Chapter Twenty-Three

YAEL PAUSED WITH one foot in the room, staring with wide eyes at Storm, who was huddled on the bed, hugging his knees. “What in the Mother happened to you?” they asked, rushing across the room to perch on the bed and place a hand against his forehead.

Storm shook his head, but the words wouldn’t come. He’d been sitting here for an hour and still couldn’t move. “I—” He shook his head, unable to find the right words. So much ran through his mind: fears and doubts, pain he didn’t know what to do with. He had to let the pain out but thought about his dad standing in the woods, screaming out his rage and letting his magic run free because he couldn’t suffer in silence.

As he opened his mouth to make another attempt, a cry emanated from across the hall and he flinched.

Yael patted his hand. “Rowan returned with his father some time ago. We left you to rest and put his father to bed with something to help him sleep. I assume the tonic failed.” Cradling Storm’s chin in strong fingers, they cocked their head. “Rowan left to shop for dinner. Will you be all right if I tend to his father?”

The thought of Yael willingly checking on Cesa was enough to snap him out of the shock. Instinct made him shake his head and slip his feet off the bed. “No. I’ll go,” he said, not sure where the words came from other than a feeling that he had to try this even if he failed. “I’m okay. In shock, I guess. I…” He waved in the general direction of the book still sitting on the windowsill but didn’t have the words to explain.

Either Yael understood or didn’t care to press the issue. They allowed Storm to get to the bedroom door and followed him to Cesa’s bedroom. Storm walked in, sure Cesa would be too traumatised by his nightmare to care that Storm was in his house.

The man was still locked in his nightmare when Storm entered the room. The sheets twisted around his body, and Cesa was sweating profusely. Cries and sounds of pain emanated from Cesa’s tightly pressed lips, sounds that were unnatural for a strong, powerful white witch such as Cesa should have been. What Ithen had done was so dark and twisted that Storm didn’t know if he could be saved, but he’d promised his dad he would try.

Storm stepped into the room and crossed to the bed, where Cesa was beginning to murmur in his sleep. Keeping his voice low, he used the one tool he had to his advantage—his voice. The one lesson he’d learned from stepping into his dad’s past was that he sounded like Asher had when he was younger. Asher’s voice had deepened after his ascension, but now Storm sounded like a young Asher Tera, the one Cesa Copry was innocently in love with when they were nothing but two teenagers who could never be together but could never stop loving each other.

Yael hovered between the bed and the door, likely prepared to rush in if Cesa lashed out, but Storm didn’t think he could.

“Do you remember when we first kissed?” he asked in a whisper, hating the way his voice cracked.

Almost instantly, Cesa stilled and rolled to his side, to rub his cheek against the pillow. “I told you I loved you,” he answered, likely wrapped in the comforting dream of a memory that had only hurt him. The way he smiled as he continued to relive the past gave Storm the confidence to keep going. Cesa and Asher had replayed this conversation too many times to fail. “I gave you the book my father found at the auction because it was about the dark arts, and I had no use for it.”

Fighting tears, Storm brushed aside the sweat-soaked hair from Cesa’s face. “I told you no one had ever given me anything as precious. That I’d always cherish this book because it came from my best friend.”

“And I told you I didn’t want to be your best friend.”

He was following the script so well, Storm wondered what he was dreaming of. Was he in the woods, reliving the good bits before his world fell to pieces, or was he living out the first time they’d ever said this, in some memory, time and place Storm had never seen?

“I knew, didn’t I?” he whispered, studying Cesa Copry for the first time in his life. He looked so like Rowan. His son was the younger, carefree version of Cesa that Storm had seen in the book’s memories, but this older man retained a naturally handsome quality which must have drawn his dad in. If he hadn’t been locked in insanity for years, hadn’t stopped caring about his appearance, he could have easily stepped from a Caravaggio painting.

He was nearing forty but was still beautiful in a different way than Storm had ever thought to consider. Cesa’s heart was pure and he resisted Ithen’s curse every day, as best he could. He was still caring and loving toward his son, despite Ithen’s influence, and clearly held onto his love for Asher. No matter what he did, Ithen could never steal the pure love they’d shared.

A tear escaped out the corner of his eye as Cesa whispered, “He knew I loved him.”

The clarity broke Storm’s heart. He had no choice but to grasp the hand clutching tight to the bed sheet and curl his fingers around the weak grip Cesa offered. He waited patiently as Cesa’s breathing slowly eased into a deep sleep. Storm gave his hand one gentle squeeze and let go. He would sleep now, completely unaware he’d broken a piece of Storm’s heart that would never recover.

