Gabe’s voice was soft, barely above a whisper as he spoke to Gale, careful not to let the teens in the room overhear. “You don’t look like you’ve aged a day.”

Gale instinctively touched her face, as if to reassure herself of the truth in his words, but quickly let her hand fall. “It’s a side effect of staying in wolf form for so long.”

Gabe cast a wary glance toward the door. “Does Maya—”

“Have the shifting gene?” Gale finished for him, her tone flat. She shook her head, leaning heavily against the door as if the weight of her thoughts was too much to bear. “I don’t think so. She seems to have taken after Austen completely.”

A small, wry smile tugged at Gabe’s lips.

Gale’s expression hardened. “That’s not a good thing, Gabe.”

Gabe’s eyes narrowed, his lips pressing into a tight line.

“It isn’t, and you know it,” Gale hissed, her voice barely audible. “Instability and insanity have plagued the James lineage for centuries. Francis James was one of the most notoriously evil and mentally unstable men ever recorded. It’s the dark magic—it’s too much for the mind to handle sometimes. It corrupts, it dilutes, it destroys. It’s a curse to have that blood in your veins.”

Gabe’s jaw tightened, and he shot her a defensive glare. “Says the woman who once wanted to marry Austen and give him all the children he desired. Your bitterness is showing, Gale. It doesn’t suit you.”

“I know you loved him, Gabe,” Gale’s voice wavered slightly, “but Austen was a monster. I realized too late that I had doomed my daughter. That’s why I left—to understand, to learn about the James legacy.”

Gabe’s eyes flicked to hers, filled with skepticism. “So you’re an expert now?”

“I’ve studied their history from the very first James to Austen himself,” Gale said, her voice steadying with conviction. “I’ve walked the sites of their dark rituals, places where nothing grows, even after hundreds of years. I’ve tread through the fields where they fought and bled, where they massacred anyone who opposed them. I’ve seen the villages they wiped out to seize their power. I’ve even journeyed through the Halls of Thrall.”

Gabe’s eyes widened at that.

“I might have been naive when I first got involved, but I’m not that sixteen-year-old girl anymore,” Gale said, her voice intense. “Now I know the evil that will try to claim my daughter. I know how to help her fight it and manage the impulses that come with it.”

Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.

“You need to stop framing it as some horrific curse,” Gabe said, yanking his arm from her grasp, barely flinching when her claws left a scratch. “Austen had six children. Even if his plans for them don’t come to fruition, they’re still alive and will thrive. Austen’s death didn’t end the James legacy. They’ll rise again, stronger than ever. Maya is the Firstborn, the natural leader, with the purest James blood. Once her siblings activate their dark magic, they’ll be bound to her, just like every James with active magic before them. No matter what you do, she’s destined to be everything she’s meant to be. If you truly care for her, you’ll put aside your old wounds and help her become the Matriarch she’s destined to be.”

Gale watched him in silence as he turned away, disgust clear in his features.

Gabe stormed off, leaving Gale leaning heavily against the door. She closed her eyes tightly, her fears weighing heavily on her. “That’s what I’m afraid of.”

Howard raised an eyebrow, eyeing Jason as he arranged a bouquet of flowers in a vase in the library. “Flowers, huh?”

Jason adjusted the bouquet with a smirk, turning to face Howard. “I’ve found a way to get an ‘in’ with the Coven here.”

Howard’s interest piqued. “By buying flowers?”

Jason rolled his eyes, flopping onto the couch next to the table. “No. By getting close to the girl who sells them.”

Howard leaned against the wall, his expression unreadable. “Is that so?”

“Since Clarissa Jackson and Harper Lang have disappeared, the Coven’s vulnerable. What better way in than by using my charm on the remaining female?” Jason plucked a flower from the vase, holding it to his chest and stroking its petals. “She’s my way into the Coven.”

Howard’s eyes narrowed. “She’s sixteen. That’s legal here, but it might raise some eyebrows.”

Jason shrugged. “I said I’d get close to her. I never said I’d do anything that would draw unwanted attention. Besides, she’s turning seventeen soon. I’m only two years older.”

Howard struggled to mask his reaction.

Seventeen. The girl would be seventeen soon.

Casandra Blake had just turned sixteen a few months ago. Eliane Meade was around the same age. Howard still needed to dig into Harper Lang’s records more thoroughly, but he was almost certain that Maya Burns was the oldest of the group by a few months. Still, it could be Harper Lang—she could be the Firstborn. Everything seemed to point to Harper, except for Jason’s fixation.

If Harper was truly the Firstborn, considering Jason’s recent symptoms of enthrallment, he would be reacting more strongly. Hadn’t Jason been on edge since he got out of quarantine? Even in Harvest Grove, he’d been irritable, cracking his knuckles repeatedly. Howard had hoped that arriving at the high school would help, but Jason’s silence and his tendency to scratch his arm were concerning. The illness that had swept through him seemed to have subsided, but his fixation on Maya remained.

Howard cleared his throat, his face betraying none of his thoughts. “I still want you in that school.”

Jason nodded, finally looking up. “About that... I’ve figured something out.”

Howard’s lips curled into a sly smile as he eyed his most valuable asset. “Do tell.”

Eliane lay in bed, her palms marked with the James symbol. Suddenly, her eyes snapped open, and she reached out for the girl beside her with one of her scarred hands. “Di...”

Eliane jolted awake with a cry, her heart racing and her scarred palm tingling. Maya. It had to be Maya, the sister Casandra had been seeing for a while now. But why was Eliane seeing her now?

“Did I wake you?” Grant asked, opening her door and peering in.

“Where are we?” Eliane asked, rubbing her eyes and instinctively hiding her scarred palm.