“Who are you killing this time, dear?” Violetta asked, sticking her head out from the end of the stacks nearest the kitchen.
“Trevor and Marie,” she grumbled, gesturing at the books that should never have been put on a surface people ate and drank at.
“Before you go about finding them and killing them, do you mind turning that kettle off and making a cup of tea?”
“Fine.”
“I’ll be right out. I just need to find one more thing.” Violetta disappeared back into the stacks again.
Jules picked up Bastien, gave him a quick cuddle then made a pot, letting it steep as she got out Violetta’s favourite bone-China teacup and a mug for herself. She quickly poured herself a tea, added two sugars and a good dollop of milk before her grandmama could see and give her the ‘tea lecture’.
Turning back to the table, she eyed the books on the edge of it warily. Inched closer. She didn’t feel any magic coming from them.
“That doesn’t mean anything. Be careful.”
Her internal voice was right. Some magic was tricky, especially dark magic.
“You shouldn’t have unpacked them without me,” Violetta said as she came out of the stacks. Her immaculate grey bob swung beside her still-lovely heart-shaped face, her dark brows furrowed as she joined Jules at the table. “Even though Tomaso said there were no magical texts, you know I like to check. I don’t want you being hurt like last time.”
“I didn’t unpack them. Trevor or Marie must have done it last night before they left.”
“It can’t have been them,” Violetta said, pouring herself a cup of tea. “The shipment didn’t arrive until well after we’d all finished for the day.” She tipped her head in that considering way of hers and moved closer to the stack of books and manuscripts, her long violet skirt swaying gently around her legs, the pearls and crystals around her neck making a little clacking sound as she walked.
“Your mother moved like that. Like a dancer.”
“Did she? I can’t remember that.”
“Did you say something, dear?”
“Nope.” She sipped her tea as her grandmama gave her the gimlet stare that made people tremble in their boots.
She looked down at her feet.
“You’re wearing sneakers, not boots, so you’re obviously safe.”
“Thanks.” She looked back up at her grandmama.
Violetta, eyebrow raised in a perfect arch, returned her attention to the books. “Who could have put these here? I didn’t do it, did I, Bastien?” He shook his head. “I didn’t think so, but it’s good to be sure. You know how distracted I can get when doing my research. I wouldn’t put it past myself to start unpacking the boxes without realising it.” She tapped her chin in thought then said, “Why are you rubbing your hip like that?”
She stopped rubbing as Violetta frowned at her. “I didn’t see the boxes and fell over one.”
“Then why did you say you were fine? Honestly, Julianna, it doesn’t do anyone any good when you lie about getting hurt. Do I need to call Doctor Pilar?”
“No! I’m fine.” The last thing she needed was Doctor Pilar coming over and seeing the cuts and scratches all over her torso. He’d tell Violetta and then she’d get The Lecture. Although, she would definitely get The Lecture when she told Violetta about what had happened last night. Despite knowing last night she needed her grandmama to fix things for her, she wished she didn’t have to tell her about the embarrassing event – it was bad enough Bastien knew – but if she didn’t want it getting around that she had no magic ...
“It’s lucky your grandmama is excellent at forgetting spells. Hopefully she’ll wind a little something extra into Simon’s that will make him cower every time he so much as sees tomato or basil again.”
“I don’t want her to punish him.”
“It’s no less than he deserves.”
“You don’t mean that.”
“Of course I do.”
An image of Simon cowering before a stand of tomatoes at the supermarket spun into her mind, but no matter how gratifying it would be to see it, she couldn’t allow it. What had happened wasn’t truly his fault. It was hers. She’d been too desperate to find love. She had to face facts – it just wasn’t going to happen for her. She had her grandmama, Bastien, and her work. That would have to be enough.
She met Violetta’s gaze and told her what had happened.
“Julianna! You should have told me the instant it happened. Not only should Dr Pilar have been called last night, who knows how many people Simon has told by now!”
“Well, you were out. And I doubt he’s told anyone apart from his mother. The clean-up was extensive. Besides, I think he was hoping to blackmail you with the knowledge, so that wouldn’t work if he told people.”
“Julianna, that’s not the point.”
“It’s exactly the point.”
Violetta glared at her. “Well, I’m calling Dr Pilar just to check you out.”
“Please don’t. Bastien helped fix me up last night—”
“Bastien knew!” she said, glaring at the black cat winding around Jules’ feet.
“I said I’d tell you this morning. And I have. You can now go and wipe Simon’s memory – his mother’s too if needed – but please don’t do anything else. It was my stupidity that caused the problem. So please promise you won’t do more than wipe the event from his memory.” She stared down her grandmama’s gimlet glare.
“Very well,” Violetta said after a long, tense moment. “I will figure out the best spell and take care of it this afternoon.”
“Thank you.”
Violetta reached a comforting hand out but pulled back before she could make contact. “Are you certain you’re okay?”
