My aunt’s furious stare snaps to me, and as though she’s seeing me for the first time, her eyes widen with astonishment, and the blood drains from her face.
“Leni?” she chokes out feebly, reaching a hand out for the wall to steady herself as she takes me in. “Honey, is that you?”
I reach for her, and sorrow rips through her features as I fold her up in a tight hug.
Where is Tad?
“It’s me, Aunt Hill, it’s me. I’m so sorry,” I try to reassure her as she quakes in my arms, the sobs slowly building and spilling out of her. “Don’t cry, I’m here,” I coo as I direct us back toward the living room and the large light blue sofa there.
“He said you were dead,” she keens into my shoulder, and I squeeze her even tighter against me. “Said it was his fault, that he didn’t protect you,” she stammers.
My eyes flash to Rogan, who meets my stare with one filled with contrition before he drops his gaze to the floor, like the onus is too heavy right now for him to bear.
“He was wrong,” I tell my aunt, my tone firm as though I’m making this clear not only to her but to Rogan as well. “I did die, but Rogan saved me. He made it so I could come back.”
I see questions fill Hillen’s teary stare, and seeing her hurt so much makes my eyes sting and my throat grow tight.
Out of nowhere, the front door slams open, and all of us jump. Tad hurries in, grabbing for the knob. “Shit, sorry, it got really windy all of a sudden.”
The declaration is innocent, but I find myself looking over at Rogan, wondering if the sudden wind is natural or mancer made. Like he has the very same concern, he casually moves to the window and peeks out of the closed curtain. I feel his magic flare and start to search as he stares out into the empty street.
So, this is what it feels like to be hunted.
I knew from the moment I was back that I would be eventually, but the reality of it hits me like a charging elephant. I’m not safe, which means I’m also putting Tad and Hillen in danger. My heart picks up, and I try to swallow down the cutting truth. I shouldn’t have come here, but I had nowhere else to go.
Rogan spins to me, the look on his face imploring me to calm down. “We’re okay,” he reassures, but I hear the unspokenfor nowin it all the same.
“What are you doing here?” Tad lobs at Rogan, his curious eyes moving to mine. “Did you suddenly remember his number?”
“Where the hell were you?” Hillen snaps at Tad, and I swear my attention shifts around the living room like I’m watching an intense tennis match. “I had to take a cab, Thaddeus!” she screeches at him.
“Elon is here,” Rogan announces, and I swear I get whiplash from how quickly I swivel my focus back to him. “I told him to come here after he searched your shop and your apartment.”
Hillen and Tad are quietly arguing, but everything around me goes still and fuzzy as Rogan moves to open the door.
Elon approaches the threshold, his green eyes pensive and anxious as he takes in his younger brother. He looks so much better than the last time I saw him. His cheeks aren’t as hollow, and his stare is missing the haunted glaze it always had back in the church. He’s clean, his scruffy beard gone, and the olive long-sleeve T-shirt he’s wearing hugs his muscles, as do his faded black jeans. He looks healthy, and recovered, and here.
“No sign of anyone at her shop or apartment. Have you heard anything?” Elon asks Rogan as he steps into the house.
I give my aunt a quick squeeze, and then I’m pushing up off of the couch. The movement catches Elon’s eye just as his worried gaze moves from Rogan to the other occupants in the living room.
“Oh, thank fuck,” Elon proclaims, and then he’s opening his arms so I can crash into him and practically strangle him in a hug. “I thought she had you. I thought for sure she’d gotten to you somehow,” he confesses, and the relief that fills those words is palpable.
“You’re back,” I croak out, emotion making it almost impossible to speak.
Geez, coming back from the dead is brutal.
First Tad, then Rogan, and now Hillen and Elon. I should have spread these reunions out; all this crying is going to give me the worst damn headache.
“I’m so sorry,” I start to chant to Elon as he squeezes me tighter. “I’m so fucking sorry,” I repeat, not sure exactly what my sorrow and apology encompasses.
Is it just that I couldn’t stop Jamie, that she killed him because I didn’t solve the problem of blood magic fast enough? Or maybe it’s because he was taken in the first place, that he endured so much in that church before I showed up and failed to save the day. Fuck, it could be for all the shitty things that have happened to him long before I was ever in the picture. All I know is I wish I could take all the suffering away, and I’m so damn sorry that I’ll never be able to.
“Stop that crap,” Elon tells me gently. “You have nothing to be sorry for.”
“I should have figured it out sooner, maybe if I—”
“What? Had gotten out? Had died first? Maybe if you had what? She was crazy and way more powerful than she should have been. Nothing you could have said or done would have changed that.”
