Chapter 17

James was roused a second time by someone knocking on his door.

"Wake up, James. It's sunny outside," a cheerful Sebastian called from the hall.

James groaned. "Coming. Just give me a minute."

The grandfather clock outside his room said it was almost noon. James couldn't remember the last time he'd slept that late. Not that it mattered. He had nowhere to be, or more accurately, had no way of getting to where he needed to be.

He found a bottle of painkillers and a glass of water waiting for him in the hall bathroom. The bruising on his face looked worse than it felt. He had a black eye and nice greenish-purple mottling over the bridge of his nose, which matched the bruises on his shoulder and hip from when he'd tackled Sebastian to the ballroom floor.

James took the medicine and a quick shower before going to confront Stephen's clothes. Eventually, he found Sebastian in the kitchen.

Sebastian's lips twitched at the sight of James. He quickly turned away to pull a quiche from the oven. "You look good retro."

James was wearing a button-down teal-and-white bowling shirt that he had mixed feeling about. He looked down at himself. "You didn't give me any T-shirts to choose from."

Sebastian set the quiche to cool on a butcher's block and began heating water for coffee, keeping his face turned away from James. He made a snorting sound, suspiciously close to a laugh, before collecting himself. "Stephen wasn't a T-shirt guy, even when he was younger. I think he was in a bowling league before he got trapped here."

James grabbed two mugs out of the cupboard. "I should have asked Eli for some clothes last night. Though I suppose the spell wouldn't have let me." He didn't actually care about looking silly. If it made Sebastian smile, James would take it. What he wasn't keen on was wearing hand-me-down underwear, and there were only so many days he could keep reusing his current pair.

"I can order you some things. Just let me know what you want." Sebastian scooped sugar and powdered creamer into his mug, eyes darting to James, then away.

The kettle whistled.

James helped himself to the powdered creamer. "Order things how?" It wasn't as if mail-order catalogs still existed, and stores didn't generally respond to handwritten letters, as far as he was aware.

Sebastian poured hot water over the coffee grounds in the French press. "My lawyer orders anything I need. I just have to send him a letter detailing what I want, and he has it delivered to the house. The Storms have had a trust managed by a firm down in Sacramento since forever."

"So you're going to ask a lawyer to buy me underwear?" James found the idea incredibly embarrassing.

"He's used to it. Underwear isn't the most scandalous thing I've asked him to buy." Sebastian raised his brows and leveled a pointed look at James. "It's not like he isn't paid for his time. It's part of the arrangement—most expensive personal shopper ever." Sebastian began serving up the quiche as if that settled things.

"How will I pay you back?" James had the grim realization that if they never got out of here, he'd never be able to work again.

Sebastian waved him off. "Don't worry about it."

Yeah, that wasn't going to happen. James's primary occupation was worrying. "How do you even have money?" The rude question slipped out before he remembered to be tactful, the need for details outweighing everything else.

Sebastian was acting like clothing and feeding James, possibly indefinitely, wasn't a big deal. Sure, Sebastian grew his own produce, but he had other food and general supplies delivered. He must be paying for it—along with water, gas, and property taxes—somehow. James would worry about all of this, as well as being a burden, if he didn't know how any of it was covered.

Sebastian looked up from cutting the quiche. "The trust has a pretty healthy investment portfolio." He didn't sound bothered by James's nosiness. "Grandma Selma set it up a few years before she died, so she wasn't all about screwing over her descendants. She knew whoever was stuck here wouldn't be able to work outside of taking care of the property but also couldn't be completely self-sufficient."

James wanted to ask where the money to fund the trust had come from and how it hadn't run out. But it was none of his business, so he made himself stop prying. Besides, with a house like this, the Storms had probably been rich to begin with.

"Let's take breakfast outside," Sebastian said once the coffee was poured.

James had no objections now that being outside didn't make his skin crawl. Sebastian led him through the mudroom—where the abandoned circuit board still lay on the floor—past the raised vegetable beds and greenhouse and through the fruit trees.

A picnic table sat next to the apricot trees in a patch of sun. It really was a beautiful day. The morning would have been cold, maybe even frosty, but by now, it was clear and perfectly still.

They set their plates and coffee mugs on the table and enjoyed breakfast in silence. There was a barn off to their right, close to the stone wall edging the property. James wasn't surprised to find it painted dark green.

