"Where are you staying now?" Mom asked, her hands tight over mine as worry appeared in her eyes.

"A friend's place. Just for now, till the work's over and then we'll go back from here and leave this all behind," I promised her with hope in my words. "I just—I worried a lot about you."

"Don't. That young man takes a lot of care of me."

I smiled at the mention of Callan. "He does, doesn't he? I don't know what I would do without him." Raising my head, I saw him standing at the corner, near to the kitchen doorway, listening in to our conversation.

A smile stretched over my mother's face as she caught the hints. "Is there something I should know about?"

"Nothing," I turned my face away from hers before she caught me blushing. "Tell me about yourself. What have you been doing? I know the whole thing might have taken a toll on you, but you're safe here and no one is going to harm you."

"I know," She nodded. There wasn't any trace of fear in her voice, only strength and determination, which meant Callan was right. He was taking care of her and I had nothing to worry about. "I've been keeping myself busy since I came here. That young man has quite a collection of books."

"Oh, he does?" My brows furrowed.

I never knew Callan was a reader. I glanced at the kitchen door again, where he was standing. He gestured me to come to him and I quickly rose up from the couch.

"One minute. I'll just prepare some tea."

Stepping away from my mother, I walked over to Callan and we both went inside the kitchen together. I turned on the fire and placed some water above it.

"Don't tell her anything about what's happening."

"I know. I didn't," I whispered back to him. "But shouldn't she know? She's my mother and hiding it all from her is going to be hard, especially when she's asking so many questions."

"Do you want her to know that her only daughter has a fifty percent chance of dying?" Callan asked, cocking a brow at me.

My lips parted at his wording. "That's not true."

"That is. There's probably a chance that you're mother's going to spend the rest of her life away from you, whether you live or die. It's better if you ease her into the idea that you're working here and that you might be staying here for a longer time." He folded his arms over his chest and explained to me.

He wasn't wrong. My heart sank at the truth of his words. The weight of the situation was heavy, and it seemed to be getting heavier day by day.

Whether I lived or not, I was going to be hunted by Alexandria and her people for the rest of my life—that's if I managed to break the curse without killing myself.

"But what should I do about her? She can't stay here for the rest of her life, and I don't want her to stop living just because of the mistakes I've done." With a heavy breath, I continued.

"I know," Callan agreed. "Once the curse is broken, we'll send her away, to another city, or country and she'll live her life there. No one else will know who she is and you could visit her sometimes."

My mind went blank for a moment at the thought of it all.

I turned back to the stove and poured some tea leaves into the pot, watching them swirl and dancing in the boiling water. The aroma of the tea filled the air, and I took a deep breath in, trying to calm my nerves.

Callan placed his hands on either side of my shoulders, bringing me back to reality. "Don't worry, I'll make sure she's safe and happy wherever she is."

I leaned back into his touch, grateful for his reassurance. "Thank you," I turned of the fire and poured the tea into cups. "Want some?"

He gagged behind me. "Drink your own witchy voodoo."

"It's just a tea." I picked up the tray after placing a few biscuits next to the cups and turned around.

"You're a witch, everything you make is witchy voodoo,"

I let out a small laugh before heading toward the door. He followed me and then stopped. "Don't say anything to her."

I nodded, fully understanding what he meant. It was best to keep my mother in the dark about the danger that surrounded me.

Walking back to the living room, I sat down and settled the tray near her. It had been a while since I had made anything for her. We both enjoyed sipping on tea every night, even before I killed my father.

"I've missed this more than you think." She reached out and picked up a cup and at the same time, so did I.

Callan sat down on one of the dark brown leather couches near the fireplace. He leaned back and crossed his legs, peering at us both for the rest of the evening while we spoke and caught up on life.

"There's something I've meaning to share with you, Viv," My mother said, placing her cup on the table. There was a hint of fear in her voice that made my heart skip a beat. "I didn't know how to tell you."

"Tell me." I placed my hand over hers and furthered her to continue.

Her eyes filled up with panic as she did, "When those men came at my door and took me, I spent the night somewhere dark, in a house and since then, I've been seeing dreams about your father, almost as if he's alive."

"He's dead, Mama."

"I know that, but these dreams, they feel real." She shuddered and everything that I killed my father for, came rushing into her eyes.

My hand wrapped around hers tighter. "He's not coming back, ever. Don't worry about it. They are just dreams. I can take them from you if you want me to," I suggested. "I've learned a few spells."

"Could you, please?"

I nodded and set the cup on the table with hers before grabbing onto her hands and closing my eyes. I focused my energy and started to whisper a spell under my breath. It was something Elijah had taught me in those days when he had been teaching me magic.

The warmth of my hands spread to hers, and I could feel the tension in her body slowly dissipating. I consumed her fear, taking her nightmares and dreams from her and replacing them with a sense of calm and nothingness.

A few moments later, I stopped chanting and opened my eyes.

"You won't dream of him anymore." I whispered, still holding her hand.

She wrapped her arms around me in a tight hug and held me there, in her embrace for the following few minutes. I tried not to think of him, my cruel father. He was dead and he was never going to return, while my mother and I were going to live a long life without him.

The evening went by with us chattering in the comfort of Callan's safe house, sipping out tea and listening to the faint crackling of the fireplace. My mother drifted off to sleep just as we were meant to leave. I tucked her in and sat with her for a few minutes, while Callan stood outside, in the dark.

"Goodnight, Mom. I love you." I whispered to her before parting my hand away from mine and raising up from the bed.

I walked softly into the living room, my footsteps whispering against the wooden floor like a secret shared in the night. Moonlight filtered in through the sheer curtains and fell over Callan. As I neared him, his arms opened, inviting me to his embrace. I quickly hugged him. His fingers tangled with my hair as he turned me away from the door of the bedroom.

"I'll bring you back soon. I promise you, little witch. Don't cry."

With a small laugh, I parted myself from him and nudged his chest. "I won't cry."

"You would've," He cupped my face and lowered his mouth to mine. "But I won't let you." He whispered, his breath warm as it caressed my lips.

My mouth met with his as I kissed him. It was a short kissed, but it surely bought a rise out of Callan.

"There's another bedroom—"

"The walls are too thin. I don't want my mother to be traumatized after hearing us above her. She's got a lot to worry about anyways." I wrapped my hand around Callan's and forced him out of the house before he began showing me the bedroom.

With a playful roll of his eyes, he dropped his large arm over my shoulder and we headed back to the car to return to Elijah's house. There was a bittersweet moment which was a reminder of the normalcy we craved, a taste of life we could have if we could only escape the shadows lurking around us.

Upon reaching the car, Callan opened the door for me and my heart swelled with warmth. "After you, little witch."

"Thank you."

I slid into the passenger seat, the leather cool and smooth beneath me. As Callan started the car, the engine roared to life. Without any delay, he got on the road and drove quick, leaving a chapter of our lives behind.

The journey back to Elijah's house was a quiet one where my head was against his arm and his one hand was buried in my hair while the other one was on the wheel.

Just as we reached his house, a thought—a perfectly planned scenario crossed my mind and I rose up.

"I think I've an idea."

"Of?" Callan killed the engine and stepped out of the car with me.

"To get inside the throne room and break the curse," My eyes widened with excitement. "By using the masquerade ball to our advantage."

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