Our flirty teasing felt good, though—almost as if we’d broken through another one of the walls between us.
Not that I was ready to pick out china patterns or anything.
The brush of Asher’s fingers on the back of my neck recaptured my attention. His touch was unexpected but not unpleasant, and I waited a beat before facing him, worried the movement would make him stop.
When I finally turned, he caught me in his gaze. This time neither of us looked away.
Tell me about her,I wanted to say.The woman who haunts you. The ghost that put that look in your eyes…
But I couldn’t bring myself to ask about her, and after another beat, he blinked and looked away.
“What do you want to do about the witches?” he asked. His tone was serious again, but his touch remained gentle, his thumb stroking the side of my neck.
What did Iwantto do? That was easy. Grab the keys to Asher’s bike and ride out to the coast, blast apart every hole and haunt and hovel until we found that bastard. Then I’d rip out his throat.
But going off half-cocked wouldn’t help anyone. Even if what I’d seen in the vision was real—and that was a big if—there was no guarantee it wasn’t a setup. The only thing I really knew about Reva was that Norah had taken her in when she’d had nowhere else to go. Whatever its motivation, kindness like that usually bred loyalty, especially in a city like the Bay.
I should know. That’s how I’d ended up with my rebels.
If Ronan or Darius were accused of murdering innocents, would I automatically turn on them? What if I discovered Emilio was a crooked cop? And the dead woman I’d seen in Asher’s memories… what if that had been intentional?
Would I walk away from him? From any of them?
My heart ached at the thought.
Regardless, when it came to tracking down the witches, we had to tread carefully. We needed a solid plan, we needed the element of surprise, and most importantly, we needed the rest of the gang.
So, despite my instinct to jump in headfirst and think about it later, I said, “We’re not making a move without the guys. I’ll text them later and let them know what I saw, and we’ll take it from there.”
Asher blew out a breath that sounded an awful lot like relief. “Fair enough.”
I wondered if he’d been testing me.
I wondered if I’d passed.
My head hurt.
“They should be back any day,” he said.
“I know,” I said, but I wouldn’t truly relax until they were back here with us, all in one piece. “But the best thing I can do now—for the witchesandfor you guys—is to keep working on my magic.”
“You still haven’t gotten this creepy old relic to work, huh?” He nodded at the book of shadows still sitting open in my lap, peering over my shoulder at the scrying page. The smell of his shampoo did nothing to mask his spicy demon scent—a seductive blend of ground cinnamon, hot pepper, and candle flame that made my stomach flip whenever he got too close.
Like now.
“It’s not a creepy old relic. But… no.” Sighing, I dragged my finger down the center of the page. There was a time when doing so would’ve elicited warmth and light, a shimmer of magic connecting me to it and it to me, but lately my touch had no effect.
The instant connection I’d felt upon digging it up from my backyard the other night had cooled, and no matter how hard I’d tried since then, I hadn’t been able to tap back into its inherent magic.
After so many years apart, it seemed our bond had degraded.
“Whatever happened with the fire just now,” I said, “it had nothing to do with the book.”
“Why do you need it, then? Obviously, you’ve got plenty of mojo to work with.”
“Sure, but it’s mostly out of my control.”
“Do youhaveto control it, though? Isn’t it just a part of you? Magic in the blood and all that?”
