Nightfall (Grim Gate #1) - Emily Goodwin Page 0,65

starts with a huff. “My problem is we’re dealing with a witch.” Her eyes narrow as she looks at me. “What coven do you belong to?”

“I don’t belong to any coven,” I tell her, refusing to waver. I don’t know what her deal is, but I’ve done nothing wrong.

“But you’re a witch,” Sam goes on, as if that’s an offense.

“If she is,” David says, eyeing Sam with contempt, “then she very well may be the last kin of her coven.”

I feel like someone socked me in the stomach. “What?”

“The Order has looked for witches over the last several decades and has come up empty-handed,” David explains. “For some reason, your powers have gone undetected, and you may be the last witch in your family line.”

“I have a brother,” I rush out. “A twin brother, but he doesn’t have any powers as far as I know.”

Silence falls over the table for a moment. “I’m no expert on magic or how magical heritage is passed down,” David starts. “Though I do know magic can skip generations, especially when the bloodline isn’t pure.”

“Is that why the demons are after me?”

“It could be,” David says, eyes meeting Julia. She shakes her head and looks away. What aren’t they telling me? “Ethan tells me you’re in possession of an enchanted dagger that seems to target demons, which would lead me to believe demons aren’t a fan of anyone hailing from your coven. Though that alone doesn’t explain why the Pricolici have been sent after you.” He looks at Ethan. “I agree, the timing of everything is too convenient.”

“I’m telling you,” Ethan starts. “It has something to do with her aunt.”

“Well, she’s dead and not talking,” I say ruefully. “So…so what do I do now?”

“Don’t worry.” Ethan’s hand lands on top of mine and I tip my head up to him. “We’ll figure it out. It’s what we do…and why we have all these books.” He makes a face, gives my hand a squeeze, and picks a book up from the pile.

I absent-mindedly flip through the pages of my Book of Shadows, trying to take it all in. If there are no other witches, then I’ll never get answers…but I’m starting to get my memories back, and I know I went somewhere with Aunt Estelle and there were other witches there.

A lot of other witches.

I go to turn another page in the book, but it sticks to the one behind it. Using my nail, I carefully separate the two pages that were stuck together.

“Holy fuck,” I say out loud when I read the spell.

Ethan looks over my shoulder. “Well, that answers a lot of questions.”

It’s a binding spell, and I know the handwriting to be Aunt Estelle’s. Nerves prickling, I plant my hands on the table and slowly shake my head back and forth as I read.

“Out of love and pure affection, I bind your powers for your protection. Destiny’s cruel fate will you never face, a normal life you can now embrace. I bind your powers, I bind your powers, I bind your powers. Anora Paige Benson, I bind your powers.”

“What is it?” Julia asks.

“It’s a binding spell,” I answer. “My aunt…she…she bound my powers.” I was right about everything. The dreams aren’t just dreams. The memories are real. And that place Aunt Estelle took me to…that place that felt like home the second I stepped through the door…it was real too. “Why would she do that?” I ask, feeling violated. I’ve been a witch this whole time? And Aunt Estelle knew? She had to know about the ghosts too, and after years of being in my life, of teaching me magic, she just left.

“So you wouldn’t get mad and curse a village someday?” Sam supplies, earning another glare from both her sister and David.

“She died and the binding spell broke,” Ethan says, ignoring Sam. “Maybe she didn’t account for that.”

“Or she did.” I pull my arms around myself. “Which is why she left everything to me.” I bite my lip, slowly shaking my head. A lot of emotions are surging through me right now, and anger is fighting its way to the front.

Not only did Aunt Estelle hide a huge part of myself from me, but she fucked with my memories too. There’s a reason I have a hard time recalling her face, and it’s because she did something, cast another sort of spell to make me forget. The same with the way I remember the café being in Michigan, and why I don’t

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