“Yes. Please don’t worry.” She tried a smile, but it came out a bit wobbly, so she turned her attention to the books on the table. “All I want to do is get stuck into these. They look fascinating.” She took a step closer to the end of the table the books were stacked on, tripped over the edge of a rug and lost her grip on her tea mug. It soared out of her hand, the tea flying out of the mug right towards the stack of old manuscripts, journals and grimoires. “No!” she cried as she hit the edge of the table.
“Watch out!”
Jules knew the cry wasn’t for the books. She threw herself sideways, landing hard on the floor on the other side of the table as Violetta thrust her hands out, a small amount of power sparking around her. Jules pushed up and crawled around the kitchen island, trying to get further away from the magic that, even though minimal, was a thousand needles pricking her skin. Her stomach heaved.
She grasped for the bin just in time, vomiting up all her breakfast.
“Julianna, I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” Violetta stood above her, hands half stretched towards her.
“Yes. Yes. Don’t worry about me. See, not even bleeding.” She held out her arms. “I’m fine.” She wiped her mouth. “What about the books?”
Violetta’s mouth worked for a moment before she gave a little nod – thank the Goddess she wasn’t about to carry on apologising about using magic around Jules. “I saved them.” Violetta pointed across the room.
Jules pulled herself up and leaned, trembling, against the centre bench. Tea was splattered across the table, dripping off the edges, but thankfully the pile of old and fragile grimoires, journals and books had been transported across the room and sat in two piles on Jules’ desk in the far corner of the room. “Thank the Goddess. I thought I’d ruined them. You see, that’s why you never put books on the kitchen table! Especially with klutzes like me around.”
“Are you sure you’re okay, dear?”
“Your transportation spell was minimal, so I’m fine. Stop fussing.” She waved her hand and moved out from behind the centre bench, almost tripping over the rug just beyond it. Before Violetta could say anything, she said, “I just need to clean up here and then get back to work. I gather since you put those on my desk, there’s no magic in them.”
“I don’t feel anything – which matches with Tomaso’s assurances. You’ll be safe from them at least.”
“Grandmama.”
Violetta’s nostrils flared as she turned away and gestured to the boxes at the base of the stairs. “I didn’t realise Tomaso was sending so many,” she said airily. “They’ll keep you busy for a while.
“I can’t wait,” she said, meaning it more than she’d ever meant it before. She needed to be distracted from the disaster that was her love life. And about the looming loneliness of another Valentine’s Day spent without a lover. Pushing the depressing thought aside, she began to clean up the mess she’d made.
As Violetta began to help her clean up, she was mindful that the older witch watched her every movement. It took a bit of effort, but Jules hid the twinges of pain pinging all over her body – she really didn’t want her grandmama to feel guilty over hurting her. Finally, with a suppressed sigh, she gave the table a final wipe, rinsed the cloth then headed to her desk.
“Well, I’ll leave you to it then. I’ve got a few things I want to finish here before I go and deal with Simon and his mother.”
Her tone was so ominous, Jules felt compelled to say, “Grandmama, you promised.”
Violetta sighed. “I know.” She picked up her tea and walked back towards the stacks, her purple skirt swishing around her knees, crystals and beads clicking and clacking in an almost hypnotic rhythm as she went.
Bastien jumped up onto the desk and rubbed against Jules, meowing at her. Giving him a long stroke from head to tail, she turned to the books on her desk. “So, Grandmama is doing her work, how about I get stuck into mine?” Bastien meowed at her in response. She really wished she could mind-speak with him like other witches could with their Familiars – but she was not a normal witch, nor was he a normal Familiar – but it seemed to be an enthusiastic meow. “Which one should I start with?” He patted the oldest-looking journal on top of the pile to the left. “Good pick.” It was the one she was most drawn to – its age calling to her along with the ancient Roman letters scrawled on the front.
“My Life of Magic in the Service of Vesta by Esta Stevius of the Vestal Virgin Coven,” she translated.
Vestal Virgins! Oh Goddess!
A frisson of excitement chased over her skin. Shivering a little, she pulled on her cotton gloves before taking the journal to place it gently on the cradle in front of her.
“Now, what secrets do you have to tell me?” she whispered as she opened the leather-bound parchment.
Bastien, rather than sit in her lap as he usually did, perched on the desk, his gaze on the journal as if he meant to read along with her. She stroked her hand over his back as she started to read, but after a few pages, forgot all about him, lost in the unfolding story before her.
Images formed in her mind as she read, so real it was almost like she’d been there and seen it herself.
“You have.”
“What?” Her heart thumped hard and fast in her chest.
“Read on.”
“Okay.”
Jules turned the page carefully, the cotton gloves startlingly white against the yellowing pages of parchment.
Her breathing came in little gasps as her eyes scanned the words, her brain doing an automatic translation.
