He was met with the sight of Trace standing in the doorway to his room, leaning against it casually and nearly filling it entirely with his gigantic body.
Trace was a sight to be seen, for sure. He looked like the president of a motorcycle club, his dark hair pulled into a ponytail at the nape of his neck, tattoos covering every inch of visible skin the scars weren’t reigning over, a permanent scowl etched into his forehead.
And a set of knitting needles in his hands with a ball of fluffy yarn sticking out of his pocket. Not even a deadly curse could keep Trace from his project.
“I didn’t call a family meeting.” Teddy frowned.
“No. No, you did not. And that, in itself, is a problem.”
“What—?”
“We’re waiting for you in the living room. Come down whenever.” Trace left after that, his footsteps silent despite his size.
Teddy dragged a hand over his face and looked around the room in confusion.
He acted as the unofficial head of their team. As an interpersonal curse specialist, people were kind of his thing. He gelled well with them, he knew them, and so he took on the role of leading the team, making sure everyone felt settled and seen.
Family meetings had been his idea. He’d implemented them to touch base with everyone and be in the know about how they were doing with the massive number of cases they were buried under constantly. It was easier to solve a problem at its root then wait for a whole weed to grow.
This…this felt like the rug was being pulled from underneath his feet when he hadn’t even got upright yet after seeing Wren.
Was he the weed?
He stood up and brushed his hands over his knitted blue jumper and jeans to straighten them out a bit before walkingout of his room. He headed down the wide, palazzo-style hallway that all their bedrooms opened onto and took the spiral staircase down, his footsteps echoing.
He heard their hushed voices before he entered the large, bright living room with floor-to-ceiling windows that arched at the top and a gigantic round sofa upholstered in white in the middle.
A sofa that held his entire team and was shadowed by a large banner in various shades of beige.
“This isn’t a family meeting,” he said, staring at the banner.
“Clearly.” Trace pointed to a chair positioned in a gap in the circle of the sofa. A convict’s chair. Facing his judge and jury.
“I don’t need an intervention,” he said, his voice taking on an edge he didn’t like hearing. But he was caught off guard. And hurt.
“That’s what I said,” Echo said from the right side of the sofa, sitting with their knees up, wrapped in a knitted beige cardigan that swallowed their small frame.
“You made the banner.” Teddy pointed to the thing with the wordINTERVENTIONhanging above their heads.
“I was forced into it.” Echo’s light brown hair quivered where it fell over their forehead and brows, nearly covering their brown eyes. “My life was on the line.”
“Nobody’s life was on the line,” Trace said, exasperated.
“He stole my medication!” Echo pointed to their left and Teddy followed the accusing finger toward the other side of the sofa.
“I did no such thing,” Eerie said, long legs crossed, pointed stilettos on his feet, a cobalt blue blouse with a large bow tied around his neck catching the afternoon sun. His jet-black hair was sleek and perfectly styled, his dark eyes expertly lined with sharp flicks.
“You are literally holding them in your hand,” Echo said. “Watching me as I wither away.”
“They’re vitamin gummies,” Heir said, leaning back on the sofa with his legs crossed in front of him and his hands relaxed on his washboard stomach. “Settle down, Pill Dispenser.”
“I’ll settle into my grave before my time, and you’ll all be sorry then.” Echo glared at them all.
“Give them here,” Saint said to his twin, extending his hand toward Eerie and wiggling his fingers with a gentle smile. Eerie sneered but placed the little plastic box on Saint’s palm, manicured nails scratching along the side of it as he let go.
Saint stood up from where he was sitting on the floor beside his brother’s legs and walked over to Echo.
“Here we go,” he said with a soft smile, placing the box gently into Echo’s hand when they stuck it out of their cardigan. They popped the box open and threw a gummy into their mouth, visibly relaxing while they chewed.
