Divide (17 page)

Donovan’s gaze travelled over me, then he brought his attention back to Mick, and his smile disappeared as he swallowed. “Go give your head a wobble, brother. Your plan’s not going to work.”

Holland

Donovan leaned back in his seat and crossed his arms over his massive chest, a satisfied smile pulling at his lips.

Mick held my gaze, his eyes darkening before quickly turning his head away again. “What do you mean ‘it’s not going to work?’” he asked Donovan.

“Don’t be daft, mate. Look at her! I can see clear as day that she’s not changing back, so obviously the spell hasn’t been broken.”

“Not yet.”

“Not
yet
? Bollocks.” Donovan smirked.

“But why?” This time it was me who spoke, only I barely recognized my own voice it was so soft. The concept that the spell could not be broken was scarier than I wanted to think about…and something I hadn’t even thought to consider. I couldn’t imagine being stuck like this forever, but I knew if we didn’t break the spell, my fate would be much worse than having gray skin and occasional angry outbursts.

Images of horned gargoyles perched atop crusty old haunted mansions floated through my mind, causing a shiver to run up my spine.

A pain formed in my chest, tight at first, and slightly tingly. It slowly crept away from my heart, spreading as the grayness had yesterday. I looked down at my chest, but couldn’t see anything different. The feeling stemmed from deep inside, not on the surface.

I clenched my teeth, reluctant to alert Mick and Donovan to something I didn’t truly understand yet.

“Let me tell you a story, Beauty. Once upon a time, a witch cast a spell on your family. That witch had fallen in love with your ancestor, and he hadn’t returned her feelings. He met you, I mean, he met
your
—what was it, great-grandmother to the twentieth degree, or something?—fell in love, married her, and started a long line of what I can only imagine are beautiful offspring. Judging by you, of course.”

Mick’s hands clenched into fists on the table. I reached over absently to rub the hand closest to me, and he responded by sliding both hands around mine.

“That’s sweet, mate, but if you don’t like when I compliment her beauty, you’re definitely not going to like the end of this little legend. So anyway, at the same time your family is being cursed by this witch, she has her hands in a few different illegal pots, so to speak, and a gambling deal she’s made goes south. Being in the cursed, spell-casting mood that she’s in, instead of killing the old chap for the money he owes her, or finding some way to make him pay up, she casts a spell on him as well, linking him to your family for all of eternity. And, get this, he’d never even met your ancestors, but here he was, destined to be intertwined with them forever. Every four generations, a girl from your family and a boy from his family will meet.”

“How long were you here, spying on me and reading my research?”

“Long enough, little brother. Long enough indeed.” He doesn’t take his gaze off mine when he speaks. “So, here we are, right? A girl from your family, and a boy from mine.”

I couldn’t help but notice that he said
a
girl, and not
the
girl. If I’d allegedly been reincarnated time and time again, that seemed like a pretty big slip-up. I wasn’t just
a
girl from the Briggs family.

I was
the
girl.

“But you’ve fallen in love, correct?” Donovan glanced from me to Mick, but didn’t wait for an answer, and I didn’t bother to correct him. “Well, regardless of your feelings for each other, and how deeply they may or may not go, nothing’s happened. The spell hasn’t broken. You’re still cursed. Blah blah blah.”

“So,” Mick asked, “what are you getting at?”

“The right fourth generation son isn’t here.”

“Bullshit. I’ve been preparing for this since childhood. I’ve studied for countless hours. My father died with years of research still to do, a small fraction of the massive amount he’d already done. This doesn’t involve cousins, brothers, or anyone else. Just my father’s line, and
his
first born.”

His
first
born. I’d figured it out, why couldn’t Mick? I wanted to say something, but pain moved from my chest, slowly engulfing every inch of me. The rapidly growing ache hadn’t travelled past my elbows yet, but I knew without actually knowing that if the pain reached my fingertips, it would be the end of me. I don’t know how I knew; I just did. And I was too terrified to move or speak as the agony spread outward from my heart, a slow burn, consuming me inch by inch.

“Our father, mate.
Our
father. And since I’m older than you—”

“No. No, I don’t believe it. I
won’t
.” Mick stood, still unaware of what was happening to me just a few feet away. He remained in a showdown with Donovan, and I couldn’t find my voice to get his attention. He spoke to Donovan again, still completely oblivious to me, his metaphorical peacock feathers spreading widely behind him. “You need to get out of here before I
throw
you out.”

