Chapter Thirty-Four

GREGORY WAS THE first to offer his condolences, long after Cesa and Asher had departed for the abyss. With his help, Yael, Kyrie, and the white witches gathered to create a burst of blooms around Cesa’s body. Intricate work and intense concentration were required, as each bloom was created and called forth from the ground by the white witches who chose to honour the leader of a circle coven.

While they worked, Rowan leaned his head on Storm’s shoulder. He watched the flowers bloom around his father’s body in peace. “You saved my father, saved magic, fulfilled the prophecy, and I was with you every step of the way. And still you don’t love me?” he teased, lifting his head to turn those twinkling eyes in his direction.

Storm laughed and brushed the tears from Rowan’s cheeks. Some were drying but new ones appeared at the care and respect given to his father by the other covens. “Be grateful I’m a cold-hearted ass or you wouldn’t be here for me to kiss,” he confessed, loving the sound of Rowan’s laughter right before Storm did as he’d promised and kissed him, “and learn to love.”

Watching the ceremony Cesa’s burial had become, they had a few minutes of grace to be together, breathe, and accept that their lives had changed. With Rowan beside him, Storm could handle whatever came next, but he hoped he wouldn’t have to. If the Fates were kind, they’d have time together where they could just be—boyfriends, friends, partners—whatever they wanted to be. Unlike their fathers, they had the whole of their lives to spend figuring out what that might be.

The night was peaceful, the wind calm, barely more than a breeze through the trees. There were whispers of peace, honour and comfort in the air, no doubt the wind reading the emotions of the gathered witches and responding to the general mood. The light rain when his dad appeared had lasted just a few seconds, welcoming Asher Tera back to the land of the living and clearing the way for a new beginning.

Storm decided he would ask the wind and rain to create a storm tonight, once everyone was inside and sleeping off the after-effects of the long day. The land would rejoice at having something to clear away the lingering bad omens that dark magic left behind, something to give the Copry land back to white magic.

*

ONCE CESA’S BURIAL was complete, his body encased in flowers and earth, the covens gathered for a final conference. They’d come here because of the draw of Storm’s magic and because the prophecy had demanded their participation.

With Rowan by his side, Storm faced the gathered covens. “The prophecy was clear—when the covens resort to chaos, I will bring you to heel—and I intend to,” he confessed, his voice much softer than the words required. “In a few days, I want us to meet at my dad’s house. The Tera manor will become a neutral area, where no one shall perform magic without my permission. Only demons who require magic to pass between here and the abyss will be granted blanket permission.”

Storm ignored Yael’s nod of thanks and Kyrie’s wry smile, because he felt that he owed the demons that allegiance, even without their friendship to inspire the decision. “Meet me in five days and we will discuss how to go forward into a future where we are equal, where magic will be used for good and where we can have equal say in how we protect our legacies,” he said, needing their cooperation and agreement to change how the covens functioned. Only together could they change how they treated demons, how they used magic, and reset the balance between Light and Dark magic.

“What about my grandmother?” Gregory asked with curiosity but no sign of anger.

Some looked shocked that he’d mentioned her, but Storm was glad Gregory wasn’t shying away from the reality of the Glade coven’s problems. “I can ask the demons to return her body, if you want?” he offered, but Gregory shook his head, and Storm realised the true meaning of his words. “I understand the threat, Gregory. I appreciate that you’re willing to face the potential fallout head-on. Yael will work with you to explore the magic within your coven and determine those your grandmother may have corrupted or used magic against. Traitors will be dealt with according to their crimes.” He was well aware that anyone who had worked with her would lie, but Yael would always find the truth, no matter how well hidden.

For the sake of the other covens, Storm clarified his meaning in the hope that no one would bother Gregory with questions. Gladys was still his grandmother, and he would still grieve her loss, even if she had brought him more trouble and responsibility than he’d been ready for. “Gladys has been using dark magic illegally. She may have taught others to do the same, so be kind to those who survive this night. They will need all the support they can get,” he warned, letting them know they shouldn’t judge anyone before Yael had made their assessment. Just as Cesa had been manipulated under their very noses, no one knew the extent of Ithen and Gladys’s corruption.

Storm looked around those gathered, pleased they were on board, and wished them goodnight. He was mentally and physically exhausted, and he wanted to go home, sleep, and start a new life.

Rowan walked beside him, while Yael made sure the witches and mages left peacefully. Kyrie paused by Cesa’s graveside to touch a bare patch of soil, where a white rose rooted through the dirt and bloom into the moonlight.

