‘I’m only going to ask you once,’ she replied. ‘But did you bang my brother?’
‘Lydia!’
‘Did you make out with him?’
‘We both almost died and you’re asking if we kissed?’
‘Gonna need verbal confirmation,’ she said, arms folded across her chest. ‘You forget, I know him. He can be very charming when he wants to be.’
‘Not that charming,’ I assured her. ‘No, I didn’t bang your brother. No, we did not make out. We went to the party, we talked, we danced, we battled a mystical creature, and all the way through, he was a perfect gentleman.’
I poked at a piece of extra crispy bacon, knowing Ashley had cooked it just the way I liked, but my appetite was completely MIA.
‘I’m sorry,’ I said. ‘I should’ve called you or messaged as soon as I woke up, but I don’t even remember going to bed.’
Lydia frowned. ‘The bed you shared with my brother.’
‘He slept on the floor.’ I pointed at the pile of pillows and blankets. ‘Lyds, listen to me, I would never.’
After one very long moment, her eyes searing into me, she relented.
‘Fine, I believe you,’ she said, stuffing his jacket into her tote. ‘Thanks for saving his life, I guess. I might need that kidney someday. How dumb does a boy have to be to leap in front of a werewolf?’
‘If anyone is to blame here, it’s me,’ I replied. ‘He was only trying to help.’
‘He was only trying to get into your pants,’ she muttered under her breath, and for a second it looked as though she was going to say something else but changed her mind.
‘Well, while you were running around not banging my brother, I was going through a bunch of family records and ancestry stuff,’ she said. ‘And I’m pretty sure I found the last Powell witch.’
My breath caught in my throat. Lydia in a white gown, begging me to end her life, the dagger in my hand. I fought to keep my face neutral.
‘Really?’
‘Really. I have a few more things I want to check out, but can we get together and look at it?’
‘Sure,’ I managed to say, the smell of the food in my room suddenly making me nauseous.
‘Awesome.’
She shoved everything down into the bottom of her tote bagand flashed me a smile. ‘Our mom should be arriving soon. She’ll probably want to catch up with me and Jackson, get dinner or something. You should come over tomorrow morning and meet her, we can talk after.’
I nodded, following her out of my room and down the stairs, the foyer floor cool under my injured feet, my bare legs prickling. The silk walls shifted from a pale pink to a soft coral and the front door opened without waiting for Lydia to reach for the handle.
‘I’m glad you’re both OK.’
She hugged me tight, the throbbing pulse in her neck pressed against mine, and the sight of her throat torn open, blood gushing, assaulted me once again.
‘And I’m so glad you didn’t bang Jackson.’
‘Said the classiest girl who ever lived.’
Her brother leaned against the staircase, his forehead creased with disapproval.
Lydia replied with a sweet smile and a middle finger held aloft.
‘See you back at the house,’ she called as she skipped out the front door. ‘No way I’m walking down the street with you in that shirt.’
The door closed itself and I turned back to him, inviting Jackson into the parlour with a tilt of my head. In my too tight T-shirt, six-pack peeking out the bottom, fabric straining over his biceps and triceps, he looked just as comfortable as he had in a tux.
