“Do I even want to know what that is?” Rachel asks.
“Who. She’s… like a guard dog. Sort of.” Warren smiles. Then, extending a hand, “Rachel, would you like to accompany me? Perhaps the fresh air will?—”
“No.”
“It’s a lovely night, all things considered. We could?—”
“No.”
Warren stares after her, a steely determination in his eyes that says this isn’t the end of it.
Ah, well. It’s good to know some thingshaven’tchanged.
“I’ll go with you,” says Kate, in that same dreamy, unfocused tone. “A lovely night outside, yes, that’s perfect.”
“Not tonight, love,” says Oliver.
I turn my attention to the other witches. “I think it’s best that you three get some rest. Helena should be back soon, so I’ll check in with her, see if she can help the demons and I keep watch. I don’t expect trouble in the immediate term—the Wielders suffered heavy losses and will need some time to recalibrate. But we don’t know how many survived or how quickly they’ll reorganize. Ozikai is also a concern, as well as the unbound imps. As I said, it’s only a matter of time. We must remain vigilant. Tomorrow, we’ll meet in the basement at dawn. Start fresh.”
“Start fresh with what?” Rachel asks.
“With a crash course in magic.”
“And then?”
I offer a smile, but I can’t hold it for long. A deep sigh escapes. “Then let’s just hope the last in the ancient line of Bonnivarde witches are indeed the most formidable.”
twenty-seven
LIZZY
With the demons, Helena, and Medusa on perimeter duty and Rachel getting Kate settled into bed, I give myself the gift of a searing-hot shower to wash away the seriously shitty mojo. I’m not sure how well it works, but once I’m properly scrubbed and lotioned and outfitted in my favorite flannel pajamas with the little wine glasses all over them, my very last joint tucked into the shirt pocket for safekeeping, I feel at least twelve percent better.
Until Rachel pokes her head in my doorway.
Ugh.
“Everything okay with Kate?” I ask.
“She’s totally out. Mind if I come in?”
There are many ways to answer that question. I decide not to.
“I brought reinforcements,” she says, revealing the edge of a silver tray. “Snacks.”
I roll my eyes. “Next time lead with that.”
She enters the room in a cloud of superiority and disappointment, her signature scent, carrying a tray outfittedwith two steaming mugs topped with frothy white whipped cream and a plate of freshly-baked chocolate chip cookies, still warm.
This is obviously a trap.
But… cookies.
She sits on the bed beside me, placing the tray between us.
“You made these?” I ask, selecting one and breaking it open. God, it’s perfect. Crisp on the outside, melty on the inside, buttery.
Rachel shakes her head, lowering her eyes. “The house made these. I… assisted.”
