“What’s going on, Leni? Why would anyone want to hurt you?” Aunt Hillen questions, her brown eyes apprehensive.
“I’m not sure. That’s what Rogan and I are going to try and figure out. You two go, I’ll call and check in, explain everything when we get to where we’re going.”
She studies me for a moment, her gaze moving from me to Tad and back again. I can see that she’s torn about getting them to safety versus staying here to try and protect me.
“I’ll be okay,” I reassure her. “I’m not completely defenseless,” I tell her, referring to the magic I now have running through my veins, but she looks at Rogan for a moment before relenting.
“I hate leaving you, kiddo,” she states, her voice wobbling with emotion. “I know we’ll just get in the way, which is why I’m going to listen, but I hate the thought of you dealing with any of this on your own.”
I open my arms, and my aunt steps into them, quickly wrapping me up in a strong hug. A second later, I feel Tad encircle us both and squeeze. “I’m not alone, and I promise I’ll just be a phone call away. I’ll keep you updated about everything that’s happening. Hopefully, this will all be over soon.”
The words spill easily from my lips, and it isn’t until after they’re out that I realize that they taste a lot like a lie. Truth is, I have no idea how long this will take. Yes, Rogan is here, and he did help save Tad, but that doesn’t exactly make up for what he did tome. I’m nowhere close to thinking I can trust him. If I account for that and add in the scary taste I just got of how dangerous this all might be, I know without a shadow of doubt I’m in way over my head.
Aunt Hillen kisses me on the cheek and wipes at her eyes. “Call us as soon as you can.”
I nod and squeeze her arm before giving Tad one last hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay. I’m so sorry you got caught up in all of this,” I offer, shuddering at the image that pops into my mind of him turning blue as his body started to spasm and then relax into impending death. I’m terrified that this will be all I’m able to see every time I close my eyes now.
“You saved me, that’s all that matters. Just be careful though, I don’t know what I would do without you.”
“Same,” I confess, and with one more squeeze, Tad steps back and wraps his arm around his mother’s shoulders. They offer a sad wave and then start down the stairs. Rogan scans our surroundings, and I hold my breath until they’re back in Tad’s Prius and driving out of the complex. I quickly open my phone and forward the pictures of Magda and Gwen to them in hopes it will keep them busy and entertained for a bit instead of worrying about me.
A hollow feeling resonates through me as I watch my family go, and without a word, I turn and open my front door, pulling the hide-a-key from the lock and shoving it in my pocket. Hoot brushes past me, but instead of being offended by his lack of respect, I welcome the intrusion. He somehow picked up on the hex on the door, so if there’s anything else going on in here, I have hope that he’ll give me fair warning before it’s me gasping for air on the ground.
Rogan follows closely behind me, not saying a word, and I can feel the tension rolling off of him in waves. My heart is racing, and I can’t help but look at my apartment differently. This has always been my space, my refuge, but now it feels tainted. Someone tampered with my home, I don’t know what they’ve touched or what could suddenly pose a threat. I hate that I feel anxious here instead of calm and peaceful like I always felt before.
Hoot sniffs around, and I move slowly into the apartment behind him. He doesn’t bark or growl at anything, and now that I know to look, I don’t pick up on any anomalies either. There are no threatening shadows or bad vibes coming from anything inside this place.
I hurry through my room and into my closet, grabbing a duffel bag and unzipping it.
“You’ll need short-sleeve shirts and pants. It gets cooler this time of year in the evening, so maybe a light jacket or something too,” Rogan calls from the living room, as though he could suddenly sense my rushedwhat do I weardilemma.
I open a drawer and pull out some jeans, grabbing a pair of shorts and a skirt while I’m at it. Then I start pulling things from hangers, rolling them up and stuffing them in my bag.
“Did you take these?” Rogan asks, as though I can see what he’s talking about.
“Take what?” I answer, confused, as I pull my underwear drawer open and pretty much dump its contents into the bag. One can never have too many undergarments on a mystery trip to who knows where to hunt god knows what. It’s also possible that I might be a bit of an over packer on my best day. If asked, I would deny that emphatically, but as I shove a couple sundresses into the duffel, as well as some shoe and bootie options, there’s no hiding the truth from myself.
“These pictures in your living room, did you take them?” Rogan clarifies.
“Uh, yeah, why?” I answer distractedly as I continue to pack.
“No, reason, just wondering,” he replies dismissively, and I hear his carpet-muffled footsteps as he walks from the living room into my room.
I grab the leather-bound instruction manual that I dug out of my cedar hope chest last night. The manual I forgot I had until I was off hunting for a familiar. I found it buried under movie ticket stubs, old diaries, picture albums, and folded middle school letters that would impress an origami pro. I read through it, and I don’t think there’s anything that I need, but just in case, better to have it and not need it than need it and not have it.
I walk out of my closet to find Rogan studying my bedroom. It suddenly feels weird to have him in my space, judging my soft cream bedding and the number of throw pillows I make my bed with. I’m reminded that I don’t know crap about him, and yet the peek he’s now gotten intomylife today is a little unsettling.
“So what’s the plan now?” I ask, reaching over and plucking a picture of me and my dad from Rogan’s hands and setting it back down on my bedside table where it belongs. He gives me a curious look, but I ignore it and go stock up on toiletries in the bathroom.
“We’ll get back to my place a little too late to do much tonight, but tomorrow I’ll take you to Elon’s house and some other places to see if you pick up on anything as an Osteomancer that I can’t. Hopefully, there will be a lead, and we’ll go from there. If you don’t pick up on anything, I have a contact in the Order who’s been working on these cases, so I’ll reach out to him to see if he has anything new to go on.”
“I thought you didn’t trust the Order?” I question as I pack some toys I bought for Hoot.
“I don’t, but I trust Marx, and you know what they say about keeping your enemies close.”
I file away his use of the wordenemiesbut don’t question him about it. I have a feeling that, when it comes to him, I’ll learn more from keen observation than trying to grill him, which could inadvertently clue him in on the little things I’m picking up on.
I turn the bathroom light off and find Rogan running a hand down an oversized scarf I left hanging on the back of my door. He jerks his hand away and shoves it in his pocket just as soon as I enter the room, and it feels like I just caught him rifling through my panty drawer. Why is he touching my stuff?