Sitting out here was more relaxing than it had any right to be, given James was a prisoner of the damned property. He had to admit, without the haunting effects, the place wasn't bad.

As they lingered over their coffee, the cow wandered up, eating the grass beneath the trees.

"What's the deal?" James pointed to the cow. "Fresh milk?"

Sebastian wrinkled his nose. "Miss Moo is not a milking cow."

James choked on his last sip of coffee. "I'm sorry. What did you call her?"

Sebastian's cheeks turned pink, and he glared at James. "Miss Moo is a perfectly good name for a cow."

James suppressed the urge to laugh. "Okay. But why do you have a cow?"

"To eat the grass," Sebastian said like this was obvious. "I can only take so much of the push mower. Plus, she's a nice pet."

"I'm surprised you don't have a cat or a dog or something." Now that he thought about it, James figured a dog would have helped the place feel less lonely.

Sebastian stared off toward the barn. "I considered getting a dog but worried how I'd cope when they died." His words came out brittle, breaking James's heart.

"The cow is a good compromise," he offered, hoping it was the right thing to say.

Sebastian looked back at Miss Moo and shrugged. "I didn't get her as a pet, strictly speaking. Like the chickens, she had another purpose."

"Keeping your lawns under control?" James hadn't realized there were chickens. He should have guessed the eggs were coming from somewhere. Store-bought ones had to be refrigerated after all.

Sebastian considered the cow more closely. "Yeah, the grass. But I actually had this wild idea I could use Miss Moo to free myself from the curse."

James sat up straight. "How?"

Sebastian leaned his arms on the table, resting his chin on his hands. "I was hoping to transfer the curse to her—it's not like she'd care about not leaving the property—but I knew my magic wasn't strong enough to pull it off. I never ended up trying, in case I drained myself to death."

The thought of Sebastian dying during a spell gone wrong jolted through James like he'd been physically struck. He couldn't bear the thought. "In that case, it's a good thing you didn't try." He took a breath and looked at the cow. "But now that I'm here, we have more power. Do you know how to transfer the curse? Is that even possible?"

A flicker of hope settled some of James's discomfort but not all of it. He hated thinking of Sebastian dying in some hypothetical scenario where he'd tried the spell on his own. As often happened to James, his concern wouldn't go away now that the possibility had entered his mind. It didn't matter that he was worrying about something that hadn't happened and wouldn't happen. His brain treated it like any other worry that plagued him. Having something to latch onto and potentially solve the problem was one of the only things that kept his fear under control.

Sebastian's expression turned dark in response to James's question. "I know the curse can be transferred. I've seen it done." He didn't immediately elaborate.

"Well, don't kill me with anticipation," James grumbled.

Sebastian laughed, his face transforming as he focused on James, but his subdued demeanor returned quickly. "The Storm curse claims the firstborn child of whoever it's currently latched onto unless that person has no kids like Uncle Stephen, then it moves to the sibling's children. The curse should have gone to my older sister, Kira."

James frowned. "Why didn't it?"

Sebastian made a sound like he was exhausted by life. "Kira was two years old when the curse passed to Uncle Stephen. Stephen was single and had never planned to have children of his own, not to mention he was suddenly stuck on the property and unable to meet someone to have a kid with, even if he'd wanted. Mom knew her daughter was doomed to be next in line and became determined to save her from Storm House."

James really did not like where this was going.

Sebastian continued, "Mom apparently searched the house looking for information on the curse. She read through all the papers and notebooks until she found a note from Selma. In the event that the person cursed had no children and there were no other living Storms left, she had given us instructions on how to transfer the curse to someone else. Stephen said he wouldn't do it. He wouldn't damn some unsuspecting person to our family's burden. Mom just wanted the curse off Kira and didn't care where it went after her brother died. So she came up with a plan."

Sebastian went quiet, picking at the wood of the picnic table. "She got Stephen to agree that if she had another kid, they'd transfer the curse from Kira to them. That way, it was still in the family." He paused, still picking. "And I didn't know any of this shit until Stephen was dying. But it explains so much." His words faded, swallowed by something James couldn't fathom.

He got up and rounded the table, coming to sit beside Sebastian. After a long moment, Sebastian shifted until their shoulders touched.

