“Simmer down, son. We put some cameras up. It wasn’t worth sending you two without confirmed sightings.”
“I’m sure they’re simply lying low after finding the barn burned down with their captives gone and henchmen dead,” Dimitri says. He levels a stern look at Callum like it’s somehow his fault. “They’ll have to surface at some point. When they do, we’ll be ready for them.”
“Idris, have there been any rumors in the fae community about abductions or unexplained disappearances?” Callum’s tone is almostneutral as he addresses the fae. But I can tell from the small twitch of Idris’ lips, he’s picking up on the frustration bleeding through.
“The short answer is no. The long answer is more complicated,” he admits.
“It always is,” Gideon mutters under his breath.
Idris pretends not to hear him.
“Unfortunately, fae are born and raised to be suspicious. After centuries of war and bloodshed, the folk are hesitant to trust any but those in their inner circle.” Idris nods toward Callum and Gideon’s parents. “I joined this enclave to prove there is strength when we stand together. I want my people to find a better way of life, but they can’t do that unless I lead by example.”
Callum gives him a look of begrudging respect, and I find myself pleasantly surprised as well. Maybe there’s more to this guy than half-truths and calculated looks. Either that or we’re gobbling up a load of bullshit.
Conversation trails off as we eat, and I tuck into the meal despite my churning stomach. The rhythmic clinking of forksand knives against the dishes relaxes me. The food is so delicious I don’t even have to pretend. After I polish off a slab of strawberry cheesecake, Mallory calls for coffee. Once it’s delivered, the parents wait a few minutes before reaching some unspoken agreement that it’s safe to talk again.
“Given the information that’s come to light, it would be safer for all three of you to move back home.” Joshua’s voice is firm. He crosses his arms over his chest, braced for pushback.
“Dad, we’re grown,” Gideon argues, furrowing his brow.
“A grown man doesn’t let pride stop him from keeping someone they care about safe, son,” Sarah counters. Her tone is softer than her husband’s, but her words hit a lot harder for both men. Neither Callum nor Gideon will meet her eyes now.
“Thank you for offering me your hospitality,” I say, genuinely touched that their offer includes me. I don’t want to be pushed to make a decision right away, though. “We’ll give you an answer after we’ve had time to discuss it.”
Joshua and Sarah nod reluctantly.
“Mallory, did your friend have a talisman?” Dimitri reintroduces the topic gingerly, looking at his wife with a tenderness that surprises me.Perhaps he’s a better partner than father.Despite his care, Callum’s mother is clearly startled by the question.
“If she did, we never discussed it,” Mallory says, eyes darting up to meet her husband’s. “Given the importance, I suspect she kept it a secret. Even from me.”
“If all the djinn are dead or in hiding, how are we going to get one of these things for Sheena?” Gideon snaps. He shifts around in his chair restlessly, the wood groaning under his weight.
“Can’t we just pick something and make it her talisman?” Callum asks. He unclips and tosses his watch on the table. It lands with a mutedthunk. “These things have to have an origin. You can’t tell me they just popped into existence one day.”
“You’re probably right, but locating someone who knows more and is willing to share that knowledge with you is its own challenge,” Idris says. His face twists slightly. “You could always ask the witches.”
Apparently, he just stepped on a landmine because everyone freaks out and starts talking over each other.
It’s so chaotic I’m tempted to cover my ears. I’m actually relieved when Idris holds his hands up in the universal supplicatory gesture people use when they’ve just offended almost everyone in their immediate vicinity.
“We can’t trust witches,” Joshua says. “They’re more likely to drain Sheena’s life force than help her.”
“I didn’t say it was agoodidea,” Idris admits.
“I’m scared to even ask this, but what’s the deal with the witches?” I address Sarah, hoping she’ll be the voice of reason. The last thing I want to do is stir them all up again, but this is my life and death we’re talking about.
“Well dear, every supernatural can forge their own path,” Sarah begins. “I mean that to say no species is inherently good or bad?—”
Ciprian interrupts by spewing some sort of drunken chortle-huff noise. It’s guttural and gross, and it makes me regret not cutting him off sooner.
“What Sarah is so delicately trying to avoid saying is witches are the fucking worst, but it’s because they want to be.” Ciprian finishes that eloquent statement with a hiccup that makes his mother’s eye twitch.
“It’s more complex than that,” Idris says. He picks up the pitcher of creamer in one hand and the canister of sugar in the other and holds both containers at equal heights. “Evolution and altruism walk hand in hand in most modern cultures. The need for personal survival balances with the need to cherish, protect, and sacrifice for those you love.”
I nod, following along with his explanation while avoiding eye contact.
“As Sarah and... Ciprian were saying... witches don’t pursue that balance. They never have. Many covens are notorious for their capricious motives, pursuing chaos to the exclusion of almost everything else, including their own safety.”
