Spellbound - Cara Lynn Shultz [58]
I thought back to that first dream—which I had the night Brendan and I hung out, at the Met. When he’d given me his sweatshirt. When we clicked like we’d known each other for years. And when I dreamed I was bleeding from a stab wound to my heart. But I couldn’t face telling Angelique that just yet. Sure, I could tell her I thought I might be a reincarnated medieval maiden, and that lights exploded over my head and I heard my brother in my dreams. But could I tell her I was actually considering the theory that Brendan Salinger of all people was my soul’s destined mate? Now that was some crazy talk right there.
“I don’t remember,” I lied. She didn’t look convinced.
“This has to do with Brendan Salinger, doesn’t it?” Angelique asked, punctuating her question with another spin of her bangle. “And that’s why he just had to jump to your defense on Monday even though he barely knows you.”
I evaded her question. “But if Ethan’s trying to warn me, that means whatever tragedy is supposed to happen could be avoidable, right? If it was inevitable, what’s the point?”
Angelique took a deep breath. “It seems that way. I just wish we could zero in on why, after generations of cursed Emmas, you are the one who might be able to break the curse?”
“’Cause I’m due for some happiness?” I said hopefully. Angelique just snorted.
“I don’t know. There just seems to be a lot of supernatural stuff happening around you—the dreams, the warning signs. Hell, even meeting me and being able to find out about the curse. It’s like on the one side there’s the curse, and then there’s something else battling it.”
“I don’t know why,” I mumbled, picking the burnt eggplant slices off my pizza. “I’m just some girl.”
“If you were part witch it would make more sense,” Angelique mused. “Witches can’t really curse other witches, from what I know. The spells are never that effective.”
“But like I told you, I’m not really into all that stuff. I don’t even believe in ghosts!” I amended my statement. “Well, I didn’t used to believe in them. I don’t know what I believe anymore.”
Angelique paused. “Maybe you’re a born witch? I mean, yes, you have to study the craft to hone your skills, but you could also have inherited certain—how shall I put this?—special talents. Especially since with reincarnation, sometimes some traits can stick with the person in their next life. You could have gotten Gloriana’s mojo.”
“I doubt it,” I said, rolling my eyes. If I’d learned anything from my life, it was that I was hardly someone special.
“Oh, now you’re going to be cynical?” Angelique huffed. “Just ask your aunt.”
“I can’t just stroll up to her and ask, ‘Hey, Aunt Christine, I know I have my mother’s smile. Was she also secretly a witch and did I get that from her, too? Or can I blame my past life for my witch skills?’”
“Well, if you’re part witch, that could be why you have a shot at fighting this,” Angelique reasoned. “It would be a nice bit of ammo in our corner.” I realized that she said “our corner”—and felt bad for my cynicism. Angelique was in this with me.
“Have you ever known something before it was going to happen?” she asked. “That’s one of the biggest marks of being a natural witch. It usually manifests when you’re a little kid—all innocence, not jaded by the world.”
“If I did, I would have tried to use it on winning the lotto,” I joked lamely.
“It doesn’t work like that, Em. It could be something small, like knowing what someone’s going to say, or—”
“But even if I’m not, hey— There were pages missing in that book,” I interrupted, trying to change the subject away from my alleged witchy ways. “The last words in the Lord Archer legend said something about breaking the curse and it requiring a selfless soul or something.”
Angelique nodded. “If freedom from the curse is your goal, be warned, it takes a selfless soul.”
“Wow.” I was impressed. “Good memory.”
Angelique tapped her forehead and said, “Photographic memory, actually. It’s why my grades are so good.” I gave her a jealous look.
“But you’re right,” she