He eyes me. “Like a sparkly pixie princess.”
Choosing to ignore that, I ask, “What can I do with a wand?”
“Hopefully, change me back into a man.” He turns his eyes to our companions. “And then you won’t have to learn anything else because I’ll be around to watch out for you.”
“Oh, Rowan,” I tease. “That’s so chivalrous.”
“You just filled the car with sunshine. You’re such a summer.” The words are mocking, but his tone is warm.
“Oh, look.” I sit up straighter when Ansel and Ash leave the table. “They’re coming out.”
Our two companions emerge from the coffee shop, pausing just before they push the door open and make a run for it.
They’re halfway here, both already drenched, when Rowan flies to the window.
“Don’t,” I warn when I see his foot hovering over the lock button.
“Kill joy,” he mutters, flying into the back and claiming my purse as a perch once more.
Wind and rain whoosh through the car as the men scramble inside. Drenched, Ash angles toward me, offering me a velvet pouch.
“Is this it?” I whisper.
“That’s it,” he confirms. “Don’t touch it.”
I untie the drawstrings and peer into the pouch, my nerves sparking when I see the clear pendant resting inside. It’s wrapped in decorative silver wire and strung from a thin chain.
“Now what do we do?” I ask, returning the bag to Ash, who gives it to Ansel.
The sorcerer attempts to wipe the water off his neck, but it’s no use. More streams down from his saturated hair. “Tomorrow, I’ll siphon your magic.”
Chapter 20
Rowan: The Pre-owl Years
“Idon’t remember including you in this project,” Rowan says. “You’re a supplier, not a participant.”
“You’re not going to be able to do this without a mage,” Ansel says.
“I’ma mage,” Rowan snaps. Then he jabs his wing toward our driver. “Besides, we don’t need a mage. We have…Ash.”
He makes it sound like his cousin is a consolation prize.
“Ash didn’t study magic,” Ansel argues. “He’s alawyer. And if either of you were up to this task, you wouldn’t be a bird right now.”
“My brain wasn’t addled in the change. I still know all the theory. I just need someone to work the spell, and that someone isKit.”
“Does Kit have a workshop?” Ansel smirks as he looks back at Rowan, knowing he has him.
Rowan stares at the sorcerer, miffed. After several drawn-out seconds, he says, “Fine. You may help.”
“Seat belt,” Ash reminds Ansel impatiently when the car’s warning system begins to ding.
“So gracious of you,” the sorcerer says to Rowan, looking forward and snapping the latch into place.
Rowan huffs like an annoyed old man, making me laugh under my breath. No wonder I thought he was eighty.
“What college did you attend?” Ansel asks Rowan, not ready to let the conversation go.
