I doubt Sara and Jinx will have tea for long, though. They’re exhausted expressions already foretell their need for something stronger. They’ll soon be raiding the cupboards for liquor to help numb the mind-blowing information. I can sympathize.
A headache is still throbbing above my eyebrows, and I rub at it as I follow the group into the living room.
With a wooden tray of wobbling teacups between them, Sara and Jinx are the last to enter the living room stocked full of mismatched furniture. Marian had eyed the two witches lounging on the yellow, patterned couch. They weren’t there when we entered, and now, I get the feeling they were hoping to eavesdrop.
Under the old witch’s scrutiny, they excused themselves, flashing curious and slightly disdainful glances at Cinder and myself.
Sara and Jinx set the tray on a coffee table when the two coven members disappear down the dark hall. The coffee table is between the yellow couch, a red Victorian couch, and a grey striped couch, aged and stained. Then, Sara helps Marian sit, guiding her down by the elbow. Tabatha takes the seat next to the high priestess and prepares their tea with a spoon of sugar for each.
Wrapping my arm around Jinx’s middle, I kiss her on the back of the head and whisper, “I have to make a phone call.” She nods and bends to the tray of tea. I stride to the door, feeling Cinder’s eyes bore into my shoulder for abandoning him.
“Do you want any, Cinderson?” I hear Jinx ask as I shut the door softly behind me.
When I’m outside, I breathe in the damp, autumn, night air, feeling the rain peck my cheek. It’s not raining as hard as it was a few minutes ago, the brief storm already passing. I tip my face toward the sky and beseech the wet drops to chase away the hostile magic leeching outside.
Feeling as though I’m not alone, I automatically look toward the greenhouse. A pair of feline irises peer back at me, blink, and then the black cat melts into the shadows of the vines. I frown at where it once sat. A smeared nose print against the window is all that remains.
Cats. I’ve never been fond of them.
Fishing inside my pocket, I pull out my phone and lean against the wet siding with peeling paint. Rex picks up on the first ring. “You’re alive.”
“For now.” I peer inside the nearest window of the living room and watch as Sara mutters a spell to ignite the fireplace. Sparks fly from her fingers, their vivid reflections shining on the curls framing her face. “How’s Damien?”
Rex chuckles darkly. “Reese let him out of the hospital room. He’s strutting about, demanding to be put back on patrol duty.”
I huff. “You’re not going to let him, are you?”
“Absolutely not. He still winces when he stands. I’ll give it another day or so. He should be fully healed by then.” He clears his throat and says his next words cautiously. “Did the witches kick you to the curb at first glance?”
“No,” I say, smiling at the expected snide remark. “But we did learn more than I ever wanted to know.”
“Oh?” His voice hardens, ready to defend from a distance. “Should I be concerned?”
I swap the phone to my other ear and turn to survey the flat land now pocked with puddles. “It’s a long story. Kaya is both Jinx and Sara’s aunt, a daughter to both a witch and a shaman like Jinx. Somehow she got mixed up with the Bane and was forced to insert herself into Jinx’s life.”
Silence falls over the receiver, and I squint at the screen to make sure I didn’t lose the call. When I put it back to my ear, Rex barks, “Bullshit.”
“Nope,” I murmur back. “It’s a story you wouldn’t believe unless you heard it right along with us.”
“You’re implying that she attempted to kill Damien for the Bane Pack because she was forced to?”
Hell yeah, she would have. Damien said she was on the phone when he stumbled across her. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what she was discussing or who she was discussing it with.
“As I said,” I say, allowing some of my wolf’s growl through my voice. “It’s a long story, but I think she’s a victim here, Rex. I don’t think she had a choice. They have something over her. I don’t know what, but . . . for this many years . . .”
“Yeah.” He takes a breathy pause. “How are the girls holding up?”
I rub the back of my neck. “Better than expected.”
Damien’s voice seeps through the background, and I hear Rex shut a door. “What do you need from me?”
“We have reason to believe the Bane Pack is forcing all manner of species to join their numbers against their will.”
I hear a rustle of papers. “Oh? And who told you that? The witches?”
“I trust them, Rex. At least one of them.” He says nothing, so I push on. “Find out what you can. Find out where they live, and see if you can –” I trail off, trying to find the right word.
“Spy on them?”
“Yeah.” I sigh. “But Rex?”
“Hmm?”
“Get Evo to help you. Be careful. Don’t get too close, and don’t stay too long.”
“I could say the same for you.”
I grunt my response, hang up, and I slip the phone back into my pocket. Darker clouds loom on the horizon, promising more rain to come, but my thoughts are full of Rex’s last warning. Hopefully, he’ll be able to gather information without causing more trouble than we already have. Jinx had guessed not all of the Bane Pack could be bad people. I think she might be right.
Jinx Whitethorn
This has been the longest day of my existence. My mind still reels with information, but my heart – broken as it was when I was betrayed by my aunt – aches a little less. If this is all true, if my aunt is being forced into all this, then maybe, just maybe, she meant what she said. Maybe, there was some honesty in the way she behaved, too. She’s in trouble, and what’s left of my jumbled brain is trying to work out how to save her. If I can save her.
I lay in the bed of the guest bedroom and watch as Jacob towels dry the rest of his body. We had been discussing that topic until my attention was snagged by the beads of water dribbling down his chest and abs, finally disappearing into another towel that’s wrapped around his waist. I watch one particular bead lazily slide over the muscled humps and bumps. When it’s low, low enough to where I can no longer not look, I zone in on the bulge pressing against the towel.
Noticing my stare, he pauses drying his shoulders. I raise my gaze to his, and he cocks his lips to the side in a wicked smirk. “You seem better,” he says softly.
I breathe a sigh of relief, thankful he didn’t verbally point out my gawking.
“I feel better.” I sit up, reach back, and retie my braid. “It all makes sense now. I was so angry – so stuck in my head – because I couldn’t figure out why she’d do this to me. Why she’d come into your home and betray everyone she befriended, including me. Now that I know . . .” I shrug off the rest of my acceptance, knowing he’d know what I meant.
“Our home,” Jacob murmurs. He sits on his side of the bed and swivels to face me.
“What?” I ask, genuinely confused.
“You said ‘your home.’” He grabs my foot and rubs with expert, precise fingers. “It’s our home.”