Though Christopher and I found nothing pointing to any magic or any Adept having set foot on the property — the snowfall made that oddly easy — the dream about the botched contract job in San Francisco continued to haunt me through the early morning. I didn’t like being haunted. So instead of simply lying there uselessly staring at the dark ceiling, I grabbed my iPad from my sitting room and climbed back into bed with it.
After finding me prowling the perimeter of the property and grumbling at me until I’d returned to the house, Paisley was now taking up the entire bottom half of my bed. I hadn’t argued with the demon dog. She hadn’t needed to bribe me with ginger snaps to bring me home.
Four emails occupied my inbox, but I ignored them in favor of composing a new message to my lawyer, Ember Pine. Ember worked for the law firm of Sherwood and Pine, based out of their Seattle office. All the associates, as far as I knew, were witches. Ember was particularly skilled in contract law, but she also drafted and held my will, and would oversee my estate should I die. She would make certain that Christopher and Paisley would be able to stay in Lake Cowichan if they chose to do so. The property taxes and other bills would all fall to her to oversee.
I had no doubt that any one of the other three would step forward to take my place — Fish, Bee, or Zans. But I wanted Christopher to have options, and to be able to stay in the home we were still in the process of building. Just as long as the blood bond we shared didn’t kill the others when I died. I certainly wasn’t in a rush to test that particular theory.
That I had first come to Ember with the expectation that something or someone would eventually kill me had been a bit off-putting for the lawyer witch. According to her, Adepts in their late twenties rarely took such extreme precautions. But she hadn’t questioned me beyond that.
Though the San Francisco contract had been broken by the sorcerers when they attempted to kidnap me — perhaps even kill me — the money that backed it, along with the damages clause that had seen to the care of the witch child, had been automatically paid out. The bulk of that contract, along with the four other jobs I’d previously done without incident, was the foundation of my estate, along with the property in Lake Cowichan that was in Christopher’s name as well as mine.
Beyond managing that estate and crafting the contracts for the jobs I’d taken on, Ember Pine had turned into a valuable resource. She supplied me with information when requested, occasionally sending unsolicited magical tomes when she found a text that she thought would complement my research into the transference of magic and magical bindings.
Before washing them off in the rest stop bathroom, I hadn’t taken the time to transcribe the runes that had been inked on my skin in the young witch’s blood. Nor had I tried to recall the runes that had anchored the pentagram itself, also fueled by her blood. But I was certain that I would know them, know the spell they represented, if I saw them detailed in the pages of a sorcerer spellbook.
And once I found that spell, I’d find the way to break it. Find the way I could have broken it without killing the child, without needing to be rescued by Christopher and Paisley.
Because one day, the clairvoyant wasn’t going to see clearly. Some tricky predator was going to block his sight, and I would die.
Hence the will and the estate.
But I wouldn’t die trapped in a blood-magic-fueled pentagram by some sorcerer wielding runes that could be countered with a little knowledge. That, I could control.
I started a new email, typing ‘Various questions’ into the subject line. Then I paused, thinking through the most concise way to ask about the witch girl, and to request information about Aiden’s visiting family members.
I settled on:
Ember —
For your eyes only.
I’m requesting any information you can obtain about the young witch who was extracted from the warehouse the evening the contract was broken in San Francisco (October 2017). Do you know of her whereabouts? Has anyone else enquired about her or about her connection to me?
The second part of the second question was probably unnecessary. Ember would have informed me the moment anyone contacted the law firm asking about an amplifier connected to anything, not just specifically the witch. And as for the first part, if Ember was officially the witch child’s lawyer, she might not actually be able to speak to me on specifics.
I’ve also recently been visited by Isa Azar and Ruwa (last name unknown), both of the Azar cabal. I am aware that Isa is the eldest son of Kadar Azar as well as Aiden Myers’s eldest brother. Ruwa is a cousin of Isa’s, though her mother was adopted. They share a grandfather. Would you please provide any other information you deem pertinent for both sorcerers?
Specifically, would you look into any connection either of them might have to the witch child?
Thank you in advance,
Emma.
I sent the email, taking the time to delete three of the four others sitting in my inbox unread — all from Karolyn Dunn. Karolyn was the recruiter who’d arranged the previous contracts I’d taken. I didn’t blame her for San Francisco in any way, but I also wasn’t interested in taking any more jobs. But someone, or multiple someones, had been persistently looking to hire an amplifier of power. I averaged about an email a week from Karolyn. Three was unusual.
I didn’t recognize the email address of the fourth message, so I tapped it open, scanning down to the signature.
Fish.
I hesitated, finger hovering over the Trash button. This was the fifth time that Fish — aka Daniel, aka Nul5 — had reached out electronically to me. He used a different email address, or at least he masked his main email address, each time he wrote. I had deleted the first four such messages unread, knowing that the nullifier was also in contact with Christopher. If there was anything we needed to know, any danger heading our way, Fish would tell Knox, not me.
I just didn’t want to read yet another appeal to reunite the Five. Fish was volatile in person — mostly because I deliberately set him off. But I had no doubt he’d be persuasive in written form.
And honestly, the dream had left me feeling vulnerable. Everything about the botched contract in San Francisco put me on edge, made me question the decisions I’d made leading up to that job. The ease with which someone had invaded my mind, pulling forth that memory in the form of a dream, then leaving no trace of their presence behind bothered me. Worried me, even. And worrying wasn’t a comfortable state of being for me. At some point, I would start alleviating my concerns, and bodies would start hitting the ground.
Because the best way to stop an attack was to cut it off before it had even begun.
That was Amp5’s decision-making process.
If we had still been the Five, San Francisco never would have happened. If we were the Five, the entire property would have been shielded from magical attack, courtesy of Fish’s power. Against the Five, two unknown sorcerers would never have had the courage to pull up our driveway, let alone knock on the door.
If we were the Five, Bee would have picked up on the psychic assault from the previous night, shredding the mind of any Adept who dared to walk through any of our dreams.
But …
If we were the Five, we wouldn’t have settled on a property in a small Canadian town in the first place. We wouldn’t have been slowly forming friendships with the locals.
And there would be no Aiden in my life. No confused emotions or churning need. No desire. No letters or thoughtful gifts. No whispers of something that might be love. Chosen love — chemically triggered or otherwise. But not just a bond that had been foisted upon me, tattooed under my skin.
