“Yeah, well, the people who grow up and live around you power wielders, they pay attention, take notes, share experiences and knowledge with others like us. Probably more than Mancers or other powerful beings realize,” he admits. “Just because we aren’t ultimately chosen doesn’t mean we’re any less a part of your world. We grow up knowing about it, affected by it, and we talk.”
“Do your friends know about me and Rogan?” I press as I flip my head forward and fluff my hair, thinking through what he said about demons and their motivations.
“No. I like to gossip, but I protect family secrets. You being tethered to the renounced heir of the High Priestess is about as juicy as it fucking gets, and that’s before the whole immortal part of your story kicks in,” he declares, circling a finger in my direction. “That stays under lock and key as far as I’m concerned. Knowing that kind of shit gets you killed.”
Reflexively I cringe, not only from the cold truth in that last statement but also because I keep waiting for Hillen to pop up out of nowhere and get on us about our language. “Is your mom going to be back soon? I keep thinking she’s going to walk in and have a conniption, either about the number of times you just saidshitin the last two minutes or because I’m standing right here, not dead, like she thinks I am.”
I turn the diffuser off and put it back in the drawer.
“Fuck, what time is it?” Tad yelps, leaping off the covered toilet and pulling his phone from his pocket to check the time. “Shit, she’s going to ream me. I was supposed to pick her up half an hour ago. Fuck my life.”
I hear him try to call her, but it goes straight to voicemail.
“Dammit, her phone must be dead. Let’s go,” he calls over his shoulder as he races out of the bathroom.
“I can’t,” I call after him, and he spins to look at me confused. “First off, I don’t think the car is the best place to have asurprise, I’m not deadreunion with your mom. She’s going to freak the fuck out, and it’s probably better to do that here, rather than out there,” I explain, jerking my chin at the light on the other side of the curtained window in the guest room. “Secondly, I don’t know how smart it is for me to be riding around in public like I’m not supposed to be dead. I need to keep that on the DL for, like, ever, or until I talk to Rogan at least.”
“Right, yeah, that makes sense,” Tad agrees.
“You don’t happen to have his number, do you?” I gesture awkwardly to the phone clutched tightly in his palm.
He looks down at it sheepishly. “I did. But...I might have deleted it after the wholeit’s my fault she diedthing.”
“It wasn’t his fault,” I argue, uneasy with the thought that Rogan thinks that, let alone wants anyone else to.
“If you say so,” he relents easily. “Ma has it. I’ll get it from her if she doesn’t kill me for forgetting to get her. She only reminded me like a thousand times not to forget.”
I wince, knowing he’s about to get chewed out within an inch of his life. A pissed Hillen is a Hillen you don’t want to fuck with. “Run,” I encourage, my tone amused but the look in my eyes dead serious.
Tad gulps audibly, and I can see hesitancy in his face. He doesn’t want to leave me. My heart warms, and I swallow back the emotion that climbs into my throat.
“I’ll be here when you get back,” I reassure him. “I’m not going anywhere.”
He blinks away some welling tears and nods, pulling me in for a quick hug before taking off. I can’t help but giggle as he sprints down the hallway and out the front door. I fully crack up when the sprinklers turn on just as he sets foot on the lawn. He screams, high pitched and frantic, as he races through the spattering onslaught to where his Prius is parked in the driveway. The car putters away from the house and down the street, and I swear Hillen must be sending some serious bad juju Tad’s way—the timing of the sprinklers was entirely too perfect to be a coincidence.
Letting the curtain of the window I’m peeking out fall closed, I head back to the kitchen for some water. Man, resurrection sure makes a girl thirsty. I gulp down two glasses, my thoughts wandering and flitting around the question of what to do now. Instead of reflecting on anything useful, anxiety directs my focus to Rogan.
What will he say when he answers his phone to find me on the other end of the line? We said a lot of things to each other when we both thought I was dying. What if he didn’t mean it? What if his words were expressed only to console and ease my suffering and imminent passing? He could hate me for Elon. Even if his brother somehow came back too, I couldn’t stop his suffering. I sure as fuck didn’t figure out the blood magic loophole fast enough to save him from more pain and death. There could be some harbored resentment for that.
A resigned sigh spills out of me as all kinds of worse case scenarios flash through my mind. My gut’s telling me I’m being an idiot, but that doesn’t do much to calm the anxiety and guilt that starts to surge inside of me as all kinds ofwhat ifsswirl around my head like a cyclone.
I lean against the counter and try to get a hold of my runaway worries. Logically I know it’s stupid to freak out about this. I have bigger worries hanging over my head. This high schoolbut does he like mecrap needs to fuck off, but instead, it seems to roost in my chest, pecking at me until it’s all I can focus on.
A pounding knock comes from the front door, the loud sound startling. I turn to stride into the living room to see who it might be when I hear the heavy door open.
What the hell?
“Mrs. Osseous? Tad? I’m sorry for barging in. I know I’m the last person you want to see, but we have a situation,” a booming voice calls into the house.
I freeze in the entryway of the kitchen when the deep, commanding voice reaches me. My feet and body just up and stop moving as the front door clicks shut and a large frame comes into view. I stop breathing as moss-green eyes land on mine. They widen with stunned confusion, and just like me, he goes still.
One second passes.
He takes me in as though he’s trying to understand how I’m standing right in front of him. I can’t breathe.
Two seconds go by.
My throat tightens with all the things I want to say. My lips part, readying themselves for the rush of what needs to be explained, but nothing comes out.
