Chapter 16
Rebecca woke to warmth, sunlight slanting across her parlor and the steady rise and fall of Nathaniel's chest beneath her cheek. For a heartbeat, she thought she was still dreaming. But his arm was draped around her, protective and steady, and her own hand rested on his shirt, just above his heart.
She blinked up at him. His eyes were already open, soft, watching her as though she were something fragile he feared to break.
"Good morning," he murmured.
She flushed, pulling back slightly. "Did we?"
"No," he said gently, his mouth curving faintly. "Only sleep. It seems even warlocks can rest when someone holds them long enough."
Rebecca's heartbeat fastened. "Is that what we are Witches and Warlocks?"
"Yes." His gaze deepened, voice low. "And you don't know how much that means to say to you."
Rebecca sat up, brushing her hair back, her body heavy with the exhaustion of the night before but steadied by the simple reality of him beside her. Her hand drifted to her stomach. "I think the babies want food. Maybe brunch."
Nathaniel chuckled under his breath, slipping from the bed. "Then brunch it is."
The kitchen filled with the warm sizzle of butter and eggs, the sharp aroma of coffee. Rebecca sat at the table, cradling a mug between her palms while Nathaniel moved with practiced ease. For once, the world felt almost normal.
Almost.
"Do you think anyone else will answer the call?" she asked quietly.
Nathaniel glanced back at her, his expression thoughtful. "Yes. They'll feel it. Bloodlines cannot ignore the circle once it's stirring. But not all will come willingly. Some will have to be convinced to come and reminded of what's at stake."
He slid a plate of food in front of her, then leaned back against the counter. "You should know who they are. What each family is bound by to the hollow."
Rebecca nodded, fork in hand, listening as he laid it out like scripture.
"The Weathermans your line. The Anchor. You, your children, Deanna, Thomas. Your blood is the bargain the Hollow remembers."
"The Edgeworths my family. The Keepers. Guardians chained to the Hollow. Myself, Greyson, Carolina."
"The Berkshires the Watchers. Star and her brother Steve. They carry memory and stories, resisting erasure."
"The Boyds the Builders. Jonathan, Clara, Taylor, Elias. Their walls and sigils keep the Hollow at bay."
"The Callaghans the Threshold Keepers. Maeve, Patrick, Siobhan, Cormac, Eileen. They guard life's passages birth and death."
"The Aldens the Flame. Margaret alone remains. She keeps the celebrations, gatherings, the holidays, the joy the Hollow despises."
"The Mercers the Eye. Daniel Mercer alone, keeper of words and histories."
"The Michaels gone now, but their Mirror remains. A relic that shows the shadow clinging to a soul."
"The Showmans Millie's line. The Loom. She binds the families together whether they wish it or not."
Rebecca's fork stilled. Hearing them named, one by one, made it real. "Nine families. Nine responsibilities. And I'm supposed to hold it all together."
Nathaniel crossed to her, his hand brushing over hers on the table. "Not just you. The children too. They already know it."
Her breath caught. "What do you mean?"
His voice softened. "I've spoken to them. Not in flesh, but in the binding light. They told me their names."
Rebecca's eyes burned with tears. "Tell me."
"Bianca Elenor Weatherman-Edgeworth. Penelope Deana Weatherman-Edgeworth. Gabriel Ryan Weatherman-Edgeworth." He said them reverently, as if reciting a prayer. "They are strong, Rebecca. They are not afraid. They already know who they are, and they choose to tell me."
Her hand pressed to her stomach, her lips trembling as she whispered the names aloud. Bianca. Penelope. Gabriel. The babies stirred, answering.
When she looked up, Nathaniel's storm grey eyes were on her steady, dark, and impossibly old. For the first time, she saw more than just the man who stood in her kitchen. She saw centuries.
She drew a shaky breath. "How old are you, really?"
For a long moment, silence stretched. Nathaniel's gaze didn't waver. "I look in my forty's," he said at last, voice low. "I've looked in my forty's for longer than you've been alive. But the truth, Rebecca" He set his hand flat over hers. "I've lived more than two centuries. I was here before your grandmother. Before Alexander vanished. Before Tina made her choice. I stopped counting when the years stopped mattering."
Rebecca stared, her heart pounding. "Two hundred years."
"Yes." His mouth curved into the faintest smile, sad and unflinching. "All the families are older. And still, here I am. Bound to the Hollow. Now bound to you."
"Time is not th same in The Hollow, it speeds up for some and stops all together for others."
Her breath trembled, but she didn't pull away. Instead, she tightened her grip on his hand. "Then it's time those years finally meant something."
Nathaniel's eyes softened, steady as ever. "They already do."
When she finished, she pushed her plate back and stood to carry it to the sink. The motion seemed small, but halfway there her legs wavered, the weight of fatigue pulling through her muscles.
"Rebecca" Nathaniel was at her side before she could stumble, his arm firm around her waist, steadying her against the counter.
She braced her palms against the cool edge of the sink, her breath trembling. "I didn't think I was this tired."
"You're pushing too hard," he murmured, his voice low."
She looked up at him, her breath ragged, his face so close she could see the faint gold flecks in his dark eyes. "I'm fine," she whispered, though her body said otherwise.
Nathaniel's thumb brushed along her cheek, his gaze searching hers. "Because they are the bridge. Your line was bargained, mine was bound. Together, they form the shield the Hollow fears. Bianca, Penelope, Gabriel — they already know it. It was their choice."
Her chest tightened at the sound of their names. "Bianca. Penelope. Gabriel," she echoed, pressing a hand over her belly.
"They are not afraid," Nathaniel said gently. "Not of the Hollow. Not even of what's to come.
Her lips parted to argue, but he bent closer too close his breath brushing hers. The bond between them thrummed hot, insistent, until it was impossible to tell if the weakness in her legs was exhaustion or something else entirely.
"Nathaniel" His name slipped out like a plea.
He caught it, answered it with his mouth on hers. The kiss was fierce, hungry, nothing of the patience he showed by daylight. He pressed her back lightly against the fridge, his hand cradling her jaw as if she might shatter, while the other anchored her at her waist.
Rebecca's fingers curled into his shirt, pulling him closer instead of pushing him away. The bond flared, heat racing down her spine, settling deep in her belly where the children stirred as if they too recognized the fire.
When they broke apart, both were breathless. Hearts racing, Nathaniel rested his forehead against hers, eyes dark and unguarded.
"They'll know," Rebecca whispered, her voice unsteady. "Anyone who looks at us will know."
"Let them," he rasped, his thumb brushing her lower lip. "This bond is ours. Nothing in the Hollow can touch this."
And before she could answer, a sharp knock rattled the door, the sound cutting through the haze of heat between them. They froze, still tangled in each other's arms.
Nathaniel's jaw clenched, his voice low. "The circle is beginning to answer the call."
Rebecca's pulse still raced when the door swung open, and Deanna stood framed in the light, wide-eyed, staring at the two of them as though she had walked into the heart of a secret.
"I heard it," Deanna said breathlessly. "The call. And I felt this." Her gaze flicked between them, knowing, unsettled, certain all at once. "You're bound."