Though she was weeks away from being an adult in the eyes of the United States government, suddenly Embry felt very small. Like the little girl who’d weave daisy chains and leave them on her mother’s grave while the neighbor boy did the same for his a few plots over.
Embry sank farther into the chair, the fine upholstery swallowing her down like a truffle made of magic, lavender oat milk lattes, and a veritable aircraft carrier of guilt.
“Em, I know you’re a doer. You’re someone who can’t sit back and let others take care of things. I know because I’m the very same way. We meddle, we work, we don’t relax and sit on our hands. I know. I know how hard this is for you, especially with your reputation on the line.” The cool blue of her father’s eyes softened here, and his grip on her hand renewed. The fingertips had a little more warmth to them now. “But in this moment, I want you—I need you—to trust me and the professionals I’ve hired to fight for you.”
Suddenly, she felt more wrung out, more tired than before she’d fallen asleep. But there was so much left to be done—analysis of the paperwork and photos, a frank discussion about the motives of their current suspect list, any updates from Ames and Fairfax at Raven’s Head, and more.
Plus, Embryreallydid need to shower before she saw anyone else. Including Rye.
It was possible that Lazarus read her thoughts as they scrolled across her face. Or perhaps he just knew her better than anyone in the world, even if Rye claimed he held that title. Hard to beat Daddy at anything, especially when it came to her.
“Em, I see those wheels turning.”
Sighing, she looked into the same blue eyes she saw in the mirror, Lazarus Woodcross’s version in this moment filled with love, determination, and enough persuasion to convince an attacking bear to leap off a cliff.
“Hit the brakes on those damn wheels. Stay put. You are the future of this family. You’re my heir. Which means you’re also the future of the Woodcross coven. Old Hiram did not escape the horrors of Salem for us to give up the ghost not even five hundred years later.”
She nodded, because she was a good daughter. But, unfortunately for him, Embry’s stubbornness was a perfect match for his talents of persuasion.
If Lazarus noticed the flickering of her jaw, he didn’t seem to register it meant she was grinding her teeth. Clenching back the words playing on loop in her mind.
There is no future for me, the Woodcross family, or the coven if I don’t clear my name.
CHAPTER 27
TROUBLE WALKS IN
EMBRY EXITED THE SHOWER TO A CLOUD OF STEAM AND THEheady aroma of curry wafting up the staircase—Rye was early.
Embry rushed through her skin care routine as fast as she dared, ran through the barest of nonmagical makeup—concealer, blush, mascara—but left her hair wet in favor of making sure she’d beat Daddy (and any questions he had for Rye about their investigation) down the stairs. Not that Lazarus should be traversing the stairsin her opinion, but she also didn’t trust Rye not to ascend said stairs to check on Daddy because that was just something he’d do.
When she arrived at the kitchen, Rye was folding brown paper sacks into the recycling bin in the trash closet, his own hair also wet and curling about his ears as he turned around, a Raven’s Head crew sweatshirt swaddling his clean skin in gray gone threadbare at the elbows.
Seeing Rye in that moment was like diving into the ocean this time of year—as invigorating as it was shocking.
Yes, Embry had seen him by the light of day after they’d exited the Ravenwood Police Department duct maze. Yes, they’d made plans for dinner and a dissection of what they’d found. Yes, she’d looked him in the eye and said she’d see him later, slipping through the front gate of her childhood home while watching his broad back and bent head trudge toward his own.
But seeing him now? After her mind and body had rested enough to beawareof him?
Embry had known Rye her entire life. Yet the feeling unfurling in her chest at the familiar sight of him was something brand-new. Still, she punched down that nascent emotion like bread dough before its second rise, plastered a quizzical smile on her face, and blurted out, “Is that a cheesecake?”
Embry inclined her chin toward a big wedge of pale cake, topped with crimson cherry glaze and draped in toothpick-propped cling wrap, nestled among the to-go containers of chicken tikka masala, vegetable korma, mutter mushroom, naan, rice, and tamarind chutney.
“It truly is the perfect food.” Rye ran a hand through his damp hair, somehow both messing it up and improving it at the same time. “I had some, so I thought I’d share.”
“Very thoughtful of you.”
She shrugged and he shrugged back, both attempting a dance they’d never done on unsure feet. Almost as if tugging on a lifeline, Embry’s attention snagged on the hand falling to his side. She came around the counter, caught his hand, and flipped it over. Not even a faint scar.
“Good as new,” Rye confirmed softly.
Embry nodded. She didn’t know what to say, because she didn’t want to rehash the kiss that shouldn’t have been. Even if she did really, really want to know how well her skin perfector salve worked on a non-Stitch. It was a relief that it had threaded together his skin cells, at least on the surface. It was basically medical glue but improved via spellwork. It couldn’t heal something like Daddy’s wounds, but appearances it could do.
Yet even with a blank slate, even though it wasn’t there when she’d checked before, Embry wassureshe could make out the shape of her lips where they’d touched his skin. It purpled around the edges of her vision like a sunspot. A mark. It was so strange—she’d kissed and been kissed, and even with the recent memory ofchaste pecks traded with Balthazar weakening her knees, something about that unguarded moment had stained her mind like a brand.
Like a before and an after.
Rye toyed with a lock of her hair and that’s when Embry realized she was still cradling his other hand. An odd flavor of guilt rose within Embry and her own hands fell away—not so much dropping his palm as fleeing it. Rye didn’t budge, the repaired heart line still flashing up at her, held there under his own power. As if it were waiting for her to come back.