Her nightmares. Her dreams. They were all here. On the pages of this ancient journal. How could that be?
She turned another page, her lips moving now as she whispered the words before she’d even translated them in her mind. She knew. She knew this. She’d heard it before over and over in her nightmares. She’d never remembered it until now, but she knew it was true.
The horror as Lianna Stevius, Vesta’s chosen vessel for the powers she wished to give to humanity, was torn from her lover, from her child, cursed and buried alive.
She didn’t need to read the words to know that was what had happened – she’d woken screaming from the horror nearly every night of her life, the memory of dirt raining down, choking her, darkness smothering her, gasping for breath until … until there were no more breaths. Though she’d never truly remembered those dreams, upon awakening, just the way they made her feel, she remembered them all now.
And even though she knew where the story led, she couldn’t stop herself from reading the words Esta Stevius had written 2,000 years ago about the punishment that turned the servant into a cat who’d been so kind to her and Lianna.
His name had been Bastieno.
Bastien.
Oh Goddess. Was this why he was cursed? Because he’d helped a Vestal Virgin be with her lover?
A Vestal Virgin whose memories had played in her dreams and nightmares all her life.
That could only mean … “No,” she breathed, unable to believe it.
“Believe it. It’s true.”
“Lianna?”
“Yes.”
She winced as pain spiked through her eye. But she couldn’t stop herself from reading because she couldn’t believe what was in front of her eyes.
The curse. Esta had written it down. She read it, lips moving over the words. Her skin prickled and hairs rose all over her body, but she couldn’t seem to stop.
Bastien howled and struck out at her hand as she went to turn the page, then leaped at her as she rocked back in shock, his movement enough to make her chair roll back from her desk to smack into the wall a metre behind her.
“Julianna!” Her grandmama’s voice, a panicked cry, rang out from deep in the stacks. The sound of running echoed hollowly, coming closer until Violetta burst out of the end of the stacks in the middle of the room, eyes wide, face filled with fear as she raced over to Jules. “Julianna. I felt magic. You’re bleeding.”
Jules looked down at her hand where a line of blood welled across the back of her hand. “Bastien swiped at me. He stopped me from reading the curse in that journal.” She gestured at it, her mind swirling with images from her nightmares and dreams.
“Memories. Not dreams.”
Violetta gasped. “Oh, my Goddess. Where did you get this?” She snatched up the journal. “Did you read this?”
Jules nodded slowly, still so shocked that she wasn’t bothered by the fact Violetta had picked up the ancient journal without gloves on. “I don’t understand. It’s the dream. The nightmare. The one that’s tormented me ever since I can remember. It’s written in there. How can that be?”
Violetta’s large name-sake eyes slowly rose to focus on her. “I was right. You are cursed, my dear.”
“What? How does she know that?”
Violetta’s words – and those of her internal voice – snapped her out of her stupor. “Don’t be ridiculous. How can I be cursed? Who would bother to curse me?”
Violetta tapped the journal. “It’s in here. I’ve only ever remembered the latter parts of my life as Esta – my most recent reincarnations are far clearer – but now, seeing this, I remember more. I know who you are.”
Bastien made a sound of surprise, his head snapping up to stare at Violetta as if seeing her for the first time.
“He recognises her.”
“Oh Goddess. Oh Goddess. It’s true.”
“I knew your soul was old. I just didn’t realise how old. But this explains so much. I always wondered why you couldn’t remember at least part of who you’d been – it’s highly unusual for a reincarnated witch or warlock not to remember at least some of their past lives.”
“No.” Jules pushed up from the desk, took a step back. “I’m not an old soul. I don’t carry that kind of power.”
“Yes. You do. And you are. You were Lianna Stevius. And Bastien was …”
“The servant who helped the demi-god and Lianna be together.”
Violetta frowned at her for a moment but then said, “Yes. I remember now. It’s why he’s always been bound to our family like he has. Why his curse has lasted this long. But now you’ve found this, now you remember – we can free you both.”
“How?”
“Go to Rome. Unbind the curse.”
“What? How? I can’t go to Rome.”
“But you must.” She tapped the journal. “You know how curses work. We don’t have the original witch who cast it. But we do have the words and three souls who were there – and now you remember, we can find where it was cast and undo the evil that was done so long ago.”
“But don’t we have to do it on an anniversary?”
“Yes.”
“But when is that?”
“It’s all in here. You just read it.”
“Not that bit!”
Violetta flipped open the journal and pointed at the date written on the page at the start of the section Jules had just read. “If I know my ancient Roman calendars right – and I do – the anniversary is on the thirteenth of February.”
“Valentine’s Day Eve? But today’s the second. That means we’ve not even got two weeks!”
“Then you better hurry up and pack. I’ll book your flights to Rome. Bastien and I will go via portal and meet you there. Come on, hurry up. We don’t have time to waste.”