"My mom decided to have a spare baby to save her daughter. She was a single mom to Kira from the start and always told me my dad didn't know about me. They hadn't been together long, and it wasn't the same man who'd fathered my sister. Growing up, my mom was so distant toward me, and I never understood why. She'd always say I had to spend time with Uncle Stephen during the summer to have a ‘man's influence.' She told me that's why I had to move here permanently during high school. I tried to explain to her that was bullshit on about a million levels. All I ever needed was my mom. But anyway. It makes more sense now that I know about the curse. She didn't want to get attached. I think she wanted to dump me off with Stephen as soon as I was born, but he refused. He told me he'd changed his mind about transferring the curse. How was one child getting it any better than the other? He and my mom apparently fought about it for years."

The quiche wasn't sitting well in James's stomach. "Jesus. I'm sorry, Sebastian."

He shrugged, their shoulders rubbing together. "I only brought it up because they didn't transfer the curse until I was twelve and Kira was fifteen. I remember the ritual pretty well. They didn't tell me or Kira what they were doing, of course. They said it was about enhancing family magic, but it was a flimsy lie."

"Do you think we can repeat the ritual? Remembering something from fourteen years ago would be pretty hard, at least with the kind of detail we'd need to pull this off." James wasn't sure about the idea at all. "I mean, look at the mess we made of unbinding your tongue."

"We need to consider it much more closely than we did our last foray into blood-and-bone magic, that's for sure." Sebastian grimaced. "But let's not write it off yet. I have no other ideas, and if we have enough power between us, it might be our only hope to get free."

"Any spell like that is way beyond my skill set." James wanted to be clear. "I only did the unbinding ritual because I had instructions from that book, which I double-checked with sources online. Do you still have Selma's notes on how to do it?"

"I haven't been able to find them," Sebastian admitted. "But they have to be here. Besides, I wrote down the whole ritual after it happened. I could tell something dodgy was going on, and I wanted to try and figure out what we'd really been doing in the woods that night. So even without Selma's notes, we have a lot to go on."

James wasn't convinced. The account of a twelve-year-old was far from foolproof. But like Sebastian said, it might be their only hope.

Sebastian gazed up at the apricot tree nearest them. "Want to help me pick these? I should have started on it days ago."

James glanced at the tree. "Shouldn't we try to find Selma's notes first?"

Sebastian rose from the table and walked off toward the barn. "I've already spent countless hours looking for them. It could be a while before they turn up if they ever do. I don't want the fruit to go to waste."

James trailed after him. "But putting off searching isn't going to help us get out of here."

Sebastian opened the barn door and faced him. "Look, James, I've been at this a while, and what I've learned is you have to live your life and take care of yourself first. Yes, we could spend the next few hours or the next week looking for the notes. But what if we never find them? What if we can't do the spell, even with instructions? And, on top of that, all the apricots have spoiled. Let's look for the papers tonight and enjoy the sun while it's out."

James got where Sebastian was coming from but found it hard to suppress his urgent need to escape Storm House. Being trapped was all new to him. His gut told him he needed to be doing something about it, that he shouldn't rest until he escaped. But Sebastian was probably right. Burning themselves out on what might be a long and fruitless search wouldn't be good for morale in the long run. James needed to adjust his expectations and come to terms with the possibility he'd be here for a long time, even if that scared him.

James gestured inside the barn, committed to trying. "You're right. Let's pick some fruit." After all, there were worse things to be doing than soaking up some sun with Sebastian.

They grabbed wicker baskets and a long stick-like tool with clippers on the end.

Back at the trees, Sebastian separated the baskets. "Put all the really ripe ones in here so we can eat them first and chuck anything gross on the ground for the birds."

"Sure." James eyed the first tree. Its branches were heavily laden.

The long clippers had an open sack and pulley string attached. James watched Sebastian use it to gather the fruit from the top of the tree. His restless urge to return to the house and look for the notes faded. He could officially watch Sebastian do anything, especially stretching his long arms above his head while the hem of his T-shirt rode up. The sliver of exposed skin was tempting, especially knowing what Sebastian looked like bare-chested.

Sebastian caught him staring and winked. James shook himself and started picking apricots.

James had never been one for gardening. Doing yard work for his grandma, and now for himself, had always been a chore he'd grumbled about. He didn't expect to like picking fruit at the best of times, and certainly not when he was ignoring monumental problems.

He enjoyed himself anyway. The sun was warm, and Sebastian hummed while he worked. The whole thing was enjoyable, from eating sweet apricots and watching birds to Sebastian accidentally dropping fruit on James's head and dissolving into a fit of giggles at the look on his face. James was beginning to see why people went apple picking as a date.

