“Like so many someones,” I correct, a flash of cracking bones and screaming Order members flashing in my mind before I blink and it’s gone. A shiver slithers up my spine, and I reach for the wine. “I couldn’t even get his body. I wanted to, but there wasn’t enough time or enough magic. I just left him back there like he didn’t matter, but he mattered, Tad. He really mattered,” I tell him, drowning my words and pain in more gulps of wine.
“Of course he did, Leonardo. You all survived, and that’s what Marx would have wanted. He would have been annoyed if you died or got caught trying to get his body. He would have been the first to tell you that was stupid.”
I nod at his words, knowing he’s right, but it doesn’t lessen the guilt. I don’t know if anything ever will.
“Were they trying to kill you first?” Tad asks, his head tilted thoughtfully, clearly still stuck on my candid admission to being a murderer.
“Mm-hmmm,” I mumble, my mouth full of more wine that I don’t like but can’t seem to stop drinking.
“Doesn’t count then,” he assures me, as though there’s no way he’ll be convinced that I’m a cold-blooded murderer, no matter what I say. “And you didn’t kill Marx, Len, they killed him. You did everything you could.”
“But he died,” I argue, tears welling in my eyes.
“Because of them,” he repeats, his face softening and his unfocused eyes begging the one and a half mes he sees to hear what he’s saying. “I see the way Rogan looks at you, Lennox, and I guarantee you he doesn’t think there’s a thing wrong with you. Ask him what’s up with blocking the tether, give him a chance to explain what’s going on with him before you jump to the worst conclusion.”
“I will, obviously, but it’s not just him. My magic has been weird since I woke up—the first time. Well, and this time. I don’t know what it is, but I hate it. I was just feeling good about my place in all of this, really finding my stride as a witch, you know? And then I had to die and everything is all messed up…again.”
“If I had a nickel for every time I heard someone complain about dying,” Tad teases,cheersing with the now almost empty bottle of rosé. “I’d have three nickels, two for you, and one for Elon,” he goes on, laughing deeply at his own joke. “Do you think there are other immortals out there besides you guys?” he asks contemplatively.
I shrug and then realize that’s a difficult move to maneuver after too much alcohol. “I mean, probably, there’s so much out there in the world that I never knew was there, why not immortals.”
“How do we find them?” Tad demands, like they’re simply lost.
“Fuck if I know. Maybe I should start carrying around a sword and screamingthere can be only one.They might stop by for a chat then,” I suggest, trying and failing to shrug again, but only one shoulder cooperates.
“I rode a ley line,” Tad announces, his eyes suddenly wide.
“Oohhh nice!” I reach for the bottle and finish it off.
“Totally passed out, that hot dude Cohen had to carry me. I woke up in his arms all damsel-like, and I gotta say, I get the appeal.”
I crack up, and Tad just nods at me fervently. “You’d totally rock a sword P.S.”
“Right? I was just thinking that,” I agree.
There’s a knock on the door, and both Tad and I turn to stare at it. I realize one of us actually has to saycome in, and I start cracking up when neither of us do.
Maybe if Rogan had our tether working, he’d know he can open the door,I think smugly, and then Tad shoutscome in, but it sounds more likecomenuminum.
Rogan pokes his head in, like he’s unsure of what he might find. His eyes land on my face, and I think there’s a flash of relief that I’m no longer bawling hysterically. I wouldn’t know though because the douche is still blocking me.
“Can I have a word with Lennox?” Rogan asks Tad, opening the door wider and stepping in.
Tad shoots me a look like we just got busted, and Rogan’s vibe definitely has ayou’re in troublefeel to it.
“Suuure,” Tad agrees, and then he tries to get up.
Rogan scoops down and helps him get to his feet and then holds him there for a moment until Tad gets his swaying under control. He looks down at me and wags his eyebrows.
“I’m tellin’ ya, these damsels are on to something,” he coos, and I giggle. “I’ll go get more wine, be right back,” he chirps, heading out into the room.
“I’ll bet you five dollars we’ll find him passed out on the stairs in five minutes,” I tell Rogan, laughing at the visual I just conjured of drunk Tad with carpet lines on his face in the morning.
Rogan moves all the way into the bathroom and shuts the door behind him before looking down at me. I fidget under the weight of his stare, not sure what he’s thinking.
“We need to talk,” he starts, and everything inside of me plummets into a pit of despair.
Those four words never mean anything good.