A box announcing a new email flashed at the top of my screen. I’d never seen the program do that before. But then, I rarely emailed, then sat with the iPad open for any length of time. Somewhat glad to have an excuse to ignore Fish’s message a little longer, I clicked on the new email, opening Ember’s dashed-off reply. The witch lawyer was working before dawn.
The child’s name is Opal. Born January 27, 2006.
I blinked at the date, mentally calculating that the child who haunted my dreams was actually thirteen, not the nine-year-old I’d seen in my head.
No surname that I was able to verify, nor was her birth registered with the Convocation. Parents/extended family also unknown (obviously). I placed her, with the Convocation’s blessing, with my cousin Capri Pine, whose family is based just outside Seattle. Opal ran away three times in the first six months, but passed the entry exam for the Academy with a high ranking last summer, and has been attending full time since September 2018. Last we spoke, about a month ago, Capri feels the focus has been good for Opal. She’s excelling. I believe there has been talk of a specialization, which is unusual for a first year.
I’ve sent an email to Capri and will send you a more updated report later on today or tomorrow.
The Academy. I didn’t know much about the Academy aside from its name and its existence. Part boarding school, part magical training center — and a part of the Adept world that the Collective had been set up to oppose.
As for Isa Azar, I will write up an inquiry to a representative of the sorcerers League after I send this email to you. You currently have more information than I can offer without further investigation. The name Ruwa is unusual enough that I will attempt to source information for her as well, including the request into the League.
That was as expected. Apparently, outside of the confines of the Collective, witches and sorcerers rarely mixed. Unless the sorcerer needed a lawyer, of course.
Emma — on a personal note, I advise you to be cautious when interacting with any of the Azar cabal. After you informed me that Aiden Myers was actually a sorcerer of the Azar bloodline, I gave you what information I could source on him personally, then continued my investigations into the background of his familial lines, just in case you wanted to follow up. The Myers witch reputation is stellar among the Adept, as I’d mentioned. It has been centuries since a black witch has cropped up through their bloodline, as far as what has been documented through the Convocation and the law firm’s records. The same cannot be said for any of the other major witch bloodlines, excepting the Godfreys.
But while I uncovered very little concrete intelligence about the Azars, the speculation and rumors are dark. Deeply so. Granted, witches are known for categorizing all sorcerers as uniformly dark. A sorcerer’s fundamental need to source and build their magic through the accumulation of artifacts and spells is completely at odds with how a witch draws her power, hence the built-in prejudice.
None of Ember’s misgivings about the Azars was news to me, of course. But the fact that she was willing to reach out to a member of the sorcerers League indicated just how concerned the witch lawyer was. The Adept weren’t known for sharing information between species. And as far as I knew, the League held none of the power that the witches Convocation or the shapeshifter Assembly wielded over those under the authority of those bodies.
And now that I’ve told you nothing you likely hadn’t already known, I shall endeavor to source some useful information.
Ember Pine.
I laughed quietly. We rarely communicated in person, or even over the phone, but I had long felt that the witch lawyer had known everything there was to know about me — Emma Johnson, not Amp5 — from our first conversation. She might not look up from her notepad all that often, but she was exceedingly bright.
I read Ember’s email a second time, then turned off my iPad, leaving Fish’s email unread but not deleted. Then I wandered down to breakfast to distill what I’d learned for Christopher.
I made ginger snaps, baking the entire batch instead of rolling and freezing two-thirds of the dough.
It snowed.
I cleaned. All three bathrooms, changing the sheets on all the beds, vacuuming and mopping all the floors.
It continued to snow.
Christopher cleared the front walk, started a fire, then went to check on the eggs still waiting to hatch in the incubator.
I followed him out to the barn, pulling a large steak out of the barn fridge and practically forcing Paisley to eat it. We had relocated the older-model fridge to the barn after it was pulled out of the kitchen during the renovation. The demon dog was obsessing over watching the chicks hatch, though Christopher thought they still had three or more days to go.
Then I scoured the suite in the loft of the barn, making up the bed and adding a heavier jacket, thick socks, and an extra pair of boots to the clothing already hanging in the closet.
It was still snowing.
I turned on the baseboard heater in the main room of the suite, then in the bathroom. I double-checked that there was still shampoo and soap in the shower.
Christopher wordlessly appeared in the doorway of the suite as I stepped from the bathroom. The magic ringing the clairvoyant’s eyes silently informed me that I was triggering him.
“Going to make him sleep in here, are you?” he asked.
I didn’t answer.
The lights flickered suddenly.
We paused, waiting. They settled, still on.
Christopher grimaced. “I’ve set up the smaller generator for the incubator. Even an hour without power could ruin the entire hatch.”
Lani had mentioned — multiple times while driving me home — that we should expect the power to go out if the snow started weighing down tree branches, or if the wind picked up.
I turned off the lights, grabbing my bucket of cleaning supplies and stepping past Christopher, who was still lounging against the doorframe. “I should check the mail.”
“It won’t have been delivered today. Not with the snow.”
I glanced back at Christopher. “Not that kind of mail.”
“Ah. I’ll walk with you.” He trailed behind me down the interior stairs.
“The sorcerers wouldn’t be stupid enough to attack me on my own property.”
“They showed up on our doorstep yesterday without a hint of concern.”
I laughed quietly. “Not to worry. Isa Azar was far more on edge when he left than when he arrived.”
Christopher snorted. “You do have that effect on people, Socks.”
“I think it might have been you this time.”
He chuckled.
I dropped my cleaning bucket at the back door, stepping over to touch Paisley on the top of her broad head. She was sitting with her eyes directly in line with the incubator set on the wooden workbench that spanned the western wall of the barn under the loft.
“Want to walk to the mailbox with me?” I asked the demon dog. I really needed to have a conversation with her about tracking the sorcerers to the hotel the previous day, but I wasn’t certain what to say. We three protected each other, so it was hard to ask her to go against her instincts. I was just slightly concerned that she’d left the property out of boredom. Because a bored demon dog was bound to draw attention we really didn’t need.
Paisley pressed her nose to the palm of my hand, then straightened, giving a full-body shake. Her mane of tentacles shook loose, crackling with energy all around her head, neck, and shoulders.
Christopher flashed me a grin. “I’ll keep watch here.”
A sealed envelope sat in the snow-covered mailbox. The name Aiden Myers was scrawled across the thick cream paper. The black-inked lettering glinted with magic, but I couldn’t feel anything malicious embedded in the missive.
Paisley snatched the envelope from me with a flick of her tentacles, folding it into her mane. Then she hightailed it back to the barn.
