I wasn’t sure what I might have said to that, because a second later my eyelids clanged shut like steel shutters. Her words blurred into soft incomprehensibility and I slid quietly, unwillingly into sleep.
***
“That is your last countertop,” Maverick said warningly, glowering at me over the lip of a glass measuring cup. “Scrub another one, and I’m going to hex you.”
I paused, glancing sideways at him. He was kidding about the hex. I was... um... around sixty percent sure he was kidding.
“They’re messy,” I said, sweeping up the last trail of breadcrumbs. Someone hadn’t cleaned up after their midnight snacks again.
I suspected a certain High Witch had shirked chores again, too lethargic to tidy up. I was beginning to worry about her. The perpetual night shift was sapping her color and etching shadows beneath her eyes. She put on a good facade, but I knew she was exhausted. Living under vampire siege would do that to a person. And here I was, being more of a hindrance than a help. Without my potions, my magical arsenal was vanishingly small. I still didn’t know how or evenifI could use this new, frightening power on the dragon culprit.
So I’d cleaned. Scrubbed. Scoured. Baked. Whipped around the coven house like a small, domestic tornado. I couldn’t do anything about my shop. No further incidents had occurred at the house. A week had passed, and my shop remained closed. My son was having nightmares. And I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t change it. So I wanted to feeluseful,damn it.
“And the house will not spontaneously combust if you sit still for five minutes,” he countered. “You’re a guest, not a damn maid.”
“Language,” I said, shooting a glance at the kitchen table. Finn had taken up a spot near the head of the table, head bent over his science homework.
“Did you really just lecture me over the word ‘damn’, Poppy?” Maverick demanded.
“Damn is not a swear word, Mom,” Finn groused. “You should hear the words the kids at school use—way worse.”
“Well, that doesn’t mean you should.”
“I didn’t—Maverick did.”
I looked at Maverick. “The point still stands.” But I couldn’t hide my smile. “Don’t make me set up a swear jar around here.”
“Okay, Pollyanna.”
Hmm, maybe a swear jar wasn’t such a bad idea. I’d be independently wealthy within weeks if I could strong-arm the coven into following the rules. Wanda alone would make up half my income. Maverick snorted but didn’t correct me. I doubted I could have pried a cent from him anyway.
“But he’s still not wrong, Mom,” Finn said gently, turning in his seat to face me. His eyes were bleary with fatigue, and I ached to tuck him into his bed. He was growing up. Dealing with grown up fears. Grown up nightmares. In some ways, hewasn’ta kid anymore. He was a young man now. And part of me was terrified of admitting it, even if it was obviously true.
“About what?” I hedged, glancing away from his insistent stare.
There was a lot to look at. Wanda seemed to be constantly in the process of ordering renovations of the coven house. Lorcan didn’t seem to mind her zealous adherence to aesthetics one bit. The counters were marble. The floors were darkly stained hardwood. The range stove was my secret envy—just too perfect for brewing. Maverick and I used to compete to see who got custody of the stove whenever we were brewing. Until this. Until my power had gone out of control. Before my magic was dangerous.
“That you don’t have to clean up after everybody all the time,” Finn answered
“No one is asking you to,” Maverick put in.
“Yeah, you should be resting, not scrubbing the countertops,” Finn finished.
“I want to help,” I said weakly.
“No, you want to punish yourself,” Finn continued. “Because you’ve got this stupid idea that you’re hurting us. That you’re scary. Well, Mom, if you’re scary, I must be scary.”
“What are you talking about?” I started.
He looked at me. “Because I’m not normal, am I?”
“Of course you are!”
“Look at all these things I can do. That’s not normal! Or the fact that it’s easy for magicians to go bad—why wouldn’t you be scared of me?I’mscared of me!”
“I would never be afraid of you,” I managed.
“Well, I would never be afraid of you either,” he answered. “That was sort of my point.”
