Divide (23 page)

Holland

With a wink, Donovan stood, the blanket he’d had over his shoulders falling to the ground behind him. He loomed over the fire, his muscles taut within his black t-shirt and snug gray slacks. The flames danced in the air, casting a shadow on the wall behind him.

My eyes widened. The shadow wasn’t right, didn’t seem to be his. My gaze shifted out of focus, then back into focus, as my mind tried to make sense of the shadow behind Donovan. I looked from him to the shadow, then back up to meet his gaze as he shook out his dark hair and laughed. The sound echoed through the cave, but the maniacal laughter wasn’t what made my stomach attempt a quick climb up my throat.

Small and slightly hunched, the shadow of a person sitting in a wheelchair formed on the cave wall, right before my eyes. I brought my gaze back to Donovan once more, who still towered over the fire, but his gaze was no longer light with amusement. Now, his intense eyes watched me, a sneer distorting his previously striking features. His teeth glowed bright in the light of the crimson and orange flames.

Breaking eye contact with the now-terrifying man before me, I forced my attention back to the shadow on the wall, expecting and hoping that I’d imagined the entire thing. But the shape of the figure remained unchanged. Even without seeing the actual person, hunched shoulders and a wheelchair forced one man’s face to the forefront of my mind.

“Wh-who are you?” But I already knew the answer.

“Who, who, said the little brown owl. Stop stuttering, you pathetic girl! You disgust me. You’ve never been good enough for him!” A woman’s voice rang through the cave, the source of it…

No.
Shadows don’t talk.

“Well? What do you think?” Donovan stepped aside, waving his arms in a flourish at the quickly solidifying shadow on the cavern wall.

“Hollandaise, Hollandaise, Hollandaise…” The woman’s voice repeated my familiar nickname, and as the words echoed through the cave, the female voice morphed and changed, turning into the familiar cadence I’d know anywhere—the scratchy, witty sound of Mr. Greenburg.

The old man in the wheelchair that used to tease me about my shoes being untied or sneak extra desserts to me after my parents had cut me off now sat before me, separated by a fire and only a few yards of space. My heart fell deeper into my chest as all the moments I’d spent with Mr. Greenburg over the years flew through my mind in a memory-infused whirlwind.

My pseudo-Grandpa…had he harmed my family in any way? My mother? Me?

How had this happened? I’d loved him so much. We all had.

A tear slipped past my eye, and I knew more would follow. Once one was out…

“Why? I don’t understand. Why would you do this? And…how?”

“You never deserved him. You were never good enough for him.”

I didn’t understand what he was saying, this new Mr. Greenburg. I shook my head slightly, trying to clear my thoughts and make sense of his words. I scanned the area for Donovan, but he was nowhere to be found. Had they been working together this whole time? My mind scrambled to make sense of everything, to no avail. Then, as the flames continued to dance, higher and higher they rose, and the shadow morphed and changed once more. I watched as the person in front of me transformed in unison with the shadow, and then Mr. Greenburg was gone.

A woman in her mid-thirties stood in his place, full-figured with flaming red hair as bright as the fire she stood behind. Her eyes glowed a stunning emerald green. Beautiful—if they hadn’t been so full of hatred. She wore a rich green, velvety dress that mirrored the color of her eyes, with a round hoop skirt and a corset that squeezed her waist into a tiny sliver, pushing her breasts to spilling out over the top.

“Enjoying the show, love?” Donovan had returned, firewood in his arms. He set the kindling down, then stepped toward the woman, bending down to place a delicate kiss on her cheek. “Mother. Don’t you look ravishing tonight?”

I curled my lip in disgust.
Mother?

Her green eyes flared when he stepped aside. “Look at me, girl. Tell me you were better for him than I was. Tell me you even came
close
to being worthy of his love.”

“I—I . . .” I was stuttering again. I had no idea what she was talking about, or who he was that she kept referring to.
Donovan? Rod?
Was she talking about Rod? “I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t! You’re as brainless now as you have been every four generations for the past—” she paused, closing her eyes and squeezing the bridge of her nose between her thumb and forefinger, “—Ugh! I don’t know!”

Donovan tsk-tsked as he tossed another log into the fire. “Calm, Mother.”

“I don’t even know how long it’s been, and I have had to endure every single one of her mind-numbing reincarnations. As if putting up with her the first go ‘round wasn’t torture enough!”

“Oh my God. You’re—”

“Ding ding ding! We have a winner, folks! The little harlot has finally figured it out! Yes.” She spun in a slow circle and then curtsied. “I am exactly who you think I am, though you don’t remember me.” She stood, squaring her shoulders and resting her hands on hourglass hips. “Unfortunately,” she sneered. “I remember you.”

“You’re the witch who cursed my family.”

“Yes. And no. See, I cursed you, not your family, not your descendants. You.
You
have to come back over and over again, reliving this same nightmare, always with the same horrid ending. The beautiful girl turns to stone at the end of this story, see. Every. Single. Time.”

Donovan kicked his black boot into the fire, and the flames rose, sending a few wayward sparks into the air. The woman—his
mother
—stepped back hastily, her eyes going wild before she quickly returned her narrowed gaze to me.

“And the rage?” I asked, probing to get to the bottom of this and anxious to stall as long as I could. I had yet to devise a plan of escape, and now I had two psychopaths to deal with. “Why the rage, the anger? To punish me?”

She leaned forward, eyes blazing. “To make you everything you never were, the opposite of what he saw in you. I take your kindness and turn it to rage, your calm to chaos.”

“Why? I don’t get it. Why do you want to relive this a thousand times?”