Apparently, she was Aiden’s official courier.
I sighed, opened the front gates so Aiden wouldn’t need to, then trudged back through the thick layer of snow that had accumulated on the drive. It was up to my lower calves now.
The fact that I could see magic glinting from what I assumed was Isa Azar’s handwriting gave extra credence to Ember Pine’s caution about the sorcerer. I rarely saw residual magic. I could feel spells as they were being used against me, and powerful artifacts, of course. Even dormant magic if it resided in a person, as with Lani. But it took a powerful magic user to leave a trace of energy that I could pick up visually without effort.
It was almost teatime. I was restless. It was still snowing. The wind had picked up, blowing snow from the roof of the house and the barn in huge white sheets that blotted out my view of the driveway.
I had pored over three of the five spellbooks that I hadn’t had a chance to look at in detail yet — all sent by Ember and Aiden. Scouring their pages for anything that resembled the runes that the dream invasion had kept at the forefront of my mind all day. Runes that had been inked on my cheeks and forehead in the young witch’s blood. Opal.
Christopher wandered in with his arms full of wood, actually bringing a chill with him. He knelt down, organizing the wood to the side of the blazing fireplace.
I flipped all the books arrayed on the coffee table closed. One at a time. Slap. Slap. Slap.
Christopher threw himself onto the couch across from me. “Was there mail?”
“Yes. Addressed to Aiden. Paisley has it.”
He laughed. “It’s a game now.”
I nodded. Paisley had also absconded with the first package that had arrived addressed to Aiden. A package containing one of the sorcerer’s rings. The other rings, stolen by Silver Pine, decorated the platinum chain I’d seen slung around his brother’s neck.
“He’ll make it,” Christopher murmured.
“It’s a lot of snow.”
“What is that to a sorcerer who has an excuse to return to you?”
“I’m more than just my magic.”
“Don’t be spiky.” Christopher grinned as he quoted from my favorite TV show, Downton Abbey. “My point exactly.”
“Why would he need an excuse to return?”
The clairvoyant shifted forward, reaching for my notepad on the coffee table and spinning it toward him. He inspected the runes I’d translated there. “Because he hasn’t fulfilled his end of the bargain.”
“What bargain?”
“Whatever bargain he struck with you when he left.” He paused, lifting his light-gray eyes to me, giving me space to respond.
I didn’t. My conversations with Aiden were private.
Christopher tapped the sketches I’d been awkwardly fiddling with all afternoon. Working with runes wasn’t an ingrained talent or an easily learned discipline for me. Drawing was even less so. The sketches were my feeble attempt to document the runes that had been marked on my forehead and cheeks. “From San Francisco?”
“Yes.”
Christopher squinted at the shaded penciled lines. His magic expanded, then contracted. “These aren’t quite right.”
“I remember them clearly.”
“When did you see them? In the bathroom at the rest stop? Hours after they were initially inked.”
“Ah. Damn it.” I suddenly felt like an idiot.
I’d been researching the runes for months, specifically looking for the spell that had allowed the sorcerers to siphon my magic in San Francisco. But as Christopher pointed out, I was assuming that the magic within the runes hadn’t been burned away or smudged. That magic might have flaked off my skin between the runes being inked, the spell being cast, and me slaughtering anyone who’d still stood before me. I’d only seen them hours later, reflected back at me in the mirror as I washed them off in an ill-lit bathroom on the edge of the highway.
“And those were just the secondary attachments,” Christopher said. “The pentagram itself was anchored with a rune at each point.”
“I figured if I found a match, I’d find the entire spell.”
He slumped back on the couch. “Why not just ask me? I’ve asked you what you’ve been working on multiple times.” He indicated all the spellbooks with a wave of his hand.
“I’ve been researching magical transference, and now binding spells in general.”
“As you’ve said.”
“Don’t be an asshole,” I said. “I’m not shutting you out. The dream last night just brought it up. Again.”
“Again,” Christopher echoed, almost mockingly.
I leveled a look at him. “I’m not playing games with you.”
“Just because a person wants to have a conversation with you, Emma — a back-and-forth dialogue — doesn’t mean they’re playing games.”
Keeping my gaze on him steady, I neatly piled my books and notes together.
Christopher scrubbed his hands over his mouth, massaging his jaw. “I’m sorry. Your magic is erratic today —”
“Don’t blame me for your shortcomings.”
“Christ, Emma. I was apologizing for needling you.”
“Do it better.”
He sighed heavily. “You are a difficult taskmaster.”
“According to Fish, I don’t push you hard enough.”
He grunted noncommittally, unwilling to enter into a conversation about the nullifier. Which was the right choice, every time. I never brought Daniel up unless I was looking for a fight.
“We should have sparred today,” I said, easing away from the tension I’d been allowing to build between us.
Christopher let out his breath. “In the snow?”
“It would have been good practice.”
“For what? Planning to invade the Arctic?”
“It’s always good to be prepared.”
He sat forward, smiling in a teasing fashion. “I just watched you clean a house I cleaned two days ago, Socks. Sparring in the snow with you might have gotten me killed.”
“Please. You —”
I was cut short by the sight of magic flickering in Christopher’s eyes. His grin widened, his tone turning remote. “What did I tell you, amplifier?”
“Which time?” I asked caustically.
“About a little snow never getting in Aiden Azar Myers’s way.”
I was off the couch and down the hall before I’d made the decision to move. Yes, as idiotic as it was, I wanted to lay eyes on Aiden the moment he was within my line of sight. All I’d had to soothe that desire — for five months — were carefully chosen words on paper. Now I wanted the sorcerer himself.
I flung open the front door, letting in a gust of chilly wind and snow that reminded me I was barefoot and without a coat. Heedless, I peered through the falling snow that was doing its best to engulf the property.
A dark-burgundy, hulking SUV rolled through the gate I’d left open at the far end of the driveway, then paused just beyond.
The driver’s door swung open and a dark-suited, dark-haired man stepped out, crossing out of my sight as he moved to close the gate. The hatch on the back of the vehicle lifted, then the sorcerer stepped over to the gatepost, standing with his back to me and holding a rune-carved baseball bat loosely in his left hand. Dark-blue magic was etched through each rune, standing out starkly against the snow.
The sorcerer laid his hand on the gate, over the rune he’d carved into the post five months before. I couldn’t hear him speak, but he tilted his head as if murmuring an incantation. Magic stirred around his hand, flaring through the runes in the bat as he drew power from the artifact. A rune carved into the fence post on either side of the gate began to glow. Then another set of runes on the next posts were activated, then the next.
