Chapter 43

T here’s a heavy weight on my chest, and I shove it off, sharp nails digging into my skin as an irritated voice trickles into my head.

“Don’t tell me the old hag made you hate me too,” Walter says.

“Ugh, why are you talking so loud?”

“I didn’t say anything,” a deep voice says, as I quickly open my eyes to see the massive man from earlier.

He’s in my bedroom, staring at me.

I pull the soft purple comforter up to my chin and stare at the man for a moment. He’s huge, not bad looking…okay, he’s handsome, but he’s definitely a wolf. Why in the actual fuck would a wolf be in my bedroom right now?

I feel for my wand. Nothing.

I cast a quick wordless spell for my wand. Still nothing.

“Your mother took your wand for now,” the man says, and I can’t help but to slightly sneer at him. I’m not sure why I hate him, but it’s irrelevant.

“I’ve never met my mother. Why are you in my house?” I ask him.

His blunt nails drag against his beard. The sound is soothing. No, it’s annoying.

“If I were to tell you I was your husband and that your grandmother erased me from your memory, would you believe me?” he asks, his glowing amber eyes looking at me with sadness and hope.

“No,” I reply honestly. “I’d never marry a wolf,” I say.

The man laughs even though it’s evident that he doesn’t find it funny.

“Unfortunately, he may stink, but he doesn’t tell lies,” Walter tells me and I furrow my brows as I stare into his yellow eyes.

Walter is crotchety and irritable, but he’s not a liar. If anything, his dedication is solely to me. Why would he lie?

“And what he said about grand-mère?” I ask Walter, the man watching in fascination as I talk out loud to my cat.

“Sadly, true. The High Priestess may have done more to your mind than we realize,” Walter says, and I take a moment to think.

What memories do I remember? I remember my grand-mère always being there for me, raising me as her daughter. I remember growing up with Iris and Ember and the coven. The Celestial Coven is everything to me. I’ve never had a relationship, never even had any interest in anyone romantically.

I’m not married. My grand-mère wouldn’t do something like this, not to me. She loves me more than anyone. I’m the future of the coven. She wouldn’t.

“Get out,” I tell the man in front of me.

“Silas,” he says. “My name is Silas. We were best friends for sixteen years, growing up in an orphanage together. A few weeks ago, I moved to town and a hex you cast on your sixteenth birthday forced us to get married. We didn’t like it at first, but once we gave in the hex was lifted. We’re far more than husband and wife, Violet. I don’t care how long it takes for you to remember, but I’m not going anywhere.” He stands up and looks at me. “I’m going to give you your space right now, but I’ll be back later,” he promises.

I watch him leave and then fall back into bed. I want to wake up from this messed-up alternate reality. I also want my fucking wand.

It’s been hours of me pacing around my house, waiting for someone familiar to come by and tell me what’s going on. Instead, there’s a massive brown wolf pacing my backyard, nearly making a trail with the way his paws dig into the dirt as he walks around my yard.

“This is all so weird,” I say out loud.

“Trust me, I wish it weren’t reality either,” Walter sighs, plopping down against the back window where a stray sunbeam glistens through.

“Where is everyone?”

“Dealing out justice, I suppose,” Walter says.

“What does that mean?” I ask.

Walter just sighs, licking his paw, and not answering me. Typical.

The wolf doesn’t stop pacing, he seems restless, and almost anguished? No, surely not, he’s a beast, nothing more.

There’s a tap at my door and I take a sigh of relief, hoping it’s someone with real answers.

The same woman from earlier who looks just like me with bright blonde hair and my two best friends flank her, along with a prim calico cat that walks closely to the older woman. They almost look scared to approach me.

“Violet,” Iris says.

I narrow my eyes at her.

“Where’s my wand?”

“I have it. Can we sit down and talk about what happened? Give you your memories back?” the woman I only somewhat recognize as someone who could be related to me says.

“Who is the beautiful feline?” Walter says, threading through my own legs and I ignore him.

“Where is the High Priestess?” I ask.

Ember winces and grabs my wrist, which I quickly tug away. There’s hurt written on her pretty features, but she doesn’t say anything as she drops her hand.

“What have you done with her?” I say in an accusatory tone.

“Violet, will you let me show you a few things?” Iris says.

She pulls out her phone and opens up her camera reel, showing me pictures of us. With my hair two toned, a bright smile on my face. I grab the strands of my bright blonde hair between my fingers.

“Did I color it?” I ask.

“No, you never could, no matter what spells we tried,” Iris says with a light smile. “Can I show you some of my memories from the last week?” she pleads.

I look at Iris, and search my memories. Something lingers at the back of my mind, telling me I can’t wholly trust her. But that doesn’t make sense? How can she be my best friend and someone I can’t trust? Feeling like I have nothing to lose, I nod in agreement.

She smiles, interlacing our fingers and pressing our foreheads together.

The memories whip through my mind. The way we stood just like this as she granted me protection, and I made her take a vow of secrecy when I told her everything Silas told me. There’s a vision of going to New Orleans and making my mother regain her memories, of admitting what I am at the table to everyone. I gasp as that memory flies by. The last memory is of my grand-mère telling them that it’s too late, that I’m perfect now.

I pull back, my eyes wide as I look at her. I can tell her memories are real, but I don’t feel them myself. I have no memories of any of that happening. I glance over to the woman who’s my mother, who gives me a tear-filled smile.

“Will you let us bring your memories back?” she says.

I look back over at Iris. “This isn’t some big trick?” I ask her, and she shakes her head.