Once six baskets of apricots were settled in the kitchen, Sebastian dragged James along to the vegetable garden. He had a pumpkin patch, and for some reason, that amused James to no end.

"You'll be thankful when you're eating pumpkin bread." Sebastian shoved James's shoulder. "Not to mention my pumpkin soup."

They weeded the garden, and James didn't mind the work one bit. Sebastian cut flowers from the greenhouse to replace the ones in his kitchen and explained his yearly planting routine, showing obvious pride in his work. He wasn't just growing food so he had something to eat. He seemed to love the plants too.

Sebastian was bright-eyed, like he was excited to be sharing all the details of his garden with James, who was more than happy to soak it all up. He asked Sebastian countless questions, suddenly more interested in plants than he'd ever been before.

James was disappointed when the sun started to dip in the sky, taking its warmth with it. They'd have to go in before it got dark to avoid the shades, and knowing that, James was glad they hadn't spent the day haplessly looking for eighty-year-old papers.

Sebastian looked up and swiped hair out of his face, leaving a streak of dirt on his forehead. "What was that sound?"

James was about to ask what he was talking about when a distant voice cut across the soft bird chatter. "Must be someone out front."

They walked around the house. The gate was still locked—Sebastian pretty much never unlocked it unless he was expecting a delivery—and looking through the bars was Hazel.

"What the hell, James?" she called as they approached. "You just ditching work now?"

"I—" James had no idea what to say. He wanted to tell the truth, but it died on his lips.

"You look awful." Hazel's eyes went wide as she got a better look at him. "Is your nose broken?"

James gently prodded his bruised face. He'd forgotten he looked like shit. "I ran into a wall," he said, hoping to avoid repeating the story he'd told Parker.

"Come on, seriously?" Hazel crossed her arms and waited for James to explain himself. She knew he wasn't clumsy. When he didn't speak, she lost patience. "Why didn't you come to work. Or even call me?"

"I—remember I told you about Storm House." James tried to give her a significant look. "I'm just staying here with Sebastian for a while."

Hazel turned her glare on Sebastian. "Parker told me you two were having a sleepover, but I don't see what that has to do with you not going to work."

"A sleepover? Am I five?" James asked, indignant.

Hazel narrowed her eyes. "An adult sleepover, you know, the kind with orgasms. And while I'm happy you're giving your romantic life some attention for once, you need to keep it out of business hours. I had to get Eleanor to help me with the lights this morning. It wasn't until I tracked down Eli and Parker at lunch that I found out you might be here. I've been swamped all day and had no clue what was going on."

"Sorry." James tried to ignore the twisting in his gut. He knew Hazel had been worried about him, even if she chose to cover that with annoyance. He couldn't think of a way to communicate that he didn't want to skip work. Every explanation died before he could get it out. How had Sebastian gotten around the binding at all? James had no idea how to use his words to convey a double meaning.

"Don't be sorry." Hazel deflated, maybe picking up on some of James's internal struggle. "Just come help me with the last of the lights, and we'll forget about it."

James's heart sank. "I don't want to go into town."

Hazel gaped at him, renewed hurt lining her eyes. "Why not?"

James looked at Sebastian. "I need to stay here."

"Need to?" Hazel looked irate for a second, then paused. "Wait. Is this about the energy draining? Have you figured it out? Because you could have told me if you were staying here to work on that."

"No." The lie made James want to scream. "It's not about the energy draining. I just want to be with Sebastian. I like him, okay?" He clamped his mouth shut. The damn spell was a real pain in the ass. He didn't need it to reveal his private feelings on top of everything else. It was bad enough everyone thought he and Sebastian were sleeping together. He didn't need them knowing there were feelings involved, at least on his side.

"That's great that you like him, James." Hazel gazed at him with surprising softness. "But since when do you let that take over your whole life?"

"It's not," James shot back. "I never do what I want. Never take any risks, never date. Why are you making a big thing out of me finally going for it? I'm allowed to change, and if I want to be here with Sebastian, please respect that." Anger was clear in James's tone, but he wasn't mad at Hazel. He was furious at the binding spell for using kernels of truth in its lies.

Hazel's mouth tightened into a line as she turned to Sebastian. "What have you done? Tell him it's okay to go home."