Aiden was erecting the perimeter ward line he’d laid the foundation for last fall, but hadn’t had the power to ignite.
Christopher settled my jacket over my shoulders and set my lined boots next to me. I slipped my feet into the too-large boots without taking my gaze from the sorcerer at my gate.
Snowflakes were getting caught in his dark hair, sprinkling over the shoulders and arms of his suit as he pumped more and more power into the perimeter line.
“Impressive,” Christopher murmured, pulling on his own jacket and clicking the door shut behind us.
I was acting idiotically, standing on the porch when I could simply be waiting by the warmth of the fire in the front sitting room. But the clairvoyant didn’t tease me as he waited by my side.
The dark-haired sorcerer stepped back from the gate, finally turning toward the house, toward me. He swept his gaze across the snow-covered property, settling the bat over his shoulder. It had been drained of the bulk of its power but still glowed softly, matching the magic simmering in the sorcerer’s striking blue eyes.
Aiden Myers.
A slow, satisfied smile spread over his face. And I would have sworn that his shoulders, his entire demeanor, relaxed as he settled his gaze on me.
My lips curled involuntarily into an answering smile.
Aiden sauntered back to the SUV, climbed in, and continued down the driveway. There were heavy chains on the wheels and no rental stickers.
“Think he bought the vehicle on his way here?” Christopher murmured. “What do you bet there’s a shovel and bags of salt in the back hatch? The sorcerer was prepared for the snow.”
I didn’t answer.
Aiden parked beside the barn, then stepped out, retrieving his bat and a bag from the back seat.
Something heavy slammed onto the top of the SUV. A viciously snarling creature the size of a lion appeared on the roof of the vehicle. Glowing red eyes. Sharp, double-rowed teeth. A mane of tentacles sparking with dark, seething magic.
Paisley.
Aiden stilled, slowly pivoting to eye the demon dog.
She curled paws the size of dinner plates over the edge of the vehicle. The SUV listed to the right as she flattened her head and flicked her forked blue tongue toward the sorcerer.
He started to laugh. The warm sound cut through the snow to flood my chest, then trickle down to my lower stomach. And just for a moment, I allowed that whisper of desire to heat me from within, savoring it as I watched Paisley chortle along with Aiden.
The demon dog leaped off the SUV, landing next to the sorcerer, who reached through her mane of tentacles and patted her firmly on the shoulder.
Paisley gazed up at Aiden, huffing happily. Then she crossed toward the house, magic flooding over her as she tucked the tentacles away and shrank down to her large pit bull aspect.
She wasn’t allowed in the house when she was the size of a lion. She crushed the furniture and damaged the fir flooring with her claws. Deliberately, I thought.
Aiden followed in Paisley’s wake.
“Did she drop from the barn roof?” Christopher asked, hushed. “Or just appear?”
“Appeared, I think,” I whispered back. “If she’d dropped, her momentum would have flattened the SUV.”
Christopher hummed thoughtfully but dropped the subject — specifically, the fact that Paisley’s magic had sharpened and strengthened since I’d brought her back from the edge of death last September. Strengthened permanently, it seemed. Previously, she’d shown an ability to travel through shadows, possibly stepping into the demon dimension as she did so. But despite the snowstorm, it was still full daylight, so there weren’t any shadows she could have slipped through in order to appear on top of Aiden’s vehicle.
The demon dog prowled up the front patio stairs, making a show of shaking off the snow that had accumulated on her dark-blue coat.
Aiden paused at the base of the stairs, settling his gaze on me as if he never wanted to look anywhere else.
I didn’t look away either. “Aiden.”
“Emma.” He smiled up at me, my name coming out in a satisfied sigh.
“You’re in time for tea.”
“Ah, good. I was hoping I would be.” He transferred the bat into the hand he was holding the bag with, then stepped up, already reaching toward Christopher.
The sorcerer and the clairvoyant clasped arms.
“My friend,” Christopher murmured. “We’ve missed you.”
“Not as much as I’ve missed being here with you.”
Paisley bumped her head into the side of Aiden’s thigh. He stumbled, held upright by Christopher. They laughed.
My heart … expanded.
Inexplicably.
Painfully.
I turned, reaching for the handle of the front door and stepping away from the conversation, stepping away from my intense reaction to the sorcerer’s return.
“I picked up those rose bushes for you on my way through London,” Aiden said.
“Ah, yes. Thank you. Any trouble getting them through customs?”
“Nothing a junior sorcerer wouldn’t have been able to take care of.”
Christopher chuckled.
I pulled off my boots, carrying them with me down the hall. I glanced back before I stepped into the kitchen.
Aiden was gazing at me from the patio. His expression was neutral, but the blue of his eyes was soul searing.
I looked away, stepping through the kitchen to tuck my boots and jacket into the laundry room.
Soul-searing eyes. That was an absurd thought. Despite the letters and the gifts, the sorcerer had only returned because his brother was in town looking for him. Not because he wanted to see me. That thought, that rationale, cooled whatever emotion had tried to get hold of my heart on the patio. Whatever emotion had stirred at the sight of the three people I most …
I most what?
Cared for?
Loved?
Christopher stepped into the laundry room, brushing his shoulder against me as he hung his jacket on the wooden peg next to mine. “All right there, Fox in Socks?”
I nodded stiffly.
“Aiden’s just dropping his bag in the loft. And probably changing. You know sorcerers. He wouldn’t want to ruin those pretty shoes.”
Christopher was teasing, being playful. But I couldn’t find it in myself to smile.
“Socks,” he murmured.
I shook my head, stepping back out of the laundry room and into the kitchen to put on the kettle. Both the sorcerer and Paisley had exited the house. I couldn’t feel their magic, and I wasn’t going to actively seek it.
I moved through the soothing motions of making tea, including opening the red-and-black tin that held the orchid oolong and inhaling deeply.
Christopher settled on a stool on the opposite side of the kitchen island, pulling out his oracle cards and shuffling them absentmindedly.
I plated ginger snaps, setting the teapot, plates, and mugs on a tray. I added napkins just as the kettle boiled.
I poured the hot water over the oolong in the strainer set in the teapot. Christopher leaned forward, smelling it with a slight smile. I placed the lid on the pot, turning back to set the timer for five minutes. Then I pulled the milk out of the fridge and poured some into the stoneware creamer, adding three teaspoons to the collection of dishes on the tray.