“Let us try and I’ll give you your wand back,” the woman—my mother—says.

If I wasn’t already motivated, that definitely pushed me over the edge as I sit on the floor, the three witches surrounding me. I take a few deep breaths as they chant, and I try to believe in what they’re telling me.

They chant the same words repeatedly, the same ones from Iris’ memory, but I don’t feel any different.

Suddenly, a memory fills me. It flashes by so quick I almost miss it.

“I’d be the best husband, and you know it. We’d be one of those couples who wanted to spend all of our time together. You wouldn’t be able to resist me. Honestly, the more I think about it, the sillier this pact is, because I think I’m going to convince you to marry me well before then anyway, Violet.”

The voice isn’t as deep as the one from the man in my bedroom, but yet, I can tell that it’s him. It’s hard to picture where we are, but I can hear his voice clear as day. As soon as the memory comes, I notice the chanting has stopped, and three concerned faces are staring down at me.

“The damage she caused in your memories is more vast than I realized. I think we’ll need the entirety of the coven,” my mother says and I look over at Ember, who is openly crying.

“Oh, Ember,” Iris says and Ember shakes her head, her wild strawberry blonde hair landing around her face.

“She was just so happy. I can’t believe she would take that away.”

“I was?” I ask.

Ember sits down on the floor, her bare knees hitting the wood as she cups my cheeks.

“You were. He makes you really happy, Violet. You were doing everything you could to make things right with the coven and the other supernaturals. You’re our best friend. I love you. I just want you to be you again,” she says.

I can’t help but to wrap my arms around her, as guilt consumes me. I care for Ember; I know that’s true. But I don’t feel the same way as she does, and I know it’s wrong.

They aren’t lying. Something is wrong with me.

“When can the coven convene?” I ask, holding back my emotions. They don’t need to know these conflicting feelings going on in my mind. Once we have the power of the whole coven, this will all be a distant memory… right?

“The full moon,” my mother says. “We’re going to need all the help we can get.”

I sigh in agreement as I look down at the floor where the two cats are sussing each other out. “This is my familiar, Marie. I didn’t think she’d be able to find me after this time,” my mother says lovingly and I look down at the cat, not feeling anything.

“Beautiful,” Walter says, nuzzling his head against the unfamiliar cat, but I suppose everything is somewhat unfamiliar right now. “Can we keep her?” my crotchety familiar nearly begs.

The multi-colored cat bats him across the face and Walter looks startled.

My mother laughs and I stand there, feeling completely out of place.

“I think I’m in love,” Walter says, the other cat sits primly, turning her head and ignoring him.

Days pass and I still feel indifferent to everyone around me. Deep down, I know I have feelings for these people, but there’s a wrongness I can’t shake.

I stare out the window.

Silas is back. Well, I suppose he barely leaves. He’s either in my backyard chopping wood to build Hecate knows what in my backyard, or he’s pacing around in wolf form. His presence is never ending and feels like a guillotine over my head.

I catch him glancing at the house every now and then, hopefully staring at the purple monstrosity like I’ll wake up and everything will be back to normal.

He seems sad and pissed off every time he swings the axe on a new piece of wood.

I shouldn’t be gratuitously staring at him, but he did just get hot and took his shirt off. He’s supposedly my husband, after all. I should at least be able to take a cursory glance here and there.

His large muscles flex each time he brings the axe down. He wipes his brow with a rag as he moves them over to the lake. There’s a small base of something that used to be there. It looks like he’s adding on to it.

Why? I have no clue. All I know is that every day, he comes here, works on his project and pouts. Then his wolf takes over at night.

The longer I look at his face, the more I realize he’s exhausted. Dark circles are heavy under his eyes and his beard is unkempt.

Why can’t I feel this connection we supposedly had?

Why can’t I feel anything?

My mother comes over for dinner. She does this every evening, like she’s trying to win my affection through my stomach. She also brings Marie, which makes Walter happy. At least someone in this house is enjoying themselves. Even if the female cat seems to make her disinterest known.

Today Lavender brought red beans and rice, which does help sway things in her favor. She takes a plate out to Silas and they talk for a few moments, and she pats him on the arm before heading back into the house.

I have a fork full of food headed toward my mouth when she speaks.

“Aster is at a facility for aging humans, and that’s where she will stay. She will live the rest of her life believing she’s a human, one of the very things she always hated. She will not have visitors, she will wither away in her own version of hell,” she says, not even an ounce of sadness in her tone.

“She’s your mother,” I chastise, sitting up straight.

I can flash through Iris’ memories, but I just can’t believe her memories over my own. I’m still having a hard time understanding how my grand-mère could do something so malicious?

“She raised me. She was there for me when you weren’t. You’re the one who left. All she ever did was look out for the coven,” I say, and my mother gives me a sad smile.

“The full moon is in two days. All will be well,” she says, but there’s still a furrow in her brow.

“Which assisted living facility?” I ask.

“It’s in Ohio,” my mother says with a smirk.

Grand-mere did hate any place above the Mason Dixon Line, especially a place like Ohio. It’s everything she would loathe.

“I think I’ve lost my appetite,” I say, excusing myself and going to my room and staring out the window.

Walter joins me and sighs as I pet his fur. Marie curls up next to him, and I swear my crotchety old cat smiles as she gives him some affection. But it doesn’t make me smile, it doesn’t make me feel anything. I feel wholly broken.

“I miss you, Violet,” he says, rubbing the top of his head against my jaw, before resting with his new kitty girlfriend.

How much of myself have I lost, and will I ever get it back?