12
“Magical children?” I echo, a nasty feeling forming in the pit of my stomach.
“I’m sorry, Ace,” Jacques says softly, and I know exactly what he’s apologizing for. If the demon was going after magical children, then my parents’ death was one hundred percent my fault.
“What makes you think that?” Gil questions, face paling a bit. He feels bad for me too. I don’t like pity. It does no good and is a waste of time.
“When Ace said her parents would stop at nothing for her, it got me thinking.” He points to something on one of the case files. “She was a mother.” He flips a page. “He was a father of twins.” He pulls up another file, which has a newspaper clipping stapled to it. “And she worked with orphaned children. If there was a connection between the victims, Ace would have found it by now.”
“What about the latest victims?” Gemma asks, looking more and more nervous.
“Nothing was mentioned in that article, but the officer from Lebanon who I talked to said that couple practically raised their nephew. Oh my God! Is he in danger?”
“I would assume so.”
“What do I do?” I ask, on the verge of panicking. “Drive there overnight? Then what? Tell the kid he has to come with me because the demon that killed his aunt and uncle is going to come after him?”
“Do you know where or who he is?” Gil asks.
I shake my head. “I can find out.”
“A protection spell,” Gemma interjects. “We can do that now. Who knows if he’s still even…you know. But a spell will be faster than trying to drive.”
“I agree.” Jacques turns his gaze to me. “Can you get a name and photograph of the boy?”
“Probably. He’s fifteen, so I’m sure he’s on social media. Give me a few minutes.” I hurry out of the room, waving for Tom and Hasan to follow me so I can fill them in while I search the internet for an image of the boy.
The Wi-Fi is so fucking slow out here, but I do find this kid’s Instagram account. Evan Bradley isn’t your normal kid. He seems a tad dark, and if emo were still a thing, that’s exactly what I’d call him.
I read through the captions on his photos while his profile photo prints. It sounds like both of his parents are in the Army, and instead of moving around with them, he was staying with his aunt and uncle in their hometown to finish high school.
“I hate to ask,” Thomas starts, coming up behind me as I wait by the printer in the library. It’s wireless and I had to bring my computer in here next to it to be able to get the fucking thing to work. Living in a century-old house outside of city limits sounds fun until you need to do some fast internet stalking.
“Ask what?”
“If the demon killed the guardians of magical children, wouldn’t that imply said guardians knew and had magical abilities of their own?”
His question is logical but still catches me off guard. “Yeah, that actually makes sense. Because Evan wasn’t with his aunt and uncle while they were hiking. They couldn’t have protected him if a demon attacked unless…”
“Unless they had some sort of protection spell in place,” Thomas finishes.
“So that would mean my own parents knew.”
Thomas’s large hand lands on my shoulder. The warmth from his skin soaks through the thin material of my shirt. He splays his fingers and my eyes fall shut. What I’d give to have him sweep me off my feet and fly up to the bedroom. He’d make me come in minutes, and I’d leave all my worries behind.
But I can’t.
“Maybe they were waiting until you were older to tell you,” he suggests. “Or knew that being a witch put you in certain danger and they didn’t want that life for you?”
The printer finally catches a good enough signal and starts printing the image of Evan.
“Yeah. I guess.” I squeeze my eyes shut, trying to remember my mother’s face and the sound of her voice. I wish I could summon her again. “But after my parents died, no one came after me. Wouldn’t a protection spell die with my mother?”
“That’s a question for Jacques to answer, but from what I’ve seen and read over the years…yes.”
“My aunt,” I say, turning to look at Thomas. “She obviously knew magic. She kept this house safe and in good condition. She’s the one who left it to me, after all.” I bring my hand to my head, rubbing my temples. “It’s so much.”
“Hey,” Thomas says, stepping closer. He wraps one arm around me and pulls me into an embrace. I let out a deep sigh and rest my head against his firm chest. “You’ve got us. We’ll protect you.”