“Evoking the perimeter line didn’t even wind him,” Christopher said. “Didn’t even fully drain the bat.”
“No.”
“You knew he was that powerful.”
“He wouldn’t have carved the runes in the first place if he wasn’t.”
Christopher laughed quietly. “The runes made sense. It took him days, maybe even a week, to set them all in place. Few sorcerers could trigger the entire ward with one casting.”
“Maybe it’s just the front section of fencing, along the road.”
“It isn’t.”
“What’s your point?”
Christopher shrugged, his gaze on the cards he was shuffling. “Just you. You’re worried he isn’t strong enough to survive loving you.”
“He chose to leave, Christopher.”
“And you let him go. And haven’t asked him back.”
“He’s back,” I snapped.
“He took the first opportunity you gave him to return.”
I didn’t answer.
“Am I wrong?”
Again, I didn’t answer. Christopher leaned against the counter, sighing quietly in the long silence that settled between us.
The timer went off. I pulled the strainer from the teapot, set it to the side, then stepped back to turn off the timer.
Aiden stepped up on the back patio, instantly snagging my gaze through the French-paned doors. He had changed into jeans tucked into the boots I’d left for him. A navy-blue sweater made the blue of his eyes more pronounced, though the magic he’d been previously wielding had faded.
The sorcerer stepped through the back door into the laundry room.
I blinked as if clearing my sight.
Christopher was staring at me. “Maybe it’s more that you think you aren’t capable? You think the Collective made you a monster, unable to —”
“I know what the Collective made me.” I picked up the tray, turning away from the conversation the clairvoyant was forcing upon me as Aiden stepped into the kitchen.
My heart rate picked up. Ignoring it, I crossed through the dining room toward the front sitting room. I felt oddly pleased that the ritual of afternoon tea would allow me to be in the same room as the sorcerer without dissolving into … whatever the hell was going on with me. My visceral reaction to his return.
I poured myself a second mug of oolong, curling my legs under me on the couch, then simply allowing myself to sip my tea and watch the sorcerer seated across from me. His hair was slightly longer than before he’d left, starting to curl over his ears. He’d gained back the weight he lost when he was drained of his magic by the black witch Silver Pine. It looked good on him. He appeared strong, healthy, relaxed, with one arm settled along the back of the couch as he maintained a murmur of conversation with Christopher — chatting about the weather and the garden and the chicks the clairvoyant was hatching.
The snow fell in thick flakes beyond the windows behind the sorcerer, but the room was pleasantly warm from the crackling fire.
“Emma?” Christopher asked. His tone suggested he had already called my name, more than once.
“Yes?”
“Shall I top the teapot?”
“Oh? Aiden?”
“Yes. Thank you.” Aiden raised his mug slightly, then leaned forward to pluck a ginger snap from the plate on the tray. His skin was deeply, evenly tanned. He was still wearing the copper rings that he had shaped and carved while he was recovering — but not the platinum band Silver Pine had stripped from him and then tauntingly returned. The eight rune-carved copper rings glinted with magic on each of his long, dexterous fingers. He was a sorcerer, after all.
Such hands would be extremely expressive in many different situations. I smiled into my mug at the thought.
Christopher lifted the plate of cookies from the tray, setting it onto the coffee table. Then he picked up the tray with the empty teapot and exited back toward the kitchen.
Aiden tracked him, then settled his gaze on me with a twist of a smile. “I’m sorry if I’m intruding.”
“You aren’t.”
He nodded, then set his mug down on the side table. He scrubbed a hand across his face as if he was weary. “Tell me of my brother.”
“He’s wearing your rings on a chain around his neck.”
Aiden stilled, then shook his head. His disbelief faded into a grim realization. “Silver Pine.”
“I believe so.”
The sorcerer laughed harshly then leaned back, gazing up at the ceiling. “So much makes sense.”
“Almost eight years ago, I rescued your father from a pack of shapeshifters. The Five … of us.” I stumbled over actually giving voice to my past, acknowledging it out loud. Aiden and I had slowly been sharing parts of our lives with each other, and I had mentioned the Five. Not in detail, of course. But in connection to Daniel, whom Aiden had met. “I got your father into the evacuation vehicle, but we were hit hard.”
“Silver’s greater demon.”
“Yes. But before that, she … at least I believe it was her … she compromised Christopher and Bee. Amanda.”
Aiden’s gaze sharpened. “The telepath?”
I nodded. Then for another brief moment, I struggled to fight through the feeling of being exposed, of being raw. Aiden wasn’t a stranger. He wasn’t connected to the Collective, nor was he going to use any information he might gather from me against me — or against the Five.
“Powerful witch,” Aiden murmured, filling the awkward pause. “Even then.”
“Or one who knew us well enough to prepare a strike against us.”
“Except she couldn’t get past you.”
“Oh, she got past me,” I said wryly. “I thought at the time that I’d gotten caught up in an internal schism.”
“A schism in the Collective.”
I met his gaze. “Yes.”
“And now? You think Isa was involved.”
“I don’t think Silver Pine could have compromised your father so thoroughly without an insider.”
Aiden rubbed his thumb and fingers together thoughtfully. His magic stirred, then settled back into its regular hum. “So … the question is … does my father know?”
I sipped my cooling tea, debating whether to mention the idea, the notion that I’d been forming since my conversation with Isa.
One side of Aiden’s mouth curled into a smile. “Yes?”
I shook my head. “It’s just a conjecture.”
“I imagine your conjecture could practically be taken as fact, Emma.”
“I don’t want to confuse the situation with suppositions.”
“The situation really couldn’t get any more muddy.”
I sighed, forcing myself to share my thoughts without worrying that they were flawed. “When you tried to usurp your brother, did you do so with your father’s permission?”
Aiden’s expression blanked, as it did whenever he was assessing a situation. “Damn it.”
“Is that a yes?”
“Damn it. Yes. Not expressly, but … and then he banished me, which was … confusing.”
“When you wouldn’t kill Isa.”
Christopher wandered into the room, setting the tray and the teapot on the coffee table. “Well, this is an interesting conversation.”
Aiden laughed harshly.
Christopher topped up my tea, then filled Aiden’s mug.
Aiden shook his head and laughed a second time. The sound, the expression of emotion, was more pained than amused. “The asshole knew.”
“Apparently,” Christopher said drily, settling back on his seat.
I checked his eyes for magic, seeing none. The clairvoyant smiled at me, sipping tea that I knew would have been too hot for me to consume. He liked his hot beverages practically boiling.