Sebastian was the picture of innocence with wide, slightly confused eyes. "James can do what he wants."

"Of course he can, but this isn't how the James I know acts. Don't pretend any of this is his normal." Hazel pushed on the bars of the gate. "Open this damn thing. Why are you barring me out?"

Sebastian let Hazel in. She walked right up to James. "So you aren't coming back to town to help close up your shop for the day or going home to your brother tonight? The brother you were dying to have return to Moonlight Falls so you could spend more time with him."

James backed away. It was good she was suspicious. He just didn't know how to get Hazel to make the leap to thinking he was trapped and not in control of his own voice. He tried not to speak but couldn't control it. "Why can't I have some time to myself?" he snapped at his oldest friend.

"You can. Take a vacation. You deserve one. But don't act like having a busted face and suddenly refusing to leave this one"—she jabbed a finger toward Sebastian—"isn't cause for concern."

"What? Do you think Sebastian hurt me?" James was shocked.

"None of this is like you. I don't know what to think. If Eli shacked up with some guy, turned up all bruised, and refused to come home, tell me you wouldn't be freaking out."

Sebastian's cheeks reddened, his eyes narrowing to slits, but he didn't deny Hazel's accusation.

"I didn't shack up with—with anyone," James said weakly. "Sebastian didn't—I explained it to Parker. It was a game?—"

"Game?" Hazel cut him off. "If you've hurt him, Sebastian, goddammit, you are going to be sorry."

"He didn't." James tried to give Hazel the significant stare Sebastian had used on him, but he wasn't sure if he'd pulled it off. He wanted Hazel to know something wasn't right but not think Sebastian was abusive. He repeated the story he'd given Parker, saying more clearly this time that he liked things to get rough during sex, even though it wasn't true.

Hazel's brows pulled together as she studied James. "Okay. Not something I ever would have suspected about you, but to each their own." She crossed her arms. "So when are you coming back to work? Tomorrow? The next day? I'm not trying to manage your personal life. I just need you to communicate so I'm not worrying you're off dead somewhere."

"I'm not coming back to work," James said through gritted teeth. "Just leave me alone."

"I can't believe you." Hazel turned abruptly and stormed off to her van. "You're my best friend. You should be talking to me, not—whatever this is."

She got in her car and drove off. The sight of her rounding the nearest bend and disappearing made James's throat tighten.

"That was a good start," Sebastian said as if the exchange had been mildly interesting and nothing more.

James spun to face him.

Sebastian put up his hands in surrender. "Good that she suspects something isn't right, and after just one day. It's quicker than I thought. Then again, a dependable guy like you doesn't just ghost on his responsibilities. Excellent job telling her about the power draining beforehand. We need people on the outside trying to figure out why you won't come home. We need them wondering what's going on here."

It was all true, not that it stopped James from wanting to pull out his hair. "She's never going to guess the real reason I'm staying here."

"No." Sebastian pursed his lips. "But she'll be back. So will Eli. Next time, we need to get them in the house. Pull out The Magical Tales. Maybe put them on the entryway floor, trip over them even, or see if we can bring them outside without the spells stopping us. If you figured it out, they will too."

James wasn't so sure. His need to understand Sebastian, which was impacted by his growing attraction, had been critical to deciphering the books. It wasn't just having the volumes shoved under his nose.

Sebastian's hand closed around James's forearm. "Even if they don't figure out our tongues are bound, we still have a plan. And maybe if you're stuck here long enough, Parker will try and drag you away by force."

James frowned. "How will that help?"

"I imagine if someone tries to drag one of us over the property line, it won't work. We'd hit the wall and reveal that we're trapped behind an invisible barrier."

"I don't know if Parker would do that. He thinks I'm here voluntarily. He'll respect my decision to abandon my life, even if he disagrees." James suspected he'd lose all his friends if this went on long enough. They'd all write him off as a selfish asshole with the kind of convincing lies he was telling.

"Should we play into the you're-my-prisoner angle or imply you're getting sucked into an abusive relationship?" Sebastian asked, completely serious. "You can backpedal on the consensual rough play line easily enough. Then maybe they'll try and rescue you."

James's mouth fell open. "No. I don't want anyone to think you're an abuser. That's horrible."

Sebastian rolled his eyes. "They can think whatever the fuck they want about me. As long as we get out of here, I don't care. I'll do almost anything to get free, James. There's nothing I won't give up and very few lines I won't cross."