“Guys, please,” I say. “Keep your voices down.”
We’re all standing around Stevie’s place, Kirin pacing, Baz leaning against the kitchen island, me shuffling the novelty cards on the table, none of us knowing what the hell else to do. The only thing I do know right now is that arguing isn’t going to help.
“Stevie would kick your asses if she caught you acting like dickheads in her living room,” I say.
Kirin glares at Baz. “You know how I feel about her.”
Baz lets out a bitter laugh. “Does she?”
“Irrelevant.”
“Oh, I’d say it’s totally relevant. Maybe you’re not the only one who feels a connection.”
“You hardly know the woman,” Kirin says.
“And you do?”
They’ve been bickering like this all night, neither of them willing to address the big fat magickal elephant in the room—the fact that Stevie is connected to all of us, and we’re connected to her. No, not necessarily in a romantic way, but still. Kirin could no more talk Baz out of his feelings—whatever they may be—than I could pretend I haven’t felt the tug of that bond, too.
Not that I need to bringthatup right now. There’s enough dick-measuring going on in here as it is.
“Hug it out,” I say. “You know you want to.”
Kirin snorts, but Baz is already smiling. He stalks over to Kirin, puts him in a headlock until he has no choice but to relent.
The two are still screwing around when Cass finally emerges from the back bedroom, his face as pale as the moon.
All of us snap to attention.
“Is she okay?” I ask.
“She’s better. Fever broke, and she remembers everything that happened. That’s the good news.” He settles in on the couch, and we take seats around him, the air heavy and ominous with the question no one seems to want to ask.
Finally, I break the silence. “What’s the bad, Cass?”
“The rattlesnake wasn’t just a random accident. It was an omen. A warning.” He tells us about Stevie’s visions, the gruesome battle, details so horrifying she couldn’t have possibly invented them.
“For whatever reason, she’s been given a glimpse of what’s to come,” Cass says. “She’s… she’s seen it.”
And though his foreboding tone leaves little doubt as to what he means—as to whatanyof this means—Kirin asks anyway.
“Seen what, exactly?”
“The rise of the Dark Arcana.” Cass pales, his eyes aging a hundred years in a single heartbeat. “She’s seen our end.”
Thirty-Eight
STEVIE
“Is that what I think it is?”
Standing in my bedroom doorway, Kirin holds up the coffee tray and smiles his mesmerizing smile. “I thought you might be ready for a pick-me-up.”
“Youmustbe psychic.” I wave him in, grateful for the latte as well as the company. Isla just left—in fact, she must’ve let Kirin in—but Kirin’s basically my oldest friend here, and I was starting to miss him.
I haven’t seen him in three days—at least, not while I was coherent. Not since that day in the lab when I left without saying goodbye.
But seeing him now, standing there in his Dark Crystal T-shirt, his glasses askew, holding those lattes, I hardly remember why I was upset with him in the first place.
