“Let her go right now!” she screams, sounding more like a whistling teapot than a human.
“That might be a bad idea…” I start, but Gwen cuts me off with a scream.
“Now!”
I release a resigned sigh. Fine, if she doesn’t want to listen, that’s on her. With a flick of my hand, I free Magda from the magic holding her in place. An agonized wail rips through the battered foyer, and she crumples to the ground, cradling her broken arm. Gwen drops with her, reaching for her injured hand.
“You stupid idiot,” Magda snarls at Gwen, pulling her hand out of her daughter’s reach. She looks up at me, pain and rage alight in her gaze. “Fix this,” she orders, holding her arm up to me, the break now hanging at a complete right angle. “Fix this, or so help me I’ll make sure those bones don’t stay yours for long.”
“Are you threatening her...again?” Rogan asks smoothly, stepping past me and moving his body just in front of mine in an oddly protective way.
“She broke my arm!” Magda accuses, her scream rivaling that of a feral pig.
“Shedid nothing other than stop you from assaulting someone. Your obstinate and careless daughter did that to you.”
Gwen’s face scrunches in outrage, but Magda cuts off whatever vitriol she’s about to spew at Rogan. Bet she’s regretting all that drool she left on the floor when she first laid eyes on him. Must be a talent of his.
“You bring some Lesser into my home, attack me and my daughter, and now you let him talk to your blood like that?” she demands, and I snort out a laugh.
“Oh, we’re blood now?” I ask, feigning shock. I could point out that Rogan is no more Lesser than I am, but it doesn’t matter. She’s either trying to offend him by using the slang witches use for those without magic or she’s too dense to realize what he is. Either way, dealing with Magda is a waste of time. I got what I came here for, and I’m over being near such vile people. I’ll need to cleanse myself and probably burn these clothes just to get rid of their evil eye and shitty vibes.
“Let’s go.”
Rogan nods and turns to leave. Hoot is completely passed out in his arms, like everything that just happened is the perfect napping soundtrack. The sight makes me smile. Such a weird ass dog. At least the butt trumpeting has stopped for the time being.
“You can’t leave. You need to fix this, Lennox!” Magda screams after me, her fury bouncing impotently around the walls and marble floor.
I keep walking.
“Osteomancer! I order you to fix the damage that you’ve done!” she roars.
I shake my head, baffled by this woman’s audacity. I stop and turn back to her, holding up the ancient grimoire that she stole and planned to destroy. “I would love to help you, but some asshole stole my book, and I wasn’t able to learn how. Maybe put some Windex on it, I’ve heard it’s a good cure-all, or…” I tilt my head, mimicking the gruesome angle of her arm. “Yeah, you should probably call an ambulance, see what the Lesser doctors can do for you. Good luck!” I call out sweetly over my shoulder as I turn to leave.
We clear the mess I made with the vase and mirror when suddenly Hoot wakes up and starts wiggling around in Rogan’s arms like he’s been possessed by one of those inflatable air dancers that businesses put outside to draw people’s attention as they drive by. Rogan rushes to put him down so he doesn’t make a jump for it and hurt himself.
I get ready for thetater totto bolt, but surprisingly, he stops in the middle of the entryway and does what Hoot does best, he stinks up the place via one large pile of shit. The smell is like a jab by a heavy weight to my olfactory receptors. If I weren’t trying to keep from throwing up, I’d be impressed with just how much the little guy had in him.
Rogan looks at Hoot with utter shock, like something that cute shouldn’t be capable of something so vile. I would laugh except that would require me breathing right now, and there’s no way in hell I’m sucking those cloying fumes into these precious lungs.
Hoot finishes his gift and then trots to the door, me and Rogan tight on his heels. We hurry out, my aunt and cousin’s rage-filled screams chasing after us as we go. I ignore the threats and promises of retribution, mostly because I’m running out of air and need to get outside with a quickness.
I’m sure they’ll come for me again someday, but for Magda, that’ll be after a couple of surgeries and some pretty intense physical therapy. They may try to find another Bone Witch to fix her, but unless Rogan and I uncover the mystery of where the others have gone, I’m the only one left on this side of the globe.
I shut the front doors behind me, and the demon screams all but disappear. I take a deep, relieved breath and then another as Rogan scoops Hoot back up and looks at him like he’s seeing him for the first time. I reach over and rub behind Hoot’s ears. Guess my pep talk in the car really sunk in; he took that shit to the next level, literally.
A lightness creeps into my chest, and I can’t help the smile that slinks across my face as I head for my car. I guess all those memes were right, victory really is sweet. I mean, I don’t know that I’d say that it’s better than any dessert I’ve ever had, but it’s nice to come out on top for once. A girl could get used to this.
7
Screeching tires and the smell of burnt rubber assault me as a Prius comes tearing up the road, rounds the ostentatious fountain, and skids to a stop a few feet away from where Rogan and I are standing in front of the mansion that’s now seen better days. Out of nowhere, a barred hand slams against my chest, pushing me back. I shout out an objection, but Rogan is already in front of me, an incantation pouring from his lips, and a vile of some kind of potion being thrown at the ground. A thin veil of red shoots up in front of us, separating us from the car.
I grab onto Rogan’s shoulder, but before I can tell him everything is fine, he cuts me off.
“Get back, I’ll protect us!”
I roll my eyes and turn to find Hoot sitting on the stone walkway, watching, his expression bored. I motion with my thumb toward Rogan in a distinctcan you believe this guykind of way, but Hoot just blinks and then lifts a leg and pees on a planter that has a trimmed boxwood growing in it. He’s really taking our chat to heart.
“What the fuck?” Tad yelps in alarm as he shoves his car door open and stumbles out to take in the sudden magical wall of protection.
