“The fuck?” Nick mumbles.
Rachel staggers to her feet, shakes her head, and takes off running. Charles opens the back door to the SUV for her and they take off, peeling out of the driveway so fast gravel flies up behind them.
I let my hand drop and turn to Gemma. “Are you okay?”
“Me? Yeah, I’m fine. You’re bleeding.”
“It’s just a scratch from gravel in the driveway.”
“Let me clean it up. The last thing you need is an infection on your pretty face.”
Gemma closes the book, nostrils flared, and hurries into the kitchen to grab the first aid kit. I take another lingering look out at the yard and then close the door, shooting the deadbolt into place.
“Nick,” I start, and take a step into the foyer.
He quickly steps back, eyes wide. “W-what the h-hell was that?” he stammers. He looks at me and then blinks rapidly, shaking his head. “I’m dreaming. This isn’t real. That wasn’t…how the fuck did she force us to the ground? And you…you and that other…this isn’t real.”
“I thought the same thing when I saw magic for the first time,” I say gently. Mentally, I’m cursing up a storm that would put a foul-mouthed sailor to shame. Nick wasn’t supposed to know about my reasons for wanting the files, let alone see me do magic.
“Magic?”
“We’re witches,” Gemma says, coming into the foyer again. She offers Nick an apologetic shrug. “And that girl on the porch was a witch too.”
Nick holds out his hand, looking a little pale. “No. Magic isn’t real. Ace…you…no. You prove magic isn’t real. Fuck, have you been lying and covering up the whole time?”
I motion to the couch in the front sitting room. “Take a seat. This is a lot to process.”
“Shit. You have been lying.” He brings his hand to his forehead.
“No, not the whole time.”
Nick walks into the sitting room but doesn’t take a seat on the couch. “And you.” He looks at Gemma. “You’re that girl Ace saved from the serial killer.”
“Yeah. The one who went after witches.” I sit on the couch, hoping he’ll do the same. Gemma puts the first aid kit on the coffee table and pulls out an alcohol wipe.
“He was after witches.Realwitches.”
“Not all were real in this sense,” I say, holding still as Gemma wipes my forehead. It stings more than I thought.
“What does that even mean?”
Fuck. I wish memory-wiping spells were something I was well versed in. “Some people practice witchcraft as more or less a religion. And some people are born with powers that have nothing to do with religion. You can’t help it any more than you can help being born with brown or blonde hair.”
“And you…you were born with powers?”
Gemma puts a bandage on my forehead, which I’ll be taking off in just a few minutes. I look at Nick, eyebrows pinching together. “Yes.”
“Shit,” he mumbles, and finally sinks onto the couch. “Shit.”
“Yeah…it’s a lot to take in. Want some water or something?” I ask, noting that he’s paling even more now.
“No…I’m…I’m…I have no idea.”
“It’s a lot to take in,” Gemma says softly. “I was stunned too when I met Ace, and I grew up believing in magic.”
Nick squeezes his eyes shut, rubs his forehead again, and then springs up. “Those people. They…they attacked us! We have to call this in, Ace.”
“We can’t,” I press. “You saw what happened. If we send anyone else after them, we’ll put them at risk. Rachel is powerful. Whatever spell she was casting was strong.” I take a breath, trying to recall what she was saying. “Dammit, I can’t remember what she was saying.”
