When and if Tom finally broke his family’s curse, he would turn it back upon the townspeople who had stood by to watch his family’s ruination. He would open up doors that had been closed for centuries; he’d paint all the mirrors black and burn down the library with its foolish collection of Grimoires, women’s magic, green magic, earth magic, red magic. Devotion Field would disappear in a blaze, children would be lost in the fens, people would take to their beds, unable to be cured of an illness that rained down upon them. Let them be cursed, he thought. Let them know what it’s like.
“Whatever you can teach me, I want to learn,” Kylie told him. She had a sweet, innocent voice that affected Tom in a way he wouldn’t have expected. He almost felt his heart go out to her, but he stopped the sudden haze of compassion, easy to do when you’ve had enough practice. By now, Kylie had finished the tea. She had the urge to tell all, to confide in someone who would understand her.
“Place your hands flat on the table,” Tom suggested. He did the same. When their knees touched they both felt a jolt. “Let it rise up,” Tom said in a quiet tone that almost sounded hopeful.
The table shuddered and rose off the floor, floating between them. Kylie gasped; without thinking, she lifted her hands and when she did the table fell with a clatter. Tom smiled broadly, sweat on his brow. This girl not only had power, she released something in him as well.
“We did that,” he said proudly.
Kylie’s cheeks flushed. She could feel her blood turn hot. “I’m willing to do anything to break the curse.”
Tom Lockland considered her. “Are you sure?” These days you didn’t want to take advantage of anyone. You had to convince them they wanted what you wanted.
When Kylie nodded, Tom seized a knife from the table and quickly slashed his arm. He grinned and handed it over. Being with this girl would give him the power he needed and had always lacked. The knife was cold in her hand but when Kylie cut herself she was burning. Her breathing quickened, as drops of black blood fell to the floor, burning as magic ran through her.
“Who were your ancestors?” he asked.
“Maria Owens,” Kylie answered. “She was raised by a woman named Hannah who was tried as a witch. It happened here in Thornfield. There was another woman named Rebecca involved with the family. I think we may both be related to her.”
Tom realized who she was. The seven-times great-granddaughter of a witch who had been married to his six-times great-grandfather. They were, indeed, distant cousins, for long ago Rebecca had given birth to both his ancestor and hers, born two years apart. Lockland’s sixth great-grandfather had been removed from a woman considered to be wicked, while Kylie’s ancestor, Maria Owens, had been born in a snowy field, then given over to a woman who raised her with kindness and dedication and magic.
This is what Tom had been waiting for. A conduit to magic, a witch in his control.
“We can break the curse,” he promised this cousin of his. “But only if you trust me.”
* * *
Tom brought Kylie to the local pub at the only inn in the village, the Three Hedges, established more than four hundred years earlier. He had little to offer in his own kitchen, having been living on cheese, toast, and beer, and Kylie hadn’t had a decent meal since she’d left Boston, only the snack the librarian had offered her in London. They had a fifteen-minute walk through the falling darkness. There was a green smell in the air, a mixture of clover and grass, and the air was cooler under the gleaming sky. When Kylie stumbled over the pavement, Tom took her hand, looping his fingers through hers. “Steady,” he said. “You don’t want to come all this way and break a leg.”
Kylie laughed, but she didn’t pull away. He was what she needed, a partner in magic. They had made the table rise and she wondered what else they could do. She had felt so vulnerable ever since Gideon’s injury, it was a relief to have someone to help her sort everything out and, truthfully, the weight of Tom’s hand was a comfort.