Page 75 of Haunt Me, Maybe

But I had no plans to continue the banter. I needed to focus on survival. On how to defeat Gideon. Not on the way Wes’s voice had dropped when he said control. Or on the way my thighs were still locked in anticipation.

“Right,” I said, clearing my throat. “So what’s next?”

Control, Fenn repeated, pointedly. Which, at present, neither of you are demonstrating.

I shot Wes a look, and he gave me a smile that was anything but innocent.

These next few days will require discipline, Fenn continued. But we can start with stabilization.

Right. Stabilization. Meaning I needed to suppress my magic, even when I was calm. The word tasted wrong. Suppress. Ugh, it felt like swallowing something with thorns. After being able to cast illusions somewhat freely for the first time in years, I hated to shove it all back inside.

Stop making that face. This is supposed to be easy! Fenn hopped closer, and I felt him looking down his snout at me in exasperation. You are not shrinking but smoothing. You must round the edges of your magic so nothing catches on it.

I went very still. Goddess, I always tried to shrink. To soften my glow before I was told to. To dim before someone decided it was too dangerous. But this…this wasn’t about becoming smaller. It was about being deliberate. Fenn wanted me to shine with all my glory, but through an intentional filter.

I knew Wes watched me. He didn’t speak, but I felt the way he went preternaturally quiet. Like he was bracing without wanting me to notice. I closed my eyes, and the attic wrapped around me in a familiar quiet, only the faint whisper of a draft and a couple of creaks. Magic stirred beneath my skin, still slightly charged from Wes’s proximity, but it felt spiky and rough.

Like it didn’t want to be handled. It flared when I attempted to wrangle it, and I opened my eyes in time to see Fenn swallow the unexpected burst.

That, Fenn said sharply. Is exactly the problem.

Dammit! I was too wound up. I glared at Wes again. It was his dang fault I was so flustered. That infuriating smirk slipped once he noticed his teasing wasn’t helping. He reached out, offering his hand so he could ground me, but Fenn stopped him with a sharp whack to the ankle with his tongue.

If she can’t learn to stabilize herself without you, then she will never be ready to face Gideon. You won’t always be there.

Wes didn’t like the sound of that. And to be honest, neither did I. So caught up in our connection, I hadn’t much thought about what casting my magic would be like without him there. Impossible probably. But I guess that was why we were doing this—for me to learn how to stand on my own.

“What about lures instead?” Wes asked, after my latest attempt at stabilization fizzled into nothing.

Fenn rolled his eyes so dramatically I was surprised he didn’t flip right over.

That comes last, he said, gaze sharp. A lure is an invitation. It’s a planted suggestion that needs to feel like a discovery rather than bait and she’s not ready.

My stomach knotted. It couldn’t be much different from casting an illusion, could it? Illusions were at least familiar territory. This stabilization nonsense felt like trying to smooth out smoke with my bare hands.

“What would this planted suggestion look like?” I asked

Fenn didn’t answer. Instead, he looked at Wes. The air shifted. The wards buzzed and the lamp gave a nervous flicker. Wes understood before I did.

“No,” he said, flatly.

Fenn thumped his back foot against the desk in defiance. I looked between them, completely lost. What the hell was going on? There was an entire conversation happening without words, and I had the sinking feeling I wasn’t included.

“No, what?” I asked.

Fenn scooched his little butt around until he fully faced Wes, tiny body squared and dark eyes unblinking. He didn’t elaborate, only pressed forward with sheer force of will and a glower.

“He means me,” Wes replied, matching Fenn’s energy.

“I don’t und⁠—”

“He wants me to be the lure. Not you. That’s what he meant by discovery rather than bait.”

The words didn’t land at first. It took a heartbeat, then two, before I got it, and Fenn’s silence was all the confirmation I needed. He wanted Wes to risk his life—his existence—to draw Gideon in and distract him. My breath went thin, and it was my turn to glare.

I could never ask Wes to do that. What if I wasn’t strong enough? What if I hesitated? What if, in the moment that mattered most, I failed?

This was my burden to carry, and I refused to gamble with Wes’s afterlife.