“See, now I thought you’d be a bit more level-headed about this. The proof is right in front of your face!” Donovan stood up quickly, sending his chair backward with a screech. “Look at her! Look at your beautiful beast! She’s fighting to control the change as we speak!”

Both of them turned toward me, but I couldn’t meet their eyes. I couldn’t move, couldn’t speak. I focused on a spot of grout on the tile, a speck of imperfection left by whoever installed the flooring. I focused all of my attention on that tiny flaw. My vision tunneled. Everything outside of that spot, that tiny blemish, was blackness.

My chest heaved up and down as I struggled to breathe; what little air I obtained burned my lungs. I fought to maintain myself, my
true
self. Something clawed at me from the inside out, trying to escape. Pain wracked my body. Anger filled me, making my chest tighten further. My breathing was heavy and painful. And not nearly enough.

Burning. My skin burned like fire danced across the flesh.

“Holland?” Mick’s panicked voice was but a whisper compared to the whirring frenzy in my head.

I convulsed, my limbs jerking without my consent. I fell to the floor. My body shook and my eyelids flapped open and closed, open and closed. Light, dark, light, dark…I heard voices, muffled and far away. I heard screaming, but it could have been my own. I couldn’t think long enough to pinpoint anything specific.

Searing heat shot down to my fingertips. My back arced in pain.

Flames.

Sweltering. Burning. Raging around me.

Mick’s cool hand flattened across my chest, his fingers splayed above my cleavage. At some point he’d grabbed my hand and placed it beneath his shirt—his chiseled chest rising and falling beneath my fingers slowly pulled my mind back to the present. He told me to focus on his breathing—that much I gathered from the bits and pieces of words floating through my mind. Focusing on his breathing had been the only thing that worked to bring me back from the edge before.

It wouldn’t work this time. I was too far gone. Too consumed by the pain. The searing heat shot up and down through my arms and legs, pulsating its way back into my heart and then streaking back to my extremities. Over and over it pulsed through my veins. My heart pounded in my chest, the rhythm deafening in my ears.

Mick’s lips were on my ear. His voice steady, slow. “Shhh,” he whispered. “Holland, you can beat this. You can do it. Focus on my voice. Focus on my breathing.”

I tried, but I couldn’t see past the black, couldn’t hear past the thumping of my panicked heart. My fingertips burned. My skin peeled away in the wake of the flames.

“You can do this. Focus on my breathing and my words.”

He pressed my hand into his chest harder, as if urging me to follow his commands, but it was no use. I couldn’t match his breathing, couldn’t fight the searing heat coursing through me, over me.

Mick’s fingertips found my neck, strong and hot, more forceful than his gentle touch on my chest. My energy surged, the heated feeling leaving my fingertips, travelling slowly back up my arms, as if reluctantly being pulled from the outermost tips of my body. My heart slowed. The pain in my limbs eased. All of my cells seemed to focus on that point of contact; like molasses, they dragged the fire to that spot where fingers pressed into my skin. My limbs stopped shaking, leaving me with just a few small trembles wracking my body.

All pain and heat flowed north, leaving my body through that simple point of contact—the hard pressure of fingertips on the pulsing vein in my neck.

My heavy breathing slowed as the pain eased.

“Shhh, that’s right,” Mick coaxed. “Try to breathe, Holland. Focus on my voice, on my hand.”

I tried to do what he said, but all I could think about was the connection to his fingers on my neck. I could barely feel his gentle touch on my chest. A hand moved behind my back—the hand that held me up—pulling me closer to Mick. I quickly tallied the places on my body where I felt connections.

Too many hands.

Mick rested his palm just above my breasts, his other hand holding me to him.

Then who’s fingers…?

Donovan.

Donovan’s fingertips were on my neck. Donovan’s touch seemed to draw all of the heat from my body, up and out through the connection of his skin on mine. He rubbed up and down, and the remaining pain slowly seeped out of my skin. I imagined Donovan collecting my agony, pulling it into himself, the fire seeping from my body into his with every second that ticked by.

“Holland? Can you open your eyes? Can you look at me?”

Mick’s voice came from my right, so I turned my head in that direction, ignoring the strong pull I felt to my left. I opened my eyes and found Mick’s face just inches away.

“Oh, thank God.”

His lips pressed to mine, and he kissed me frantically. Even while locked in that kiss, the moment when Donovan’s fingers left my throat nearly devastated me. Where his touch left my skin, the heat and warmth followed, leaving that small area on my neck feeling icy cold in his absence. I couldn’t focus on Mick with the strange feeling of
wrongness
that flooded me when Donovan broke contact with my skin.

