When she asked about music, I handed her Spotify and watched the obsession take root.
I gave her a few suggestions, but Louie found her own path—female-fronted metal.
Something raw.
Something that thrashes under her skin and bares its teeth.
Her lips move silently, smirking around her fangs, and I grin.
It’s the first thing that’s truly hers. No trace of me, no tether to Hell, no mark of magic. Just Louie. And I love that for her.
My ancient car wheezes into the wrakh’s driveway, rattling ominously before sputtering to a stop. I have no clue what to expect this time. Iain was a complete dick when we were here a few days ago, although it seemed like he warmed up to me toward the end of our meeting.
I steal a glance at Iain’s house. The rubber duck wreath is gone.
In its place is a massive grapevine monstrosity covered in My Little Ponies, each figure haphazardly glued in place. I wonder if they hold some obscure magical purpose. Or is Iain just that fucking strange?
I turn back to Ezra, who gives me a tight-lipped smile. His shadows flicker across his chest, sniffing out trouble.
Not real danger. Just Iain. Which, honestly, is fair.
Still, they’ve met him before. They know he’s a prick, not a threat. So why are they so twitchy?
“I suppose I should take the lead here, although I’m feeling quite out of depth when it comes to you, Aurora.”
“I know the feeling. Maybe Iain’ll give us a few pointers and agree to create the magical wards on your property without being a total prick this time.”
Sure.
And maybe some magical accident will wipe out the Disciples tonight.
We both know Iain will be a total shithead.
Aside from magic, it’s the only thing he seems good at.
Reaching behind me, I tap Louie on the knee, letting her know it’s time to get out.
The second our feet hit the ground, Iain bursts from the house, wrath wrapped in a Care Bears T-shirt and ready to throw hands.
“What the fuckin’ fuck are you doing back already? You’re trespassin’, and I’m one breath away from wakin’ the thing in the well and lettin’ it stretch its legs!”
I blink.
The thing in the well?
What the fuck is in the well? And why the hell does it have legs to stretch?
Of course, he says it like he’s threatening to unleash a guard dog.
Oh, Lorewood. You beautiful bastard.
Iain’s Care Bears T-shirt is so tight I can see the tattoos beneath it, inked along every line of muscle. His basketball shorts hang low, revealing a frankly irresponsible amount of V-line.
Ezra goes rigid beside me, shadows rising like a curtain about to block my view. I elbow him before they can commit whatever possessive nonsense they’re plotting.
And that’s when I notice the scars. Faint but jagged, cutting across the tattoos beneath the fabric and down his legs—evidence of a life that’s been anything but easy. I wonder what terrible things he’s lived through to earn scars like that.
My heart might break for him … if he weren’t the human equivalent of stepping on a LEGO at 3 a.m. on your way to pee.