Storm slipped his hand into Rowan’s and led the way to the house, to their bed, and to sleep.

“If your house will be a no magic area,” Rowan spoke with curiosity and a playful smile, “where will you live? Because I’ve noticed you sometimes use magic in your sleep.” He flashed those flirty ice blue eyes at Storm, making his heart flutter at the teasing.

Resisting the urge to kiss him senseless—one that he would indulge in tomorrow—Storm gave a careless shrug. “After fulfilling a prophecy for you, saving your father, and resurrecting you, you won’t let me live in your house?” He gasped in mock shock and disappointment. His heart sang when Rowan burst into a fit of tired chuckles and a snort that made his day.

Rowan stopped walking and dragged him by his jumper into a long and deep kiss. He melted into the contact, taking a firm grip of Rowan’s hips to keep him close. When they broke away with matching smiles, Storm burst the bubble with rationality.

“While I love the idea of living with you, I think we have to find space for Yael. Once we bond, I doubt we’ll get rid of them,” he admitted, fully intending to bond within the next month. That would give them time to recover from recent events and time for Yael to adjust to being a higher demon, a revelation they would need to talk about tomorrow.

“Don’t worry. The four of us have to stick together,” Rowan agreed and took his hand in a firm grip to resume their walk. “I thought we could shock the white witch world with a scandal?”

“Such as?”

Rowan looked up with a smile. “I thought I’d bond with Kyrie, if he’ll have me.” He positively skipped up the front steps of the house, pulling Storm along like a kid who had been given the greatest gift in the world.

“We’ll have to be careful how we tell them. They might burst with excitement. Kyrie especially.” The demon was the most excitable person he knew, second only to Denver during a movie marathon.

“That could be messy.” Rowan laughed, carefree and unburdened despite all that had happened today. He’d lost his father, his life, and didn’t seem to care about either because he’d gotten them both back. Leading the way up the main stairs, Rowan’s pace suggested the last of his energy was waning. Storm offered magic through their connected hands to keep him moving long enough to get to their bed.

“We end the way we started, huh? The three of us together? With a new toy for Yael to obsess about?” he teased, the picture far sweeter than he’d imagined, and well beyond anything his lonely, bitter future self could have hoped for. Storm was no longer alone; he had Rowan and Yael back in his life, just as it should have been all these years and could be again. The addition of Kyrie, and he presumed Haven would be coming around more often, plus his rekindled and strengthened friendships with Foley and Denver, suggested the future was much brighter than he’d ever dreamed.

“Only, this time, we get our happily ever after.”

Storm snorted and pushed open the bedroom door. “You forget Yael is a demon who just put a fist through someone’s chest. Happily may be too much to ask, but I’m sure our lives will be interesting.”

Rowan turned at the last moment and froze, quirking an eyebrow at the bed, where they found Midnight lazily sprawled across the covers.

As the least weird sight of the day, Storm wasn’t surprised Rowan nudged the kitten aside and drew back the covers. He didn’t have the mental energy to deal with the fact Midnight had coughed up the amulet, stayed long enough to fuss over Rowan, and slipped away without anyone noticing, despite being left in Kyrie’s capable hands. How the cat got into a room and managed to shut the door behind her wasn’t something he wanted to dissect.

“Just don’t go dying on me again. I’m not sure I can resurrect you a second time,” Storm cautioned as he pulled off his jumper and T-shirt to toss into the corner. He’d worry about washing later though he had a feeling both he and Rowan would want to burn their clothes. Rowan had died in them, and Storm never wanted to see them again.

Rowan huffed as he struggled out of his T-shirt, crinkled his nose at the potent smell, and threw the offending garment across the room. “Are you doubting yourself again?” he asked, slipping off his jeans and crawling into bed beside Storm.

“No.” Storm turned onto his side and propped up with his elbow to stare at Rowan. “I just realised something terrifying,” he admitted, getting lost to the thought of what Rowan might think. Rowan cocked his head, curious but not rushing him, as he clasped Storm’s hand to his chest, his eyes drooping with fatigue. Storm bit his bottom lip and mentally processed the words. He wanted to be sure they were real this time, but he didn’t have to worry; he felt more sure of this than anything he’d ever felt. “I already love you more now than I did. Maybe I’ll love you more tomorrow than I do now. So…don’t go dying, okay?”

There would be no bringing him back a second time. Dark One, Necromancer, Prophecy Child; nothing Storm was or was capable of could resurrect someone he loved with his whole heart.

Rowan’s cheeks burned with a blush as he ducked his head to kiss Storm’s knuckles. “I promise.”