“Language!” Hillen snaps.
Exasperated, Tad gestures to his mother while staring at me, his movements declaring, See! I rest my case.
I crack up and, with an amused head shake, move to my car. “Don’t worry, I got some pictures. Meet at my house, and we can all laugh about them until our faces and stomachs hurt. I promise to tell you every single detail.”
Tad presses his palms together and tilts his head back to declare thank you to the heavens. “Good, and when we’re done laughing at their expense, you can tell me who the hell tall, dark, and dreamy is and why he’s out here instead of chained to your bed.”
I can’t even get a word in before he’s closing his door and quietly starting his car.
Rogan shakes his head, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face, and it’s clear he’s not opposed to a good compliment being thrown his way. With a roll of my eyes, I round my car, placing the grimoire and the other items that Theresa rescued in the back seat, then I jump into my rust bucket of a vehicle and fire her up. Rogan and Hoot slide in next to me, and Hoot’s peeing on the boxwood gives me an idea. While Rogan buckles up and gets Hoot situated on his lap, I reach out with my newfound ability and see if there’s enough ancestor essence in the hedges and trees around here to do what I’m hoping I can do. Sure enough, I find what I need, and with a snap, I add a little magical cherry on today’s sundae of events.
Sirens sound in the distance, and adrenaline spikes through me as I hit the gas a little too hard and pull away. I giggle, and Rogan looks over, his brow crinkling with puzzlement for a moment before he finally sees my handiwork. “Did you just make all her hedges look like dicks?” Rogan asks me, and I can’t tell if he’s judging me or impressed.
I shrug. “Just a little something to remember me by.”
He barks out a laugh, and Hoot lies down across his thighs. Instead of perving out over how muscular they look in the jeans he’s wearing, I focus my thoughts on what the heck I’m going to do with Hoot.
He’s not my familiar anymore, but I can’t just take him back to the shelter. He was on death row there. Aside from the ass napalm, he’s not so bad. I know I can’t keep him right now, not when we’re about to go searching for missing witches and the people or person who’s taking them. It’s not like I can strap him into a baby carrier and take him along for the ride, even if his gas can be weaponized. When things settle down, he’s got a home with me, but what am I going to do with him for now?
A horn blares, making me jump. My thoughts are yanked from Hoot’s plight to Tad’s tan Prius as he pulls alongside me. He rolls down his passenger window, and I’m forced to crank the old handle that allows my window to descend.
“Last one there is a rotten egg!” Tad yells, and then the engine on his Prius whirrs as he pulls in front of me and begins the race.
“You ninny!” I shout at him, a wide smile on my face, and then I press the pedal to the metal.
“So I see maniac runs in the family,” Rogan observes dryly, giving the oh shit handle on his side of the car more action than it’s ever seen in its life.
“Well, if you can’t handle it, Mr. Kendrick, you’re more than welcome to just undo everything you’ve done to insert yourself in my life and be on your way,” I tell him, my tone saccharine.
“Tell me something,” Rogan starts, the look on his face assessing. “I thought you were new to this whole magic thing—”
“I am,” I interrupt, not sure where he’s going with this.
“Then how did you manage all that back there? No incantations, no herbs, no magnifiers or anything else that I could see helping you manage your newfound magic with such finesse. You didn’t even need to tap into my magic to make it all happen?”
I look over at him, a flicker of surprise moving through me. I could almost take that as a compliment. Almost.
“So if you’re so new and underprepared like you said, how did all of that just happen back at your aunt’s house?”
There’s a hint of mistrust in his tone that I don’t like, but instead of addressing that, I decide instead to answer his question, mostly because I think if I do, I might get answers to some of my own queries too.
“I’m not sure how selection works for Hemamancers,” I start, pulling my eyes away from him so I can weave my way through this gated community and beat Tad’s ass home. “But when I sealed myself to the bones, it felt like it unlocked this vault inside of my head. Suddenly I just knew things, knew I now had power, but not exactly how it would manifest.
“When I walked into Magda’s house, I just felt so mad. It was like my emotions opened that same vault again, and suddenly I had options for how I wanted to use that power. I could have cursed them, tortured them, destroyed everything they had quickly or slowly. There were so many choices, so many different things my magic could do in that moment, all laid out before me like a catalogue. I could sense the osteo matter in the ground, and that’s just what I went for. It was as though I put it in my shopping cart and checked out. Then the next thing I know, it was happening. Was it not like that for you? For your brother?”
“No,” he answers simply.
I wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. Uneasiness seeps into my thoughts, and I’m not sure what to think of that. Is what happened to me not normal? Is it different for each family or each stream of magic?
I commit right then and there to spend the rest of the night reading and studying. Grammy tried to teach us about our line and some general witch info, but there’s clearly a lot that I missed. I knew there was magic, a little about how it worked and the things that my grandmother did. But my disinterest in knowing more beyond that has clearly crippled me here and I need to rectify that as soon as possible.
“So how did it work for you then?” I press, having no intention of letting this go. I assumed how things worked in my family was how it would work for any selection in any family, but Rogan’s resounding no has me second-guessing and extremely curious.
“The magic in my line works like it used to when magic first joined with mortals and the first witches were born.”
I raise my eyebrows at the very once upon a time vibe to his tale, but I keep quiet because it feels like I’m just starting a Lord of the Rings book or something.
“We’re not selected later in life by chance, we’re born with a spark of magic that identifies us as heirs. When we were old enough, Elon and I were sent off to study with the Hemamancer and Osteomancer of our line. We grew up with them, in this world, practicing everything we would need to know for when it was our time.”
He explains all of this in a very matter-of-fact way, but I can’t help but feel like the way he grew up must have been very cold and lonely. “How did your parents feel about having to send you away?” I ask. Even though I know I’m prying and it’s none of my business, I just can’t seem to help myself.
Rogan shrugs and runs his hand from the crown of Hoot’s head to his rump, the motion steady and I suspect comforting. “My parents were matched because it was magically advantageous. That’s how things work with the House of Kendrick. It all comes down to being the best, the strongest, the most powerful. My parents knew what would be expected of them if their children were heirs.”