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“Yes, Baltimore is where Delilah was born back in 1845.” Ten shot Cope a shocked look. “How do you know about the coven?”
“Holy shit,” Cope muttered. “I know that family. Agatha Meehan was friends with my mother. She would come to NOLA every year to celebrate Samhain, along with about ten other witches from around the country. They would share spells and drink homemade sangria from my mother’s cauldron. Agatha taught me how to read tarot. My mother had been trying to teach me for ages and it just wasn’t sticking, but whatever Agatha did worked.”
“It turns out the incident at the Salem Witch Board Museum the other night had to do with Delilah Meehan’s spirit being trapped in a board and had been inadvertently freed.”
“Holy shit!” Cope said again.
“Believe it or not, that’s not the biggest headline here.” Ten snickered, as Cope’s eyes widened.
“If that’s not the big story, what the hell is?”
“Delilah told us that she’s Aurora’s great-grandmother several times removed.” Ten grinned at an obviously awe-struck Cope.
“Oh, wow.” Cope shook his head and took a seat on Ten’s steps. “The Meehan family are the strongest witches that have ever come out of Ireland. Their power rivaled my mother’s coven.” Cope sat silently for a few seconds. “Fitz, if it turns out that Aurora is this generation’s witch, I’d be happy to work with her, under your guidance, of course. Madam Aurora will also be a big help. Girl witches are different than boy witches and she’ll need some extra guidance in that area.”
“My head is still spinning and not just from Jude punching me. We’ll sit down and figure this all out. I have a feeling Delilah isn’t finished speaking through Aurora.”
“That’s a good bet,” Ten agreed. “Now, is everyone okay here? No one’s angry at anyone or wants to punch anyone?”
“I mean, I’d love to punch Ronan’s lights out too, but that’s more of an everyday thing, rather than an isolated incident.”
Ten snickered. “If that’s the case, can you hold off until after Halloween? If Ronan can’t eat his peanut butter cups, he’ll be a bear to live with.”
“No promises!” Jude grinned and took Cope’s hand. “I’ve got a little excess testosterone to burn off. What do you say we head home.”
“My husband, the caveman.” Cope rolled his eyes, but followed Jude across the street.
“TMI,” Ten grimaced, watching them go. “You’re okay?” he asked Fitz.
“I feel like I have a new lease on life.” Fitz held his hand out to Ten. “How do I ever thank you?”
“With a pecan pie. That you sneak to me under the cover of night, so Ronan doesn’t know I have it.”
Fitz chuckled. “I can do that.”
“Seriously though, you don’t need to thank me. We’re family. Taking care of each other is what we do. How many times have you been there for me when Ronan was hurt or being a dumbass?”
“More than I can count,” Fitz admitted.
“Why don’t you head home, clean up and get some rest. Join us for dinner around six. I’ll throw a roast in the crockpot with potatoes and carrots. Deal?”
“Deal.” With a smile on his face, Fitz walked toward his house.
As Ten watched him go, he couldn’t help but think about this turn of events. He’d known there was going to be something special with Aurora, but hadn’t known if it would be gifts like his own or something else. Being a legacy witch, like Cope’s mother, Elizabeth Devereaux, was not even remotely on his radar.
Surprises were the biggest gift in life and this one was huge.
9
Ronan
After dinner, where Ten’s pot roast scored rave reviews, they’d all watched Hocus Pocus together as a family. Fitzgibbon laughed along with everyone else and seemed to be in high spirits, in spite of his black eye and split lip. Ronan hoped this truly was the end of the Kevin Fitzgibbon Guilt Trip. He supposed only time would tell.
The kids had gone to bed after watching one episode of Halloween Baking Championship. They’d both loved the gnarly looking cakes the contestants had made. Ronan had to admit, he did too. Maybe he’d order a cake like that for their Halloween party.
Ronan was in the middle of a dream where he was being given a sponge bath by a horde of men wearing only witches hats and leather underwear, when a loud noise brought him back to consciousness. He looked at the alarm clock to see it was half past twelve. The loud noise was his ringing phone. Cisco’s name was on the display. “O’Mara,” Ronan said, before yawning.
“We’ve had another incident on Essex Street,” Cisco said, his voice low.