I turned my attention to Aiden. He was rubbing one thumb over the copper ring on his forefinger. “That’s not all,” I said.
“I didn’t imagine it was,” Aiden growled.
“Your brother didn’t come alone.”
Aiden frowned.
“Ruwa.”
“Gorgeous,” Christopher drawled, reaching for a ginger snap. “If you like that type.”
“Lani said the same thing,” I said, watching Aiden’s reaction.
The sorcerer’s expression had blanked — again — at the mention of Ruwa’s name.
“I’m not surprised.” Christopher took a bite of his cookie, chewing while he also watched the sorcerer.
Aiden grimaced, baring his teeth.
“Did you think she was dead?” I asked, not quite sure what the sorcerer was thinking or feeling.
“I did.”
Christopher glanced at me, then back at Aiden.
“Does that change things?” I asked. “Between you and your brother?”
“No.” Aiden pinned his gaze to me. “And not between us either.”
A warmth that had nothing to do with the fireplace bloomed across my chest. “I didn’t think it did.”
“Should I leave the room?” Christopher asked teasingly.
Then his magic welled up so suddenly that it blotted out his eyes.
Christopher sloshed his tea, hissing as he burned himself. Aiden plucked the mug out of his hands as the clairvoyant struggled to relax into whatever he was seeing, whatever his magic was showing him.
I waited, keeping my own mind as quiet as possible so as to not inadvertently influence the future unfolding in Christopher’s mind. We were tied so tightly through the blood tattoos drilled into our spines that I could shift the future unintentionally even without actively amplifying his power.
We had used that bond to our advantage when we rescued Hannah Stewart from the forest, but Christopher had paid the price. Allowing magic to have its way — as the clairvoyant would say, personifying magic and mixing it up with the notions of fate and destiny at the same time — was always the most prudent course. And the most efficient.
“Isa Azar,” Christopher murmured. “Looking for Aiden.”
I glanced at Aiden, tipping my chin to indicate that he could question the clairvoyant, but not speaking out loud so I didn’t pull the focus my way.
“I hear you, oh clairvoyant,” Aiden said, gently setting Christopher’s mug at the end of the coffee table.
Christopher settled his hands on his knees, inhaling deeply. “Snow. More snow. Difficult to get a sense of time and place. Ah … the farm stand.” He blinked rapidly, his magic compressed into tight rings around his irises. Then he tilted his head, regarding Aiden. “Do you plan to stay clean shaven?”
Aiden huffed a breathy laugh. “I hope not. I’m pleased to be here …” He glanced at me. “For as long as I’m welcome. And I find that I’m perfectly happy without the suit and everything it implies. Expectations … a way of life.”
Christopher grunted, nodding. “Then your brother is waiting for you at the gate.”
Aiden’s gaze snapped to Christopher. “Now?”
“If not, then soon.”
“The ward you ignited?” I asked. “It’s drawn his attention?”
Aiden shook his head. “A simple perimeter spell. A warning more than a barrier.”
“But Isa is sensitive to magic?” I asked, already knowing the answer. Isa Azar picked up magic easily.
Aiden sighed. “It’s possible he felt the casting, yes.”
“You were trained by the same masters?” Christopher said. “If so, fighting your brother will be like fighting yourself.”
“We were, but …” Aiden’s gaze swept over me. “I’ve leveled up since we last faced each other. Multiple times.”
“So has he,” I said. “And he is the elder. By a decade?”
The sorcerer nodded, though Isa Azar’s magical prowess obviously wasn’t news to him. For most Adepts, magic triggered around puberty, growing steadily in strength throughout their lives. Unless a large-scale event occurred, such as coming back from near death. Or — in the case of the Five — being drained by a protocol that could potentially destroy the center of a small city.
The protocol that was me.
I hadn’t mentioned that protocol, that incident, to Aiden yet. And honestly, I hoped I would never have to do so. No one sane wanted to know that their potential lover could do what I could do under a specific set of circumstances.
Aiden was frowning slightly, watching me.
I had inadvertently dropped the conversation. The sorcerer had once told me that all my light drained away when I allowed my past to occupy my thoughts. I hadn’t really understood what he meant, but he was looking at me in the same way now as he had been when he said it.
Christopher reached for his mug of tea. His eyes were still a lighter shade of gray, as if his magic was lingering. The glimpse of the future might not be cemented. That did occasionally happen, though when it did, it was usually due to some action I took.
“Your brother?” Christopher asked Aiden. “Will you go out to talk to Isa?”
Aiden curled his fingers into a fist, dark-blue magic running over and through the runes carved into his copper rings. “Talk? No. The next time we meet one-on-one will mean the death of one of us.” He lifted his gaze to me. “And I quite suddenly find I don’t wish to die.”
“Found something to live for, sorcerer?” Christopher whispered, a brush of his magic sprinkled through his words.
Aiden grinned. “You already know the answer to that, clairvoyant.”
Christopher laughed. “I do.”
They both glanced at me. I wasn’t completely following the conversation, but I couldn’t bring myself to demand clarification. Especially when a sorcerer was apparently about to be hanging around my gate and farm stand. “I’ll step out, then.”
“Isa won’t cross the perimeter spell,” Aiden said confidently. “He’s just here to verify my presence. He isn’t stupid enough to attack the house of two Adepts as powerful as you. He would definitely see you as assets.” His gaze became suddenly weighted, but with what, I didn’t know. “Worth the effort of wooing.”
“As you are wooing us?” I asked, my tone thankfully neutral.
“It could certainly be perceived that way.”
Christopher settled back in his chair. “As a game, you mean? Isa might view us as assets to be wooed away from his brother?”
“Indeed,” Aiden said smugly. “And even more so if Ruwa is involved.”
“She was dismissive,” I said. “Then Isa made her wait in the vehicle.”
Aiden frowned. “Made?”
“They’re magically bound. She obeys him.”
He huffed a laugh. “Of course they are. Saved her own neck. Smart. Devious. As expected. As is her dismissal of you. Calculated.”
“To confuse me?”
Aiden inclined his head.
“I don’t play games.”
A smile spread slowly over the dark-haired sorcerer’s face. “I know you don’t.”
Paisley padded into the sitting room, bumping the back of Christopher’s chair as she passed. She was carrying a large bone sideways in her mouth. It looked like a femur. Bleached white, scoured of muscle and tissue. And possibly human.