“Mick,” I said into his crushing mouth, “you’re going to smother me.”

“I’m sorry, I’m just . . .” he paused, searching my eyes. “That was so much worse than yesterday. I’ve never seen you…I was…I was terrified.”

“I’m okay. I’m…that was horrible.”

Mick helped me into a sitting position. I needed more help than I’d realized, surprised that I could barely move on my own. My body felt like it had been dropped out of a fifty-story building—and bounced a few times for good measure.

“I’ve never felt pain so strong before. I felt like I was on fire. My skin…”

I looked down at my arms and hands hesitantly, scared to discover some proof of the flames that just moments ago lapped at my entire body. I expected charred skin or bright red scarring, but I was still me. Just as gray as I’d been before. On closer inspection, however, I realized the beast remained, lightly moving around inside me. I’d beaten it one more time.

I wondered how many more outbursts would transpire before I was lost to the curse for good. Would Mick be able to pull me back from the edge next time?

I doubted it.

It hadn’t even been Mick that pulled me back this time.

With that thought, I brought my gaze up to find Donovan. He stood across the room, leaning back against the counter, arms crossed over his chest. His dark eyes held mine, and I knew he knew. I wondered if he’d felt the heat slipping into him, the way I’d felt it seeping from me. Had he felt the searing pain and remained stoic throughout?

I had so many questions.

I worried that he’d tell Mick the truth, but he remained quiet, holding my gaze and not saying a word. I broke eye contact and turned back to Mick, praying he hadn’t seen the secret hanging in the air between Donovan and me.

“Mick, Donovan—
your brother
—I think he’s your dad’s first born. I think that’s why he’s saying we won’t able to change this.”

Mick dropped his gaze to the ground, defeated. “I know. I kinda figured that out. I’m so sorry.”

“Why would you say that? You have nothing to be sorry about.”

“I thought it was me. All these years of training, of waiting for you…wasted. I finally found you, and now I discover that I’m not the guy to fix it, not the guy to break the curse. I’ve failed.”

“No.” I pulled his chin up so his eyes were level with mine again. “Don’t say that. We’ll find a way to break the curse, Mick.” I gave him a quick peck. “
We
.”

Mick

Someone beat on the front door of the cabin, interrupting Holland’s unconvincing attempt to reassure me that I hadn’t actually failed her.

But I had.

I jumped up and turned to Donovan when the loud pounding echoed through the cabin.

“Piss off, mate. Don’t look at me, I travel alone.”

I narrowed my eyes, but didn’t respond. I looked back down at Holland, who was still sitting on the ground where I’d left her in an awkward position. “Can you move?”

“Not really, but go check the door. Maybe it’s a neighbor worried about all the screaming.”

How would I explain that?

“I’ll stay with her, brother.”

Donovan’s satisfied smile was wide, and the glint in his eyes mocked me. Just as I began to lunge for him, more pounding carried from the front door.

I glanced between him and Holland.

She rolled her eyes. “I’m fine, Mick. Go.”

I headed to the living room and pulled the heavy curtain aside. Ro’s ugly old station wagon was parked diagonally in the snow-covered gravel driveway. She knocked pretty loudly for someone so small—
and where the hell is her key, anyway?
—which should have clued me into the fact she wasn’t alone, but with everything else going on I was clearly not thinking and opened the door to a very pissed off Cameron.

“Shit.”

“Where is she?” he demanded, shouldering past me. “Holland!”

“Wait, Cam—”

Cam rounded on me, his face inches away from mine. I hadn’t noticed his size before, but now that he towered over me, I realized how unevenly matched we were.

“Don’t you tell me to
wait
. Where the fuck is my sister?”

“Cam?” she called.

His eyes widened at the sound of Holland’s soft voice coming from the kitchen. He turned away from me, thundering through the great room toward the sound.

Ro’s hand was on my arm, halting me from following Cam. “Mick, I’m so—”

“Not now, Ro.” I pulled away from her and headed for the kitchen, not really caring to hear Ro’s apology. She knew why we were up here and knew what she chanced by bringing Cam. I had to trust that she’d felt she had no other choice, but I didn’t have to talk to her. Not right now anyway.

I almost slammed into Cam’s back at the entrance to the kitchen.

“Get away from my sister,” he growled through clenched teeth. I peeked past him to see Donovan holding Holland up, and almost growled with rage myself.

“Well, you see, mate, that’s the funny thing about this situation. If I get away from your sister right now, she’ll crumple to the floor, and I’m not willing to do that to her. So why don’t you cool your raging teenage hormones and have a seat.”