Rising from the bed, he left the room to find Yael standing by the door, their arms crossed over their chest with a knowing look in their white eyes. “I believe I know why you were in such a state,” they remarked, opening the bedroom door for Storm and following as he returned to Rowan’s room. “Your father allowed you access to his heart?”

“The book,” Storm admitted, seeing no reason to keep the secret. He walked to the window seat and lifted the book.

Yael raised their right hand to hover over the closed cover, tentatively tracing a fingertip over the engraved title. “Be careful of this spell, youngling. You may see what you are not meant to see,” they warned, without the anger he’d expected or a sign they would stop him from using the spell. A serious, silent warning in their eyes made Storm want to step back. “At other times, you could see what you should not.”

A day ago, he’d have argued that no harm could come from the past. Tonight, he nodded and took the book to the bed, intending to get comfortable, then take one last trip.

“Will you stay with me? I want to see more. Just until Rowan comes back. I’m hoping there’s something that will tell me where to find the amulet’s spell,” he said, feeling like the book wanted to show him something else. Or perhaps his dad wanted to show him something. Either way, he’d been sure he would be taken somewhere new by the memories when he chose to leave, and he needed to follow the instinct, no matter what he might see.

“If you wish. The decision must always be yours,” Yael replied, a soft smile warming their face as they crossed to the window seat and curled up on the far side where they could keep an eye on him.

Storm nodded his thanks, lay against the pillows and placed his hand on the book cover to allow his magic to return him to where he’d been, reassured the spell would work on the same object until he performed the counter spell. Whenever he touched this book and focused his magic on his goal, he would return to his dad’s memories. But, he figured Yael was right; this should be his last visit to the past, before he saw something he couldn’t unsee.

Storm was surprised to return to exactly where he’d been before his sadness pulled him from the memories. As he’d suspected, there was something else he was meant to see on this night, something he was meant to understand.

His grandfather still sat in the armchair where Asher had left him, a faint shake of his head suggesting he was considering what he’d heard about Asher’s feelings for Cesa and Veronica’s lost love.

Leaving the study, Storm didn’t walk into the hallway as he was supposed to but straight into the library, where his dad had just entered the room. Cesa was pacing in front of the fireplace.

The moment Cesa saw him, he visibly deflated and paused his pacing. “Asher!” he exclaimed, relief colouring his voice.

Asher’s step faltered as though the sound hit him with a physical force. “What are you doing here?” he asked, rushing toward Cesa in panic. The moment Asher touched his shoulders to offer comfort, he recoiled and shook his head. “Gods, you’re soaked!”

Storm saw the indecision of whether Asher should stay or rush to get a towel. The question disappeared before his eyes as Cesa began to cry.

“They want an heir!”

Asher’s hands fell, dropping to his side as a heart-pounding silence descended upon the room. “What?” Disbelief, fear and something close to panic laced his voice with enough emotion to let Storm know this had never been expected.

Cesa grasped desperately at Asher’s arms. “They’re telling Rosa if she doesn’t supply an heir soon, they’ll force her to go through IVF,” he explained, the wide-eyed fear touching something inside Storm.

He hadn’t realised how privileged he’d been to have parents who would never demand these violations. The realisation that Cesa’s family were old-fashioned to a criminal degree was both disgusting and terrifying. Thank the gods that Cesa retained enough sanity that Rowan hadn’t been forced to live with them since Ithen’s curse took hold. Storm couldn’t imagine how he would have survived.

“But…that’s barbaric,” Asher objected, opening his mouth to say more, but no words escaped; no doubts, no arguments, not a single promise that they’d be okay because they wouldn’t. Words wouldn’t help; nothing would.

“They’re relentless. What will I do?” Cesa pleaded, falling against Asher’s chest and clutching onto him so hard his knuckles grew white, and Storm was sure nothing would make him let go. “We’ve never…what I mean is, Rosa accepts our marriage. She knows that I could never… We were honest from the start, but this is unbearable.” He confessed in stops and starts, gasps and heavy breathing. Every breath spoke of how near the edge to a full-blown panic attack he truly was.

With a hand on Cesa’s head, Asher’s eyes turned dark in proof he was tempted to use his magic. “Breathe for me, my love.”

Cesa raised his head and gazed so openly with such vulnerability that Storm wasn’t surprised when Asher kissed him. If Rowan had been in such pain, he would have done the same. A kiss didn’t help or make the problem easier to bear, but the gentle act could remind Cesa that he didn’t have to be alone with this burden.