Paisley paused before Aiden, blinking her red-hued eyes at him.
Inexplicably, he started to laugh.
Christopher glanced at me. “Most people would find a demon dog gnawing on a bone disconcerting.”
“I’m already trying to figure out which neighbor she slaughtered,” I said. “And if we’re about to be run out of town.”
Aiden’s laughter faded. “Been going through my bag, have you?” he asked Paisley.
Three tentacles snapped out from her mane. Two grabbed the bone, holding it over the demon dog’s head. The third held the envelope addressed to Aiden that she’d stolen from me at the mailbox.
“You carry around human remains, sorcerer?” Christopher asked, amused. “No wonder you needed magic to get through customs.”
Aiden laughed. “It’s bovine. Sourced from a witch skilled in herbology. In India.”
“Cows are sacred in India,” I said, peering at the bone and trying to see if it was coated in magic.
“In some areas, yes.” Paisley flicked the envelope in Aiden’s face, and he took it without looking at it. “The witch attested that this particular bull lived for over a hundred years. The primogenitor of her small herd.”
“Magical.”
He nodded. Then his gaze dropped to the envelope, and his grin slid from his face. He glanced at Paisley. “Did this just arrive?”
She shoved the bone back into her mouth, ignoring Aiden as her tentacles disappeared and she settled down to chew on the femur with a single-minded intensity.
“Earlier,” I said. “Paisley took possession.”
Aiden hummed thoughtfully, running his fingers across the edges of the envelope. “Isa.”
“Spelled?”
“He’ll know when I open it. And I assume the text will appear only to me. He likes to embed a bit of flash in his magical missives.”
Christopher suddenly leaned forward, snagging the sorcerer’s wrist so swiftly that I doubted whether Aiden saw him move. The sorcerer’s magic spiked, but he held still within the clairvoyant’s grasp.
“The bone,” Christopher barked.
“A gift,” Aiden said. His tone was casual, though he held himself tensely. “For one who consumes magic.”
Silence fell between us. It was quiet enough that I realized my heart was beating quicker than normal. Even Paisley had paused her chewing, blinking up at Christopher.
“Feeding magic to a demon isn’t to be done lightly, sorcerer,” Christopher whispered, aggression laced through his words. “You have no idea what the consumption will provoke.”
“I do nothing lightly when it comes to Emma, you, or Paisley. I brought it because the witch suggested the bone would provide extra fortification to a blood ward. As well as strengthening the breed lines of any livestock on the land on which it’s buried. But if Paisley wishes to claim it, I have no objection.”
“A ward,” I said, carefully keeping my tone steady and even. “Like the one you want to place around the property.”
Aiden nodded stiffly, but he didn’t take his gaze from Christopher. “Yes. Two hectares is … a stretch. Needing months, years of fortification. Any boost would be welcomed. Assuming Paisley doesn’t consume the bone.”
“You might have tamed Fox in Socks, sorcerer.” Christopher’s tone remained grim. “An impossible feat, some would have said.”
“But you see through me?” Aiden asked coolly.
“If there is anything to see. Yes. I will.”
“There isn’t anything to see. Nothing nefarious lies underneath. I am here in truth, hoping that it’s fate that led me this way. And I am acting accordingly.”
Tension stretched between the two men.
My jaw started aching.
“I don’t believe I’ve tamed Emma at all, clairvoyant.” Aiden spoke again quietly, though his tone was strong, stiff. “I don’t believe she needed taming.”
Christopher didn’t respond to the sorcerer’s subtle correction. I could feel the tension rolling from the clairvoyant, violence ready to explode. The sorcerer wouldn’t survive it. And perhaps that was the point.
Paisley straightened, placing the bone across Christopher’s knee. Then she gently wrapped a single tentacle around the wrist of the arm he still held Aiden with. The clairvoyant shook his head, just once, releasing the sorcerer.
“It’s yours,” Christopher said, addressing Paisley. His voice was rough, still edged with emotion. “You’ve claimed it. I won’t take it from you.”
Aiden settled back on the couch. The letter from Isa was momentarily forgotten as he cut his gaze my way, then back to the unsettled clairvoyant.
Christopher picked up the bone, offering it to Paisley. “I’m sorry. I trust you.”
Paisley gently took the bone from Christopher, but didn’t settle down to chew it.
He glanced over at me, magic ringing his eyes again. “I’m sorry.”
“The bone triggered something?” I asked, though I hated questioning him if he didn’t want to elaborate.
He shook his head. “I don’t know. Something instinctual, protective.” He laughed harshly. “Channeling you for a moment, Socks.”
I didn’t answer.
He shook his head again. “I’m sorry. Again and again. ‘My tongue isn’t quick or slick.’ ”
It was a quote from a children’s book. The picture book from which Christopher had taken the name Knox and dubbed me Fox in Socks. I couldn’t tell if he was using it deliberately, trying to communicate something to me. Or whether he was simply slipping back into the patterns he’d originally used to navigate his magic, before it had settled. Before we’d gotten the blood tattoos.
I waited, but he didn’t elaborate. “The cards indicated a pending upheaval,” I said, thinking about the verbena card specifically.
“Change is always upon us.” Then without another word or any further clarification, Christopher started tidying the mugs and plates onto the tray.
Aiden opened the envelope, reading the note within. He glanced at me. “A dinner invitation.”
“He mentioned as much.”
“Not here,” the sorcerer said firmly, his gaze settling on Christopher’s bowed head as the clairvoyant reached for my mug.
“No,” I said.
“The diner? And you’ll come with me? So I don’t just murder Isa on the spot?”
I was surprised he thought I would stay his hand — then oddly pleased that he believed so. “Yes. Seven tonight?”
“They’ll be open? With the snow?”
“I’ll call. I’ll let you know if they’re not.”
Christopher straightened with the tray in hand. He crossed back to the kitchen without another word. Paisley followed on his heels, leaving the bone on the floor by the chair the clairvoyant had vacated.
Aiden’s gaze settled on the bone. “I’m triggering him.”
“It’s the nature of his magic.”
“That wasn’t his magic.”
“How do you know?”
Aiden glanced at me, his brow creasing questioningly.
“We aren’t like other clairvoyants and amplifiers,” I said.
“No. You aren’t.”
“Christopher would rather have you here, than not.”
Aiden’s gaze grew more pointed, as if he was homing in on prey. Specifically, me. “And you, Emma?”