I closed my eyes, wishing Donovan away, but he was still there when I opened them. Cam’s hands clenched and unclenched at his sides, but he hadn’t moved. He appeared to be gauging the truth in Donovan’s words, watching him help Holland into a chair at the dining table, proving he had more self-control than most guys I knew.

“Ro?” I called over my shoulder.

“Yes, I’m here,” she said from directly behind me.

“How much did you tell Cameron?”

“As much as I knew, but he didn’t believe me.”

I assumed he would now.

I slipped past him and went to stand by Holland. I put a hand on her shoulder, and her hand found mine, covering it. Cam watched the action, but within seconds his eyes were back to her face, his eyebrows drawn together as he probably tried to make sense of the fact that his sister was completely gray from head to toe—the only exception her clothing.

“Holland, I…I don’t understand.”

“I know, Cam. I don’t really understand, either. But I’m okay. You can come closer.”

As if not realizing he’d been staying away, Cam closed the distance between them and crouched on the floor next to Holland. Peering up at her with wide eyes, he took her small hands in his big ones, and I stepped aside to sit down in a chair next to them.

“Who are you?”

We all turned our heads to see Ro standing in front of Donovan. She appeared tiny in comparison, but her stance was anything but small. She looked up at him with a dare in her eyes, and her mouth set in a hard line—a rebellious expression she’d given me too many times to count. I’d have laughed if the situation wasn’t so tense.

“Well, well, little one…aren’t you feisty? I’m that chap’s older brother.” He nodded his head toward me. “The name’s Donovan. And who, may I ask, are you?”

“Brother?”

“Yes, love, that’s what I said.”

“But…” Ro turned back toward the table and looked from me to Holland, then back to me. “Mick?”

“Yeah. I’m as shocked as you are.”

She turned back to Donovan. “How do we know we can believe you?”

“Rosemarie,” Holland spoke up softly. “Look at them. It’s obvious.”

Ro did as she was told, eyeing me first, then Donovan, then back and forth a few times for good measure. “Holy Jesus on a stick! I have another brother!”

Before Donovan could make sense of what she’d said, she was hanging around his neck, squealing with joy. He raised his eyebrows at me and circled her with his arms, hugging her back.

“See? Now this is a proper welcome for family, mate. You’d do well to learn from our sister here.”

Ro released his neck and dropped back to the ground, her momentary excitement fading as questions formed in her mind. The same ones I’d had, I imagined.

“Wait,” Ro asked. “Are you on our dad’s side, or Mick’s mom’s side?”

“I’m afraid we’re all on the same side, here, love. Daddy Dearest.”

“And you’re how old?”

“Older than that poor loser over there, I’d say.”

Ro turned back to me. “But if he’s Dad’s eldest son…then that means you…”

“Can’t break the spell. Yeah.” Maybe if we stopped acknowledging the fact, it would lose validity.

“Wow.” Ro sank down into a chair and brought her attention to Holland. Ro studied her, really seeing her gray skin for the first time. “How are you feeling?”

Holland laughed before answering. “Aside from being completely gray, and having moments of rage so intense that I feel it burn through my skin, I’m feeling pretty awesome.”

“Okay, I need some more explanation here, guys. Rosie told me about the…curse.” Still squatting beside Holland, Cam shook his head. “But I don’t get it. We’re actually descended from a Disney movie?”

Donovan took the last remaining chair across from me. “If you want to get technical about it, the Disney movie was descended from you, not the other way around. The fairytale wasn’t fiction, after all. It was a very true story, made to
appear
fictional and beloved by generations, as you probably know. The
Beast
—” he added air quotes to the word, “—was your great-great-great-etcetera-etcetera grandfather.”

“Wow,” Cam murmured.

“Yes, mate,
wow
is correct.”

“So, how do you all come into the story? I thought the Beast and Beauty—
Belle, right?
—got together in the end and broke the spell? Why is Holland cursed?” Cam looked up at his sister again, studying her face.

She gave a slight smile and looked down, avoiding any of our eyes.

Donovan snorted. “That’s what Mickey Mouse
wants
you to believe. But there were many before Disney, and more still to come. People who already have, or one day will, take the story, blow it out of proportion, and profit from it. Though, can’t say as I blame them. A great story such as yours—” he gestured toward Holland, “—add some things here and there, take liberties with the actual events, and then tie up all the loose ends Hollywood-style. Give the people what they want: a happily ever after. Because, truthfully, who would want to read or watch
this
story?”