She shrieked then, an ear-piercing wail that reminded me of a toddler throwing a tantrum in the middle of a department store. She crossed the cave, giving a wide berth to the fire, then knelt down to bring her eyes level with mine. Her hands tugged at her orange hair, and up close, I saw just how wild her eyes really were. And brown. They were definitely brown now. But how could that be?

Magic.
The word whispered across my mind. Magic. Of course.

She shook her head, quick, curt movements that shook her curls. Her lips twisted into a deep scowl, distorting her pretty face. “I can’t let you win. Don’t you see?” Her breath was hot, and spittle flew with each word. I cringed as she continued, her voice shrill and painful in my ears as it bounced off the barren cave walls. “I can’t let you win! I can’t! I won’t! So I will find new ways to torture you every time you come back. Because your existence tortured me.”

As her words sunk in, my chest tightened with a mixture of feelings. I feared the worst for myself, but something about this story caused an annoying flare of sympathy deep down in my chest. That this witch—this
woman
—had been so tormented for so long…what a horrible life.

“I feel sorry for you.” The words were out of my mouth before I could stop myself, and I instantly regretted them. My eyes widened, and I struggled to scoot back, but I had nowhere to go. Cold, stone walls stretched up and around me on all sides, and I could move to either side only a foot or two with these rope restraints.

I barely registered the movement before the sting of her palm radiated through my cheek. My head flew to the right, knocking into jagged rocks. Pain swelled in my forehead on one side, my cheek on the other. Wetness dripped down from my hairline, warm and thick. Blood.

Donovan laughed. My head throbbed.

“Don’t you dare.” She bent so her emerald eyes were even with mine, then smiled a hungry, menacing grin.
Green eyes again? What the hell?
“Don’t you dare pity me, you insufferable toad. I have watched you fall in love, watched the men who loved you fall to pieces in your absence, watched the families mourn your loss, more times than I can count. Do not feel sorry for me, child. My revenge has been plenty, and always sweet.”

Wait.
Her words triggered a fresh wave of questions in my mind.

If I’d loved in these past lives, why hadn’t the spell been broken? And, if she’d watched my family mourn with each of my deaths, then, had they known what became of me? Had they seen the statues each time?

“Wait. How can you—?”

“No,” she snapped. She crossed the cave, again giving the fire plenty of room when she passed, then sat down beside Donovan on the far side. As the light of the flames reflected on her skin, casting a fiery glow on her already vibrant auburn hair, she glared. Without tearing her gaze from me, she reached for two long pieces of metal, both of them pointed at the ends, and glinting in the light of the fire. She set them in her lap and reached for a ball of colorful yarn—
wait a minute. You’ve got to be kidding me.
Knitting needles? She was going to knit right now? I would have laughed at the absurdity of it, had the fleeting image of those needles sticking out of my neck not flashed through my mind. “You don’t get to ask questions.”

“Really? You won’t answer my questions while we sit here, waiting for God knows what?”

“No. You get nothing.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

Donovan’s lips pulled into a smirk, then he looked over at her. “I told you she had a dirty American mouth.”

“Bite me, Donovan.” He grinned, so I returned my attention to his mother the witch. “You won’t give me even a few answers before you kill me?”

She looked up from whatever knitting project she played with in her lap, a smile pulling at her lips. “Listen to you, so much sassier than you’ve ever been before. I like this modern you.”

“Awesome. So. Back to the questions.”

“Fine. You get three questions. Make them count. It’s the least I can do while your lifetime ticks away before your eyes.”

“Again.” Donovan winked at me, then they shared a laugh at my expense. I hoped that whenever I devised an escape plan, it included some epic way to inflict harm on them.

Donovan raised his eyebrows. “Careful, love. Wouldn’t want to bring Beasty out just yet.”

I felt the urge to strangle him, and my fists clenched in my lap—without my consent. A movement that did not go unnoticed.

“Nah ah ah.” The witch waggled a knitting needle in the air. “Donovan’s right. It isn’t quite time for that, dear.”

I closed my eyes and inhaled a few deep breaths, trying to calm myself. Finally, I opened my eyes again, bringing my knees up to my chest and wrapping my arms around my legs, thankful the ropes allowed that much movement. With my ankles knotted together, I’d have a hard time running, but I had to find a way. Had to escape. I tugged a bit at the restraints on my wrists, trying to see how loosely they were tied to the wall, but the witch cleared her throat, and I looked up.

She shook her head.

Fine. “Okay. First question. And I might add that I also want answers.
Truthful
answers.”

The witch winked at me, then urged me on with a slight flick of her wrist. “Go on, then.”

“Each time I was reincarnated…if you watched my family mourn my loss each time I…
died
…where did they think I’d gone? Did they know I turned into a statue? Is there a Briggs family statue garden somewhere that I don’t know about?”

She raised her eyebrows, then glanced at Donovan, whose gaze never wavered from mine, then returned her attention to the knitting project she worked on, a smile on her face. “Oh, dear. Are you confident you want those to be your three questions?”

Three questions? Damn.
She had me there. I needed to focus and condense my questioning. “No. I’ll rephrase.”

“That was your only warning.”

Donovan kicked at the fire again, and the woman’s eyes widened before she shot him a disapproving glare.
What’s her deal with fire?

“When you watched my family mourn my death, what did they think happened to me?”

There. That seemed to cover all the bases.

“Oh! That’s the fun part! They never know what happens to you.”

“What do you mean?”

The witch looked up and tilted her head, acknowledging that I’d just wasted another question.

“Oh, come on!” I shouted.

She laughed, a soft cackle that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. “Fine. I’ll give you that question as a freebie. Because I like you more than I have in years past, and—as tragic as it is—I think my boy is sweet on you.”

Go me.

I met Donovan’s gaze and he licked his lips.

My stomach tilted. I imagined projectile vomiting on them, à la Exorcist.