I didn’t answer. Didn’t know how to articulate what I was feeling by just having him in the same room. Settled. Even hopeful. Apparently, even his brother and former lover on my doorstep weren’t enough to rattle me. But then, I’d been informed, time after time, that I didn’t process emotions the way everyone else did.
“I wasn’t in San Francisco long enough to adjust to the time change,” Aiden said, filling in the space I’d left open by not answering his question.
It took me a moment to navigate the change of subject. “Oh?”
“I should nap. Before I face my brother. And Ruwa.” Aiden spoke the female sorcerer’s name as if voicing it was a burden. But what kind of burden, I didn’t know.
“Plus, you’ll want to refuel the bat,” I said, trying to tease him. It came out flat.
Aiden flashed a grin as he stood. “Of course. I was planning on asking for your and Christopher’s help to fortify the perimeter spell. It will need to be tied to you both, if you wish to expand it.”
“And you,” I murmured, meeting his gaze as he stepped closer to stand over me. “Though I suppose it already is.”
He nodded curtly. “That can be altered, when you no longer wish to grant me entry.”
I couldn’t read him. And perhaps for the first time in my life, that bothered me — especially because it exposed a weakness in my own capabilities. I had magic with which to navigate the situation. An empathic ability triggered by skin-to-skin contact. It was cowardly not to use it. So, quelling my own concerns about my continual overreaction to the sorcerer, I lifted my hand, palm up, inviting him to touch me.
A smile flitted over his face, disappearing as quickly as it had appeared. Then he brushed his fingers along mine — fingertips running to my palm, then to the heel of my hand. Barely touching me. The caress ignited a multitude of nerve endings, the sensation radiating across my wrist.
“I’m sorry,” he murmured.
“For your brother?”
“Yes. And … for …” He sighed heavily. “Not completing my task in a timely manner.”
“Conquering your addiction, you mean?”
He laughed. His relief, paired with an exhaustion I hadn’t picked up on visually, trickled through the empathic connection made through our light physical contact. “I seem to have that under control, but it hasn’t been truly tested. I’ve been seeking a more permanent solution.” He tilted his head, stretching his neck to one side, then the other. Considering his words, perhaps. “I’ve never missed having access to my father’s library so acutely as I have the last few months. Libraries, I should say.”
“Truth,” I said, teasingly. Aiden had assumed my empathy was some sort of truth-telling ability when we’d first met. And it was that, except it came with an emotional connection. A side effect I’d never been entirely comfortable with. Not as Amp5, when I’d been forced to feel, to acknowledge the terror and pain I inflicted each time I drained an Adept of their magic. And not as Emma Johnson, who had foregone forming attachments other than those I’d taken with me. Attachments stolen from the Collective. Christopher and Paisley.
Aiden laughed quietly. “I must confess to being just a little glad that Isa showed up on your doorstep.”
“So you can finish what you started?”
“No.” He settled his hand fully on mine, fingertips at my wrist, warming my pulse points. “It gave me a reason to return. Without a solution, without an invitation.”
“I thought the invitation was implied.”
“When do you ever imply anything, Emma?”
I felt pinned to the couch, to the moment, by his sharp gaze. But oddly, I was comfortable within the feeling. I felt no need to struggle, to pull away, or to lash out. “I’m not entirely myself with you, Aiden.”
He frowned. Confusion, then some sort of disconcertion, filtered through our empathic connection.
I wasn’t sure what I’d said that was upsetting, but I tried again. “I mean … I don’t mean … I’m glad you’re here as well.”
Aiden smiled.
Then I ruined what might have been some sort of build-up to an intimate moment. “But I hope I don’t have to kill your brother.”
“Because that’s not who you want to be.”
“True. But also, I think it might upset you. And I would never intentionally hurt you.”
He hummed deep in his throat. Noncommittally, I thought. But I wasn’t entirely sure how to read what I was picking up from him, even through my empathy.
“I understand your priorities, Emma. Christopher. Paisley. Then the other three of the Five, I believe. If my brother … if I … put any of those in harm’s way …” Aiden shrugged. “I would expect you to deal death to the offender expediently.”
I blinked up at him. “This is an odd conversation, isn’t it?”
“Yes.” He shook his head. “I apologize. I’m tired, and my brother puts me on edge. I haven’t slept since before I got your note.”
“Aiden … I had to destroy the rune on my bureau.”
His surprise filtered through our connection, followed by a grim understanding. “Of course. You thought Isa might use it against you.”
“Is it possible? I’ve had odd dreams. One odd dream. A recollection, really, of a contract job that went badly a couple of years ago.”
That piqued the sorcerer’s interest, but if I hadn’t been touching him, I wouldn’t have picked up the shift. “It’s possible. Of course, Isa would have had to know the rune was there. And he would have had to develop a new talent. Neither telepathy nor dream walking is an Azar trait. Or a sorcerer trait in general.”
Dream walking. I’d never heard the term. Bee could invade and manipulate dreams, of course. But she, as with all the Five, wasn’t a typical telepath. “I’d assumed it was a spell.”
“Did you feel magic?”
“I don’t know. The dream was so vivid, the magic I felt within it might have been part of the recollection.”
He hummed thoughtfully again. “I can look into it.”
“Is Isa sensitive enough to your magic to have picked up the presence of the rune? If he was in the house? In the kitchen, which is under my bedroom?”
Aiden exhaled in a hiss. “Possibly.” He rubbed the back of his neck with his free hand. “I blunder around you like a teenager just coming into his magic.”
“There was no possible way for you to know that Isa would show up here.”
“Perhaps. But I knew of your connection to my father, didn’t I? And he would have felt that rune the moment he stepped onto the property. And in his hands …” He trailed off, shaking his head.
“You were going to nap.”
“I was.”
“Go, then. I’ll see you for dinner.”
Aiden nodded curtly, leaning down to brush a light kiss to the palm of my hand. His emotions were a confused tangle of self-incrimination and concern. He stepped away.
“I’ve missed you,” I whispered.
He paused, looking back at me. A warm smile chased away the tension etched across his face. “Every minute of every day. Crazy, isn’t it?”
“It is.”
His grin widened, displaying a flash of white teeth against his darker skin. My stomach flipped, fluttering. But Aiden turned and crossed back through to the kitchen without prolonging the conversation.
I tracked the hum of his magic as it thinned, fading as he exited the house. Then I ate a cookie. Christopher had stolen away the rest of the tea. I would give the clairvoyant time to sort himself out, so it didn’t seem as though I was checking up on him. Then I would call the Home Cafe about dinner.