Runes glow faintly along the edges of the table, casting an amber light across their faces.
“How’s it going?” I ask.
Rowan grins. “We’re getting there. Sebastian’s theory about anchoring the spell to demon energy signatures is brilliant, actually.”
Sebastian doesn’t look up. His focus remains locked on the two compasses. “It’s not a theory if it works. Then it’s brilliant.”
Rowan laughs. “Handsome and modest too.”
S’Nark perches on the edge of the table, in the form of a little demon cherub, his forked tail flicking lazily. “They’re usingmyessence like I’m a demonic blueprint, but sure, give them the credit. I wouldn’t want to dampen the Wiccan lovefest.”
I bite back a smile. “You doing okay, S’Nark?”
“Peachy. Nothing saysFriday nightlike having two witches bastardize my demonic aura for spell work.”
Sebastian’s ebony brow arches. “You’re being dramatic.”
“I’m ademon.Drama is literally burned into me on a cellular level, with firebrands and bad decisions dating back to the first apocalypse.”
Rowan laughs and adjusts one of the compasses, murmuring an incantation under her breath. The indicator needle spins, then stops, pointing toward the window.
She frowns and repositions it. The needle spins again, slower this time, before settling in the same direction.
“It’s responding,” she says. “But we need to refine the focus. Right now, it keeps pointing at the standing stones. I think it’s picking up on the energy flux from the ley lines, not just the minions.”
Sebastian leans closer, studying the runes. “If we layer another filter to isolate corrupted soul energy instead of just raw demon essence, it should sharpen the signal.”
Rowan nods. “It’s worth a shot.”
I watch them work, their movements synchronized, almost instinctive. There’s a rhythm to it, a partnership that feels easy.
“You two make a good team,” I say.
Rowan glances up, her gray eyes glinting. “Thanks, Poppy. I’m having more fun than I should be, honestly, but I won’t apologize for it. It’s so rare that my skill set is useful.”
Sebastian doesn’t respond, but I catch the faintest flicker of something in his expression. Acknowledgment, maybe. Or possibly agreement.
“How much longer do you think?” I ask.
“A few days at most,” Rowan says. “We’re close.”
“Good.” I turn toward the door. “Let me know if you need anything.”
“Will do.”
I step into the hallway and pull the door shut behind me, the hum of the house settling around me like a blanket. My legs ache, my arms feel like jelly, and all I want is a hot shower.
“Hey, P, are you done training?” Asher’s coming down the hallway, looking distracted, Nobuddy and Somebuddy at his feet, tails wagging.
“For today.” The chihuahuas swarm my ankles, yipping excitedly as I crouch to scratch behind their ears. “Do you need me for something?”
Asher shifts his weight, glancing back the way he came. “I’m not sure. The dogs are acting strange. I think there’s something witchy-weird happening in the parlor.”
I straighten, not sure what that means. “Witchy-weird how?”
“That’s a ‘you’ question. Come see.”
I follow him down to the parlor, the chihuahuas racing ahead. When we step inside, I look around, wondering what’s going on.
