I slam on my brakes when I look up and find I’m about to drive through a red light. Rogan grunts as he jerks forward, his hold on theoh shithandle so tight that I suspect the handle is coming with us the next time we get out of the car.
“My bad,” I declare to the guys. “That one was totally on me.”
A bunch of man grumbling fills the car, and I swear I hear Marx mumble something about fighting me in the future for my keys.
Such bitchy little witches.
“Anyway,” I sing-song. “Back to what I was saying. The Order found your aunt and three dead bodies. They made her tell them what happened, and then the High Council tied up that loose end by killing her. When Rogan and Elon came back, I’m sure you can only imagine what those power-hungry psychos wanted. It wasn’t enough that they rule over and control everything; Rogan and Elon had a shiny new ability, and they wanted it.
“When Rogan and Elon wouldn’t give it up, they were punished. Now, I know this all seems like a lot, I get it, but before you go trying to poke holes in the truth or convincing yourself that none of what I’m saying is possible, just remember that you saw me dead in that med tent with your own eyes. And now you’re riding in the car and talking with a very alive me.”
I zoom into the lot of the park I rode my first solo ley line into this morning. The yellow slide practically waves hello as the setting sun paints the sky in pinks, purples, and oranges that somehow feel like the perfect farewell. I even park in the same empty spot I did before.
The car is quiet as I slip out, the others seemingly content to follow my lead, which is interesting because I have no idea what I’m doing. My back door squeals in protest as I open it and reach for my bag of supplies. Rogan grabs the box of clothes he deposited in here earlier, and then we all trek toward the line.
“Where are we headed?” Marx finally asks when we’re close enough that the power is buzzing expectantly all around us. “First, we’re going to Rogan’s house to rest a little and get cleaned up. Then we’re going to use the tracker that Prek put on that dude Alvarez.”
Three sets of brows dip with confusion as questions filter into all of the guys’ gazes.
“Hear me out,” I request, preparing to lay out why I think that’s the best plan of action. “The High Council has spies everywhere, but especially in the Order. Alvarez is in the Order. He also got a call and then ended up on a bus stop bench, watching my shop. When he saw us, he probably went to report back. It’s probably a safe bet that he’s on the High Council’s payroll,” I explain as my eyes drift over to the spot where I remember someone stood and watched from the first time Rogan and I used this ley line.
“Here’s the other part though. Someone put an owl skull in my room that portaled me to a church where Elon and I, as well as a ton of other witches, were murdered. More than likely, it was a member of Prek’s team who snuck the skull into my room. They were the only ones besides you, me, and the Major who had access,” I declare, my eyes fixed on Rogan’s. “Maybe I’m wrong, maybe they’re not connected, but Alvarez’s split loyalties seem suspicious to me. And if I’m right, it means that psycho bitch Jamie wasn’t just working with a demon. It means she was working with the High Council too.”
10
The Tennessee sun creeps slowly to bed, and the exit for Sweet Lips is only miles away. From the passenger seat, I stare at the sign announcing the upcoming exit, my head tilted back with exhaustion as Rogan drives us to his place. I’m tempted to check in on Paul and his son. I felt in my bones that he was going to be okay after the reading I gave him, but it might not be bad to stop by and see if there’s anything else he needs. I dismiss the curiosity, knowing that my magic isn’t being called to do that. Plus, the last thing I want to do is drop any of my trouble at his door, so I don’t say anything as the arguing in the car ratchets up a notch.
Since I dropped the whole possible collusion bomb, these three have been going at it. They’re not fighting so much as passionately discussing the odds that I could be right or wrong, what either outcome means, pitching other potential scenarios, then playing devil’s advocate about everything and starting it all over again when the possibility of peace and quiet gets too close.
Prek hasn’t said shit about the wholecould be immortalthing. He seems more keyed up about the suggestion that any mancer would ever conspire with a demon, let alone a demon using a witch whose line had been stripped of magic. The whole thing is laughable, and Rogan and Marx argue each side of every scenario so thoroughly that I think they’ve confused themselves at this point.
All I know is that I’m not nearly caffeinated enough for any of this shit. My eyes are scratchy and burning, my body aches, my stomach is pissed that there aren’t more fast food options located on the highway in the middle of nowhere Tennessee. The only thing carrying me through right now is the fact that I’m going to see my little buddy Hoot soon, and then I’m going to jump face-first into the nearest bed and sleep off the death.
Dusk deepens all around us as we go, and it’s making me even sleepier. I immediately sit up and roll my neck, making myself aware of everything around us.
“Just sleep,” Rogan implores me, again. “I can feel your exhaustion; it’s okay to crash for a little while,” he urges.
I stifle a yawn, as riding the ley line again to get here really drained me, but I can’t succumb to the call of sleep just yet.
“I’m fine, it’s not too much longer. I don’t want anyone sneaking up on us while you three wax on and on and on about witch politics and if there’s any major significance to the fact that the skull was anowlskull.” I fake wretch at my words and roll my eyes for good measure.
Rogan reaches over and runs the back of his hand across my cheek. I melt a little inside at the gesture and the way his eyes warm as he looks at me. “It’s been a long day,” he notes, and I don’t know why that simple observation makes me feel like I want to cry.
Ithasbeen a long day, and I know there are many more to come too. Maybe that’s what’s stoking my overly emotional reaction, or maybe I’m just tired and hungry. That’s never a good combo even on the best of days.
“I was thinking,” I start, “before I saw you tranqed on the ground, that it would be good to train each other on one another’s magic. It’s a littlereading each other’s diaries,but it would probably be beneficial to go through our grimoires too. I know we have a million things we need to do to get ready for what’s coming for us, but I think this is important,” I tell him, and he caresses my face once more before dropping his hand to mine and threading our fingers.
“I agree,” he responds, his tone supportive. “I know my aunt’s house is not your favorite place because of what I did there, but I think it would be good to talk to her coven again about everything. When we were there before, we had every intention of severing things between us. Now that things are different, we should try to learn as much as we can.”
I swallow down the hesitancy that creeps into my chest at the mention of his aunt’s coven. He’s right, I know he is, but it feels risky too. “Can we trust her?” I ask, worried that the question might offend him. “She seemed like a lovely person, don’t get me wrong, but she’s your father’s sister. Doesn’t she subscribe to the same toxic crap he does?”
Rogan gives my hand a comforting squeeze. “Not at all. My father hasn’t talked to her since she was a teenager. She was always all about the old ways and the order of things, and that’s clearly not at all what my father was about. I only know about her because my mother used to throw her existence in my father’s face whenever they were arguing. She thought Alora was some kind of blemish on my dad’s magical line.”
I snort incredulously, making it clear just what I think about that, and Rogan lifts an eyebrow in agreement.
“Elon and I met Alora and her coven after we were renounced. It’s why we chose to settle in Tennessee—she gifted Elon and me the land our houses are built on. She took us in when nobody else would. She never even asked us what happened, she said she knew our souls were pure and she’d help us in whatever way she could.”
Once again, I have to blink back the emotion his words stir in me. I hate that he’s had to go through so much, and I’m grateful that at least he and Elon weren’t abandoned by everyone. It’s nice to know that sometimes gooddoesprevail over evil, even though it can be hard to see evidence of that in the world we live in today.
