmured, sensing Max moving in closer to her side. “The lighting is warm and dramatic, and there is still a rich color palette, but more muted. The textures are meticulous, but much different than in Isolde’s painting. This was painted to showcase his power, unlike Isolde’s, which was painted to show the love that someone had for her.”

“I am certain you are correct,” Max said. “My grandfather’s portrait would have been painted by the same artist who did all of the family’s. I believe my grandfather privately commissioned Isolde’s.”

She stopped, sensing the charge emanating from the portrait before she even put her hands to it.

“He’s a handsome man,” she said with a look back at Max, whose lips began to turn upward until they descended into a frown. “He liked that, didn’t he?” she laughed, sensing that his grandfather must have had something to say to Max about her comment.

“Not much he can do about it as I’m the one still alive,” he snorted, and Amelia rolled her eyes before returning to the painting. “Well, Grandfather Edward,” she said. “Let’s see what you have to say for yourself.”

A thought struck her as she considered how strong her abilities had become when combined with Max’s, and she reached out and took one of his hands in hers before she placed her other one on the portrait.

“Here we go,” she murmured as she closed her eyes and surrendered to the painting and whatever it had to show her.

Whenever Amelia saw into a painting, it was not a surprising thrust but rather a gentle welcome into the world beyond it. She sought out the story she was looking for, asking Max to help her by asking his grandfather to guide them. She sensed his reluctance, but they broke through, and soon enough, the man who had been standing motionless in the painting came to life, walking in front of them.

Amelia couldn’t have said whether she was seeing him in her thoughts or whether he was truly walking the floors of Blackwood, but to her, he was as real as Max himself beside her.

“Welcome to Blackwood Manor,” he said, his voice low and otherworldly. “You fit in well here, Miss Lennox.”

“Thank you,” she said simply, waiting for him to continue. She had always found that spirits liked to be given the time to speak, for it had been so long since they’d had an audience to do so.

“What answers do you seek?”

“The curse,” she said, sensing a rumbling from beyond her even just upon saying the words. “We want to know how to break it.”

The spirit nodded as he looked first to her and then to Max, who appeared to be standing right next to her.

“You know that is a dangerous ask.”

“Do you know the answer?”

“I do,” he said. “I was there when most of the curse was cast.”

“We know,” Amelia said. “We heard the curse being cast as well. What we don’t know is how to break it. Isolde never said anything about how to do so.”

“She said that love was required.”

“We did hear that.”

“I already told my grandson here that you must make great sacrifices if you want to do this.”

“What does that even mean?” Max interjected. “I have nothing left to give.”

“Do you not anymore?” his grandfather said, his eyebrows raised as he looked in Amelia’s direction.

Amelia’s heart began to beat faster. If his grandfather felt that they meant something to one another, could Max’s feelings for her be as strong as hers for him?

“Very well,” he continued. “If you need all of the steps on how to go about this, then here is what you must do. The first concerns the portrait itself. Miss Lennox should continue to restore it. Within the painting, you will find hidden symbols and incantations that are crucial for breaking the curse.”

Amelia wished she was able to write all of this down, but she would just have to remember it.

“Then you will need Max himself and the abilities that he has finally recognized. If he channels fire, water, earth, and air, he can surround the portrait and the ritual site with a protective spell.”

“Ritual site? Where is that?”

“Where it was cast, of course.”

“The music room,” Amelia breathed. “Of course that is where it would be.”

Max’s grandfather wasn’t finished yet. “Maximillian, you have finally learned to embrace the voices inside your head. You have this young lady to thank. Do not shy away from that ability. You will need us now more than ever.”

“To do what?” he asked.

“To help you. To talk to you. All you need to do is stop closing us out.”

“Very well,” Max grumbled.

“Finally, the curse will require sacrifice from you. Some of it is physical sacrifice. You must find something that was meaningful to Isolde, and you must also be willing to give away all of your powers as you bring the past to light and look forward to the present.”

“Give away all of our powers?” Amelia asked, and Max’s grandfather harrumphed.

“The curse will only mean something if you are willing to give every part of yourself – emotional, physical, spiritual.”

Amelia’s jaw went slack at the words, for she knew that a spirit was not going to lie – he was truthful about everything he said, meaning that the breaking of this curse could be more than she had ever bargained for.

“No,” Max said, stepping forward powerfully, placing an arm in front of Amelia in a gesture that was both incredibly annoying and yet also admirable as well. “I am willing to sacrifice parts of myself for this, but Amelia should not have to do so. She came here only to restore a painting, not to break a decades-old curse and lose something of hers in the process.”

“Do you not think that is for me to decide?” Amelia asked drolly, lifting one of her brows.

“I do not want you to do it for me,” he insisted, and Amelia felt a small piece of her heart die at that. For the more time she spent with him, the closer to him she was drawing. She would do this for him, yes, but because she saw a future together with him. She had no idea how long that future together would be, but she wanted to fight for him.

Perhaps that was the only option here. She would rather see him live a happy, curse-free life, even if it was without her in it.

She squeezed their hands where they were still interconnected.

“Let me give you this one last gift,” she urged when she noted that his own face was shuttered.

“Even if it takes everything from you?” he said.

“I am sure there are ways around it,” she said. “But I do not back away from a challenge, and I am willing to take on Isolde.” She tugged on Max’s hand and they stepped back, away from the painting. “It seems that we are on our own. Your grandfather spoke in circles. But there is one thing that I have taken away from that for certain.”

“What’s that?”

“I must work on Isolde’s painting. And I must do it sooner rather than later.”

“What am I to do in the meantime?” Max sounded helpless.

“You practice and you perfect your abilities. Speak with the elements. Weave protection spells. I know you can do it.”

“And if I can’t?”

“You can . I’ve seen you do it. Open yourself up and allow the magic to flow through.”

“Very well,” he sighed, stepping backward and looking around him as though he had forgotten where they were. His grandfather had returned to the painting, apparently having imparted all of his knowledge.

“Well,” Amelia said, turning and beginning to walk away from him, hips swaying from one side to the other as she went, “I best begin my work on this painting. Wish me luck.”

“You don’t need luck,” Max called out after her. “Not when you have everything else you’d ever need.”

And, buoyed by his belief in her, Amelia squared her shoulders and went to find Isolde. She was going to break this curse. She just had to ask for a little bit of help first.