That lands like a stone dropped into still water, sending ripples of confusion through my already churning thoughts.
“What do you mean,” I ask slowly, “you didn’t think I was coming?”
Ezra looks away toward the house, like the answer is written somewhere in the peeling paint and crooked shutters. “The council was told no one would claim it.”
“The council,” I repeat, bewildered. “There’s a council?”
Lucien’s laugh is quiet and tinged with old amusement. “There’s always a council.”
Maceo’s hand taps the steering wheel once, a sharp sound in the quiet cab. “Lenora told people you weren’t interested.”
My mouth opens, closes, then opens again as the implications sink in. You’ve got to be kidding me.
“She told people I wasn’t interested,” I repeat slowly, tasting the anger as it builds in my chest. “She told people that I wouldn’t claim my grandmother’s house or the shop.”
Ezra looks back at me, “Yes.”
I swallow hard, processing this information alongside everything else that’s happened today.
My mother and father never talked about Ruby Springs like it was a place they wanted to go back to, even when my mom described it like something out of a dream. My mother specifically never spoke about our family in detail, especially not her older sister. When my grandmother passed away two years ago, it took months for the lawyers to track me down, which seemed strange but not impossible in our age of digital chaos. Now I’m beginning to wonder if that delay was entirely accidental.
Now I’m standing at the gates of my inheritance, and the first thing I learn is that my aunt has been making decisions on my behalf while I was living my perfectly normal humdrum life in New York.
A sharp laugh escapes me, startled and half-hysterical.
“That is remarkably bold.”
Maceo’s smile turns wolfish, showing teeth. “Lenora is many things.”
“That’s a diplomatic way to put it,” Lucien murmurs, and there’s something in his tone that suggests a much longer story.
I look at Maceo, something occurring to me. “So, you all just patrol the roads in a tow truck? Looking for stranded strangers?”
Maceo lifts one broad shoulder like it’s no big deal. “We keep the roads clear. People wander too close sometimes.”
“People,” I echo, skeptical.
“Non-magicals,” Ezra supplies with clinical precision.
A thought nudges at the edge of my mind, puzzle pieces clicking together.
“Ruby Springs is warded so heavily that Google Maps continues to malfunction,” I say slowly, understanding dawning.
Maceo’s grin widens with obvious satisfaction. “Something like that.”
My eyes drop to my dead phone, still clutched uselessly in my hand.
“Of course,” I mutter. “Of course, the one time I actually need technology to function, I get taken out by magical gentrification.”
Lucien’s laugh brushes against my ear, warm and low and doing absolutely inappropriate things to my nervous system.
That laugh does something dangerous to my equilibrium.
I shift uncomfortably, trying to ignore the fact that I’m sitting on him, trying to ignore the fact that he feels like solid heat beneath my entire body. My wet dress clings in all the wrong places. His clothes should be soaked through by now, but he doesn’t seem to care, which is suspiciously attractive behavior.
“Alright.” I push myself into motion before I can overthink it further. “I need to get into my house before I start spiraling in public. It’s now or never,” I mutter, sliding off Lucien’s lap fast enough to regain at least a shred of dignity.
Lucien’s hand lifts away from my waist slowly, like he’s reluctantly letting me go. My boots hit the pavement with a squelch that completely ruins any hope of a graceful exit.
