“I got him,” he calls over his shoulder, and then he heads out, shutting the door behind him.
I sigh and rub at my face with my hands. There’s just never an end to the bullshit. Rogan pulls me back against him, and I go willingly.
“I know it’s hard, but Elon’s right,” I tell Rogan as he wraps his arms around me. “This might be the thing that tips the scales, and we need that now more than ever,” I admit, hating how true it is. I know that video footage is going to be brutal for Rogan, for all of us, but we need all the help we can get. “Is it too late to go back to bed?” I ask, and his deep chuckle vibrates through me.
“If only there wasn’t a war to fight,” Rogan declares, but it makes my face fall.
“I don’t want to be the Debbie Downer here, I really don’t, but how the hell are we going to win a war when we couldn’t even win the battle?” I point out to Rogan.
He turns me in his arms, his eyes soft and his touch gentle. “We just have to figure out how to outsmart them, out fight them, out manipulate them, and hit ’em where it hurts,” he tells me confidently.
I shake my head, but I can’t fight the smile that sneaks across my face. “Oh, is that all?” I tease, and he nods as though it’s that easy.
The doorbell rings and we both look over at the front door.
“But...” Rogan starts as he moves to answer it. “First, we have to fix our magic.”
19
Istir the coffee in my cup, the spoon obnoxiously loud in the quiet room, and I barely stop myself from shushing it. Alora, Rogan’s aunt, looks at me, her smile polite, but there’s a tightness to her gaze that wasn’t there the first time I met her. She’s still immaculately put together and would give any old Hollywood leading lady a run for their money. Today, she’s draped in a deep royal blue sweater with a long cowl neck, and her leather pants fit like a second skin. She has boots on with a vicious-looking spiked heel, and finger waves in her raven black hair.
Alora’s husband, Dave, looks happy and carefree to her right, and her wife, Harmony, has a contemplative gaze that bounces around the long table we’re sitting at in the formal living room. Harmony runs a hand over her light blonde, slicked back, ballerina bun. It’s the second time she’s done it, and I categorize it as a nervous gesture. I want to offer her some reassurance, but I have no idea what’s made her uneasy in the first place, so I’m pretty much shit out of luck until someone starts talking.
Alora, however, doesn’t seem to be in any rush. Her dark gray eyes track Rogan in the kitchen as he fills three tea cups with water straight from a whistling kettle. He sets them carefully on a tray with a plate of cookies and any other tea-making necessities his three guests may require. He starts to carry the tray over to where we’re seated, and I return my gaze to the three witches sitting on the other side of the table.
When Rogan told me that he had contacted his aunt about our tether, I had assumed we’d get a phone call or perhaps an email. I didn’t expect that they’d drop everything to come here and speak to us in person. The fact that they did makes me even more nervous for whatever is going on with the tether—that and there’s a palpable strain at this table, and it’s making me fidgety as hell.
Rogan doles out teacups and saucers and then sits next to me as his aunts and uncle make themselves the perfect cuppa. He drops a hand to my thigh and gives it a little squeeze. Unfortunately because our tether is broken and we’ve never been in a position like this before, I can’t tell if the thigh squeeze is an attempt at reassurance or a signal to buckle up because shit’s going to get bumpy.
A smile ticks at Dave’s mouth across from me, and I once again debate whether or not he can read my mind. I’m tempted to think about a bunch of obscure amusing crap and then gauge his response to it in order to see if I can test thismind readertheory once and for all. But this conversation is important, so I probably shouldn’t be reciting Ali Wong bits in my mind while it’s happening, just to see if he’ll laugh.
“I want to thank you for coming out to see us on such short notice,” Rogan tells them, and they each smile at him warmly.
Then all of a sudden, his Aunt Alora drops her smile and levels him with a look that makes even Rogan squirm. “Rogan, we’re absolutely delighted to be here and that you called us for help. We hope you know that we will always be here for you whenever you need it. With that being said, what happened in our home the last time you visited was unacceptable.”
Rogan drops his head as though it’s suddenly heavy with shame, and it isn’t until Alora looks at me that I realize the unacceptable thing that happened was Rogan betraying me. She turns to me and squares her shoulders.
“Osteomancer Osseous, we know this kind of apology requires much more than just words, but we hope you will accept them along with our most heartfelt and deepest apologies for what occurred when you last visited our home. Had we known what was going to happen, we would have protected you at all cost. You were an invited guest under our roof, and that is not something I or my coven takes lightly. We would like to extend to you the same vow of protection my coven has offered our nephews. We hope that you know that you are always welcome in our home and among us, and we will ensure your safety and comfort at all times when you are in our presence or under our roof in the future.”
The three witches stare at me, their eyes filled with apology and regret and hope that I’ll find it in my heart to forgive them. My instinct is to tell them it’s fine and that it wasn’t their fault, because it wasn’t. But there’s a deeper code here, something more rooted in the times of our ancestors, when covens relied on allies and made deals or traded provisions or goods with one another.
So I give the ardent apology the care and thoughtful attention it deserves. I consider Alora’s words on behalf of not just her but her coven. Walking into this, I didn’t feel the need for an apology. I didn’t hold them responsible, I still don’t, but the fact that they do, touches me.
I offer Alora a warm smile, and her shoulders immediately relax a little, some of the tension bleeding out of them immediately. “Thank you. I don’t blame you or your coven for what happened. It all worked out for the best, but it means a lot to me to know that I’ll be welcome and safe with you and your coven in the future. I appreciate that more than you know. You all are always welcome at my house too, same rules apply. Well, when I have a house, that is. I’m sort of in between residences at the moment, and then there’s this whole war, but you know what I mean,” I tell them, internally facepalming when I start to nervously ramble.
So close, Lennox. So damn close to owning the whole mature Osteomancer vibe.
The smiles that cross the faces of the three witches across from me are blinding. Just like that, all the anxiety and nerves in the room dissipate, and everyone takes a deep relaxing breath.
“Excellent,” Dave announces, looking around at all of us with a delighted grin. “Now, what seems to be the issue with your tether?” he asks as he folds his hands in front of him like he’s eager to solve our problem.
Alora grabs a large satchel from the floor and begins to pull things out of it. She sets a large stone bowl on the table. Next to that, she adds glass bottles of various liquids and herbs, a stem of thorns, a thin wooden spoon, and a pile of crisp white rags. When it seems the bag is finally empty, Harmony takes it and hangs it from the back of her chair while she and Alora organize the small apothecary shop they just unpacked.
Rogan clears his throat and reaches over to take my hand. Instead of the gesture helping me to relax, it hypes up my anxiety instead. “I know we’ve never gone into details about what happened with me and Elon and why we were renounced, but in order to explain what’s going on, I’m going to need to,” he starts, a pointed look fixed on his Aunt Alora.
“No need, Rogan, I’ve known from the beginning what happened. You mattered more to me than your ability, and therefore I never felt the need to discuss it,” Alora declares, and Rogan nods like this doesn’t surprise him.
I look to Dave, who gives me a cheeky wink, and my suspicions deepen. Rogan made it seem like his aunt wasn’t big into details about his story, mine, or even ours, but I don’t think that’s the case at all. I think her mind reading husband gives her an inside look at things, and because of that, she’s never really had to pry.
