The Ex Hex (Ex Hex #1)(72)

“Feckless, possibly,” he answered now. “Cruel? I certainly hope not.”

Moving toward him, Vivienne spread her arms wide as behind her, Gwyn and Elaine watched, ashen.

“Gryffud wanted his magic to build this town,” she said. “Wanted it to be his legacy. His own private kingdom.”

“That does sound like the men in my family.”

“But there wasn’t enough. He was not enough,” Vivienne went on, so close now that he caught a whiff of ozone and earth, nothing like Vivienne’s own sugary sweet scent. “And so he asked for my help.”

The eyes fixed somewhere over Rhys’s shoulder, and he somehow knew she was seeing the caves, the ley lines. “I meant to blend my magic with his, but he took all of it.”

Her gaze fastened on him. “All of me. He drained me dry to build his town, and then erased my name from it. Built shrines in his own image. No thanks for my sacrifice, not even acknowledgment. It was as if I never was.”

Rhys could hear the hurt underneath all of that, and even though he knew it wasn’t Vivienne speaking to him, the words still lodged somewhere in his chest like a stone. “If it’s any consolation,” he said, “Gryffud did die of smallpox which I hear is pretty awful, so—”

“There can be no consolation!” Her voice rose, the wind whipping higher, Vivienne’s hair blowing back from her face as overhead, the trees swayed and groaned.

“My descendant called on me to curse you, and so I did. And you in turn have cursed this town. My revenge would be complete, watching you both turn to ash.”

She tilted her head, watching him, and Rhys braced himself for . . . he wasn’t sure what, exactly. A smiting? That seemed likely.

But then, she said, “Except that this woman, this sister of my blood, asks me to spare both. To lift this curse from you and the town.”

Rhys took a slow, deep breath. “She does.”

“And why should I?”

Rhys thought for some reason, some completely unimpeachable argument to save both his life and Graves Glen, but all he could say was, “I love her.”

Those eyes didn’t blink. “You love her,” Vivienne/Aelwyd repeated, and Rhys nodded.

“I love her, and I hurt her, and I deserved to be cursed. But Graves Glen is her home. Her family’s home. I can’t let it be destroyed because of me.”

The moonlight spilled down into the graveyard, and for the first time, Rhys noticed a sort of shimmering veil around Vivienne, could see her heart pounding in her throat. Was she still in there, his Vivienne? Could she hear him?

“And if I were to spare the town but take you, what then?”

Gaze dark, the witch pressed even closer, and Rhys made himself stand his ground. “Then take me,” he said. “It’s a fair price for what was done to you.”

“Rhys,” he heard Gwyn cry, but Elaine stilled her with a hand on her wrist, and Rhys gave her a wobbly grin.

“Ah, finally, I’m not ‘dickbag’ anymore.”

Aelwyd was still studying him through Vivienne’s eyes, and Rhys was very, very aware that his life was hanging in the balance.

And then she backed away from him, some of the wind dying down, that smell like lightning striking the earth fading.

“You must love her, then,” she said.

“I do,” he answered. “Madly.”

She gave a sigh, Vivienne’s chest rising and falling, and then she closed her eyes. “I can see her heart,” Aelwyd said. “Feel it inside her chest. She loves you, too, and would not see you harmed, and as she is of my blood, I’ve decided to grant her request.”

Rhys tried not to actually fall to the ground with relief, but it was a struggle. “Thank you,” he breathed, and he saw Gwyn and Elaine clutch hands.

“Thank you,” Rhys repeated. “And I promise, I’ll set this right about that bastard Gryffud. No more statue, definitely no Founder’s Day. I might even see if I can get my brother Wells to change his middle name.”

Aelwyd frowned, and for a second, Rhys wondered if mentioning the family connection had been a bad idea, but it wasn’t that. She wasn’t even looking at him, but back up toward the grave, her hands opening and closing at her sides.

“It’s . . . the curse. I cannot lift it.”

“Beg pardon?”

She went to her knees, head tilting back to look up at the sky. “I’m not strong enough.” And her voice was sounding weaker, fainter, Vivienne’s voice stronger.

Her eyes found his again, and this time, it felt more like Vivienne was looking back at him. “I’m sorry, Rhys Penhallow,” Aelwyd said. “It’s too late.”

And then there was a sound like the crack of thunder and Vivienne slumped to the ground.





Chapter 33




Vivi was getting a little tired of doing magic and somehow ending up on the ground.

She opened her eyes to see Gwyn, Rhys and Elaine all standing over her, and from the expressions on their faces, she was guessing the ritual hadn’t worked. Or had she even managed to do it? The last thing she remembered was her hand on Aelwyd’s grave, asking her ancestor to lift the curse, and then it was all a big blank until now.

“Is it over?” she asked Rhys, and he tried to smile at her as he helped her to her feet.