When Cesa broke the kiss to hide his face in Asher’s shoulder, Storm could almost see the cogs turning as his dad put together a plan. “We’ll figure this out, I promise. Ronnie and I won’t let you be put through this. Neither of you deserve this. This is unacceptable, and I’ll make sure the other covens step in,” he promised, saying the right words, even though they didn’t solve the problem.

Watching them cling to each other, knowing what they faced, Storm couldn’t see a solution. They had eventually come upon the idea of, and succeeded in, using demon magic to create Rowan, but Storm would likely never know what that choice cost them.

Asher pried Cesa away, helped him into an armchair by the fire and poured him a glass of whiskey. He crossed to the bookcase on the far side of the room, where he plucked a black tome from the bottom shelf. “I’m a dark mage. I can fix this. We will fix this.”

The waver in his voice told Storm that even Asher wasn’t sure of the promises he’d made or his ability to keep his word. A moment after he began flicking through the pages, Cesa rose from the armchair and crossed to his side. With a first tentative touch, he eased against Asher’s back, leaning against him, holding him and taking comfort from Asher’s strength.

“I can’t do this without you.”

Asher stopped flicking through the pages, tipped his head back to rest against Cesa’s and closed his eyes. He seemed to cherish and hate the words, probably relieved to know he could be a saviour when Cesa needed one but guilty that his love for Cesa was a betrayal of his marriage vows. The conflict within him revealed itself in a single tear at the corner of his eye, proof of the two paths his heart pulled him in and the brutal fact that kept him frozen: he could never follow both roads.

*

STORM HAD NEVER believed a crisis could pull people together, but he watched his parents rally to help Cesa and Rosa.

The images and memories flashed by, threatening to leave Storm disorientated as the four friends formed a plan. Love bound them together when Rowan was delivered, a human baby with DNA from a demon and Cesa, creating an official heir to the Copry legacy. Rosa and Cesa grew closer as they raise him, and a new friendship formed a year later when Storm was born, and Rowan showed an instant fascination. Storm was embarrassed to see himself as a baby and a toddler, how a sneeze could cause a gale through the room or that the rain pelted down when he cried during the night. Cesa would laugh when Rowan would take Storm’s hand or cuddle him to calm the panic and sadness but showed no sign of wanting to separate them as children.

All four parents shone with happiness as their children played and grew up together, forming a family that should have been at odds with itself but never was. Asher and Cesa didn’t display their love often, and if they ever surrendered, during moments of pain or when the world grew too hard to cope with, Storm never witnessed those memories. Storm’s parents grew visibly more in love as the years passed, their friendship as strong as their love. Then Rosa got sick when Rowan was three years old, wasting away before their eyes for a full year. Her death broke something in Cesa that not even Asher could fix.

Storm watched in horror as the man descended from grief to despair. Arriving at the Tera home in the dead of night, Cesa was clearly drunk as he begged Asher to help him. The look in Veronica’s eyes when she let Cesa into the house and left him with Asher was heartbreaking. She must have known they would share something close to intimacy but never stepped in to set boundaries or tell Asher to choose between them. Storm had never realised just how strong his mum was. She’d harboured her lost love in her heart, knowing she would never see him again, yet she wouldn’t deny Asher and Cesa their love.

He could tell, even at this distance and having not known either of his parents well, that Veronica wouldn’t have denied them anything. Asher and Cesa could have had an affair, become lovers, and she would never have stopped them, but neither made her suffer the betrayal and deception. What rare kisses they shared were given in comfort, to soothe, to remember the past and that their feelings for each other would never fade. Storm never saw them succumb to lust; what they shared was deeper than the physical, more tender and sacred.

The memories grew sadder, though Storm wasn’t sure if that was because of his feelings or because no more happy days remained for Asher and Cesa. They were happy with their families for a time, Cesa lighting up whenever he was with Rowan, but loneliness enveloped them, and a distance grew that meant their stolen kisses and the times they held each other grew less.

Until Cesa stopped visiting.

The memories slowed as Cesa stood in Asher’s study for the first time in months, both men standing so far apart Storm knew this wouldn’t be like the other visits. There was too much between them now, too much space and time, ghosts and secrets.

“As much as I love Rowan, I was wrong,” Cesa said, turning away from the window that showed Rowan and Storm playing in the front garden.

Asher’s eyes welled but he remained at his desk, not moving from where he sat, staring at the bookcase across the room and showing no sign of having heard the words, bar those unshed tears.

“I wish I’d fought harder for us.”

Closing his eyes so tight the tear escaped, to trail his cheek in proof of his pain, Asher nodded. “I know.” He didn’t open his eyes until Cesa left the room, shut the door behind him, and told Rowan they were going home.

