A flash of concern crosses Callum’s face, like he’s realizing the weight of all those unanswered questions, too.
“Come on, it’s not too much farther,” I say before either of us can open a can of worms that doesn’t need opening tonight.
Besides, after just a few more steps, we’ve got bigger problems.
As soon as I crack the first ward, something falls from a tree above us.
No, not just something.
Dozens of somethings.
Drifting down like snow all around the clearing, small iridescent bubbles pour from the treetops.
They’d almost be pretty if, you know, they weren’t probably put there by a bunch of witches pissed off I keep making them recast their wards.
I barely make it two steps back, and only choke out a single syllable of a warning to Callum before the first bubble pops.
I can’t move.
My feet root themselves to the earth, and all my muscles lock up. I can still move my eyeballs, can still cry out, but other than that, I’m fucked.
Beside me, Callum is, too.
The magick isn’t all that different from the spell I used on him the night we met, and I hope to the Goddess it wears off just as quickly. At least before any vengeful coven witches show up and take us down to their dungeon.
“Seren, wait!”
“Not like I really have a choice,” I call to the familiar voice echoing through the trees.
Out of all the witches who could have been behind this, I suppose I should be thankful it’s my twin, but it’s hard to remember that considering how fucking annoyed I am.
Soleil bursts into the clearing, and has the good grace to look at least a little ashamed when she spots me and Callum.
“Sorry,” she mutters, reaching into her pocket, pulling out a spray bottle, and aiming it at my face. “Gonna attack me if I give you the counter-spell?”
“I haven’t decided yet,” I say through my teeth.
“Just… hear me out?”
“Fine,” I huff. “Do it. Callum, too.”
“Close your eyes.”
I obey, and a cool mist kisses my face. A heartbeat later, the paralysis has melted away. She does Callum next, and by the time we’ve both regained the use of our bodies, I’m about ready to go back on my promise not to curse her.
“Sorry,” she says again, running a hand through wind-tangled hair. “I just didn’t know how to stop you so I could talk to you before you left.”
“And out of all the options you had, this was the one you went with?”
She scoffs. “Oh, please enlighten me. What would have been better? Asking you nicely to stay for a damn second to talk? Because that’s worked so well the last few times I’ve tried it?”
I let out a long breath, because I really don’t have anything to say to that.
Never would have expected to be at a point where my own sister felt like she had to curse me into having a simple conversation.
But here we are.
No point arguing it, so I try to poke a different sore spot.
