I laugh. “So much for us not knowing anything about our fathers.”
“It’s a natural curiosity.”
“Yeah.” I stare at her chandelier, all crystal and pearl, trying to focus as much as possible on this moment. “So I’m part Italian. That’s cool.”
“I’ll hang on, for you.” Nana’s hand goes limp in mine, and even though I know she fell asleep it feels like preparation for what’s to come.
THIRTY-SEVEN
When everyone is sleeping, I sneak down to the apothecary. The house threatens to betray me at each creak, but I manage to get there without waking anyone up. Sitting in Nana’s chair, it hits me—this could be my place soon unless I do something. Something possibly desperate. I shake it off, searching the drawers for the right ink and parchment. Grabbing a quill, I dip it in the enchanted purple liquid and write:
We need to talk.
I’m surprised how quickly a message appears underneath my messy line.
Is this who I think it is?
Under the magic willow tree.
That’s barely within our protective barriers. If Levi doesn’t intend to harm me, he’ll be able to get there like he got in last time. And more important, anyone at his house who might see this message won’t.
See you soon.
My heart pounds as I slide on a sweater and creep out the front door. Willow’s End is pitch-black at night, save a few lamps that mark street corners. I avoid the light, knowing this path by heart. I walk under my favorite willow, soaking in the faint magic as I do. Levi is already there, leaning on the thick trunk. He has his hands in his pockets, like it’s totally normal to be out in the middle of the night with shadows dancing all around him.
He smiles when he sees me. “How’s Gwen?”
“None of your business.” I stay a good distance back, the memories of that kiss begging me to run. If I get Cursed, it really is over.
His grin disappears. “I should have known you’d be afraid of me after that.”
“More like disgusted.”
“Was it that bad? Because at one point I could have sworn you were into it.”
My cheeks burn, not a single comeback on my tongue.
“If I were a regular guy . . .” He folds his arms, smug. “I have a feeling you’d like me.”
I shake my head. “You aren’t a regular guy, so what does it matter?”
He doesn’t have to say anything, because I can see it all over his face. There’s no denying he wants me, and not just my magic, though I’m sure that’s a big part of it. “Doesn’t seem like regular guys interest you, do they?”
My heart twists at the thought of Winn, so badly that I have to put my hand to my chest. “Look, I didn’t call you here to fight. I want answers, and I know you have them.”
“And why would I give them to you?”
“Because . . .” I search for something, but what incentive does he have? He doesn’t have to help me, and doing so would probably get him in big trouble long-term. But there is one thing. “I know you want him destroyed as much as I do, Levi Anderson. You want to avenge your mother’s death—you want to kill your own father.”
I kind of can’t blame him, but it’s still creepy.
His eyes go wide. “How . . . ?”
“You really thought I’d need you to find out? Jeff Anderson was my dad’s roommate in college, and a Shadow. You’re the spitting image of him.”
“Shit.” He kicks the ground.
“But I don’t understand it all, and I want to.” I take a few steps closer. “Please, Levi, tell me why he’d kill a Black, if they are the ones using you. Why would he go to such lengths to hunt the Hemlocks down and never stop?”
Levi’s face softens slightly. “My dad is the worst of our kind—a Shadow without a leash, a madman completely lost to the Consumption. My grandmother, who’s also Consumed, really likes him because he’s willing to do what a lot of us won’t. She and some of the other Blacks hate witching families that are more powerful than them.”
“Why do they think we’re so powerful? There are only two of us. The Blacks are a massive family in comparison to the Hemlocks.”
“Numbers don’t matter as much as you’d think. Having used Black magic and yours . . .” He bites his lip, seeming embarrassed. “Let’s just say you have more power in your little finger than any in-control Black witch. You’re like ten of them.”
“I thought the only difference in magic was location,” I whisper, the idea of me being so powerful hard to wrap my head around.
He shakes his head. “Different bloodlines hold different magical strengths. Of course, the Blacks are the only ones who know that, since they have Shadows to tell them. The Yarrows, Nightshades, and Hemlocks are the top of the hit list—since your magic is the best.”
It sounds so petty, and yet it somehow doesn’t surprise me. “So they’ve been trying to get rid of us because . . . they’re jealous?”
“Pretty much.”
I grit my teeth. Oh, Nana will be pissed when she hears about this. “But what about your mother? Why would he kill her, then?”
“Yeah, uh . . .” He scratches the back of his head. “She was protecting your mom.”
“What?”
He lets out a tired sigh. “My mom made it so I’m the only one who can read her history. She wrote a lot of stuff that probably would’ve gotten her killed even sooner. She was assigned as my dad’s steward—the witch who decides when a Shadow is ready to have magic. The first witch we Curse. Mom knew my dad was bad news from the second she met him. Like every steward and Shadow, they were ten years old when my grandmother assigned them to hunt the Hemlocks.”
I gasp, remembering Mom’s first memory of Stacia. They were probably about that age. Could that have been why Stacia was crying? Why she told my mom they shouldn’t be friends? “Their whole friendship was a lie.”
“No. It wasn’t.” Levi’s glare is defensive, and I realize I’m insulting his mother. “She didn’t think it was right—she wanted to protect Carmina. She did for a long time by refusing to give my father magic, even though it pissed off my grandmother. He was ravenous for power, and she knew he’d have no control once he had even the smallest taste.”
I venture closer to Levi, leaning on the tree with him. “He didn’t just take it?”
“It would have been hard. The first time . . .” He cringes. “We’re only born with enough magic to sustain us. If we use it up without having a steward, we’re screwed. He could have tried, but my mom would have overpowered him. And my mom spent most of her time traveling, so her mother couldn’t make her accept my dad through a spell.”
“So that’s why he didn’t look magical when my mom met him,” I say, though my thoughts are all on Winn. This explains way more than I’d like it to.
“Yup. By the time they were in San Francisco he was desperate and my grandmother was practically hunting my mom down. My father wanted to follow orders, but he was pretty much a normal person without his steward giving him magic. Grandma finally gave up on her daughter and told him to risk everything to Curse Carmina without my mom’s help. Since Carmina didn’t know what he was, he could have taken her off guard and used what little he had to do it.”
I wrap my arms around myself, pain surging through me. “So Stacia gave in, on the condition that he didn’t touch my mom.”
Levi nods, his eyes cold. “And like she guessed, he didn’t hold back in taking magic from her. She died because of his greed, but then he had enough to go after Carmina. Of course, my grandmother was happy to have her useless daughter out of the picture. It would have ended like this, either way, with both of them dead.”