Donovan stretched his legs out and crossed his arms behind his head.

Holland watched him as he did so, and my chest tightened.
Whoa.
What was that? Jealousy?

“So, the ending is a lie?” Cam asked.

“Yes. The most fictional part of your family’s history, mate, though the rest of the story you’re all familiar with is a bit of a spin as well.”

“Okay, so what really happened?”

Cam looked at me this time, as if not wanting to hear any more from my mysterious new sibling.

I reached for Holland’s hand, sliding her fingers between mine. Turning to Cameron, I began the short version of the story.

“Your ancestor had an affair with a woman who was more than she appeared. She was a witch, a sorceress, and she loved him greatly. As the story goes, when he did not return her love, but instead remained with his
true
love, eventually marrying her and raising a family with her, the witch turned bitter and ugly, cursing them both out of anger and pain.”

“Let’s not get too carried away, mate. I don’t recall any part of the story calling her
bitter and ugly
,” Donovan said.

I ignored his comment.

Cam’s eyes were wide, but I couldn’t tell if he believed the story or thought I was crazy. He looked at Holland again, and his gaze roamed over the gray skin of her face before he brought his eyes back to mine. He nodded, so I continued.

“So, first of all, Beauty and the Beast are not two different people. They are one. Unlike the fairytale version, in this story, Holland is the beauty. She will turn into the beast. My involvement in your family’s history was really just a chance encounter…and some really bad luck. See, at the same time the woman cast a spell on your family, she cast one on mine—
ours
,” I corrected myself, gesturing around the table to include Donovan and Ro. “That is how we became connected, how our curses intertwined.”

“This is too crazy to believe. You guys know that, right?”

“Cameron,” Holland pleaded. “I’m gray.
Gray.
”

“I know, but…shit. Seriously? This is too crazy. I can’t believe this. Nah, it’s too crazy.”

“You’ve mentioned that, and I know it is. But I think we have to believe. I mean, look at me. And that’s not all—I have these moments of freaking out, and…I can
feel
something there.” She pointed to her chest.

“How long have you known?”

“Only a little while. I didn’t know what it was, but I felt something changing inside me. And my eyes started to change before anything else.”

“And you, Mick? Rosie?” Cam looked up at us as he asked.

“Since I was fifteen,” I answered. “And I only told Ro a few years ago when our father passed away. She’d been unaware of the work we’d been doing, but when it was down to just the two of us, I figured it couldn’t hurt to let her in on the details of what my future held. Plus, seeing as she was so close in age to you guys, I knew she could help me get to Holland.”

“Okay.” Cam stood and began pacing. “So, when you say ‘
get to Holland
,’ what do you mean by that? Why did you have to
get
to her? How do you fit into all this?”

“When our families became linked, the curse defined the men in my lineage as Destined: the only ones who had the ability to break the spell. Every four generations—”

“Why four?” asked Cam.

“I don’t know. Anyway, every four generations, the first born son gets a chance to rid our families of the curse. Up until an hour or two ago, I thought that son was me.”

Cam turned to Donovan. “But it’s you? And they didn’t know about you?”

“Exactly,” Donovan said with a sly smile. “But I just found out about them, too, lad, so don’t look so distressed.”

“Okay. So how does
your
family break the curse on
my
family?”

“Love,” Ro spoke up. “Holland has to fall in love with the first born son.”

Cam stopped pacing, looked from me to Donovan and back again, then peered down at his sister. “Wow, Holl. That’s pretty heavy. Doesn’t seem like you have much of a choice here, does it?”

“She absolutely has a choice, Cameron.” I stood, but the power of my words surprised even me. “No one is going to force her to fall in love with anyone.”

As I said it, I knew I meant to finish with
especially Donovan
. No one was going to force her to fall in love with
Donovan
.

“But that’s not true, now is it, Mick?” Donovan said. “You planned for her to fall in love with you. That’s why you whisked her away and brought her here, isn’t it? To fall in love?”

“I brought Holland here to keep anyone from seeing her like this,” I said as calmly as I could, while my insides boiled. “I brought her here to protect her.”

“Don’t you mean to protect others from
her
? To keep her from doing any more harm to the people around her?”

The words left his mouth, replaced with a sardonic grin, before I even realized what he’d done. My mouth slammed shut on any retort I’d been about to make.

“What did you just say?” Holland asked him.

Dammit. She’d obviously not gotten to that part of the story when she’d read everything in my office.

I closed my eyes, wishing for the words to fly back into Donovan’s mouth unsaid.