Storm knew just as surely as his dad did that Cesa was never coming back.

The disappointment of knowing everything had changed for both men and they’d never found their way back to each other was enough to convince Storm he’d seen enough. The memories didn’t feel like they were pulling him in a specific direction, so he let go of the magic and returned to where he lay on the bed in Rowan’s bedroom.

Blinking to clear his misty vision, Storm pushed the book to the other side of the mattress. He doubted his dad had wanted him to see those memories, but the book didn’t seem to remember being given to Asher, being found by Cesa or anything about their first six months together. The book only held the strongest emotions: the life-changing events of their relationship.

Storm wished he could speak to his dad about what he’d seen or find out what his mum had thought. He was sure she’d never loved his dad as much as she’d loved her first love, the same way she didn’t expect Asher to love her the way he loved Cesa. They’d found happiness together anyway, and that was amazing.

Now he knew what haunted Cesa’s nightmares; the doubts, the fears and the mistakes he’d made in the past. He was probably reliving or second-guessing his choices, wishing life had been different.

How often did he wake from a dream of the past or a nightmare of what they’d gone through, wondering if Asher would still be alive if he’d fought for them or if they’d run away together? How many times did he question whether he should have ever loved Asher, if he’d never lost his heart to a Tera or if he’d never obeyed his parents and married Rosa? What might the future have held for them, if they’d held onto each other and defied the Fates?

Storm sat there and composed his thoughts, unable to prevent the tears from welling. So much would have been different if his dad had been given the same chance he had—to be with the man he loved.

Pushing strands of hair from his forehead, he leaned an elbow on his raised knee and gazed out the window to find something to distract his mind. He found Rowan sitting on the window seat, headphones on and phone in his hand.

Despite the tears, he smiled. Rowan was practically glowing in the sunlight streaming in the window, his hair mussed. He looked ready for a lazy afternoon, dressed in joggers and a too-large T-shirt that still managed to look good on him.

Storm grabbed the pillow from behind him and tossed it at Rowan to capture his attention. With a smile that lit up the room, Rowan removed his headphones, put his phone on the window seat and stood to cross to the bed. Sitting by Storm’s knee, Rowan lay a hand on his ankle, offering a consoling touch he hadn’t realised he needed, one that released the horde of tears he’d been keeping at bay.

With the bare warning of a wobble of his chin, Storm descended into tears and sank forward to hide his face in Rowan’s neck. He hadn’t intended to fall apart, but that touch found the button to unleash his emotions.

Strong arms encased him, fingers drifting into his hair as Rowan shushed him. With stuttering breath and stumbling words, Storm explained what had happened, that he’d tried the spell his dad had told him about, and he’d seen so much of his relationship with Cesa. Everything he’d discovered about their families hurt.

Hugging Rowan tight—because he was his boyfriend—Storm took a steadying breath. With a growing sense of guilt, he lifted his head, wiped his eyes and stared into Rowan’s open, accepting blue eyes. “I hate myself for being glad they didn’t get to be with each other.”

“What?” Rowan frowned in a soft way that said he didn’t understand but wasn’t jumping to conclusions. He fixed Storm’s hair as though it could help, and damn him for being right, because those fingers in his hair did something to make the world right again.

“If they had each other, I wouldn’t have you.” He was ashamed to admit that he didn’t know if he loved Rowan or not, but he thought he might. He suspected the feelings might have been there all this time, buried under Gladys’s spell that made him forget an entire childhood they’d spent together, becoming closer to each other than he’d ever been with anyone else. Closer than his older self, from the future, had ever allowed him to be with anyone.

No wonder he’d been bitter and hated magic, by the time the war was lost. That Storm had never been loved or cherished the way that only his parents and Rowan had cared for him.

The realisation sent a lead weight to Storm’s stomach as the reality of what faced them hit home. As long as he loved Rowan—and the magic wasn’t clear enough to differentiate between romantic and familial love—it was already too late. No matter what he did, Storm would never resurrect Rowan, even if all that existed between them was a childhood love. If the worst happened, he’d have to do what Cesa had done—stand by and watch the man he loved die and spend the rest of his life grieving for a love that was never given the chance to bloom.

Rowan cupped his cheek, focusing his thoughts. “I know,” he said, with acceptance for the horrible words he’d said.

The words made him cry harder, because they were the last words Asher had said to Cesa as they ended their relationship. He couldn’t bear to hear them from Rowan with his emotions on the surface, raw and lost inside his head. He didn’t want to hear those two words again because they would forever mean goodbye.