Page 38 of Demon and the Raven

He scoffed. “That’ll be the day.”

“Sorry?”

“Whatever I say,” he teased, arching an eyebrow. “You’re not made that way. You don’t listen to anyone when you think you’re right.”

“I do about things I know nothing about,” I reminded him.

His grunt was soft.

“I never second-guess you about anything related to your work.”

“True.”

“I don’t meddle with things between you and your brother or you and Cass, and when people in town give you trouble, I don’t hex them.”

He laughed then. “You don’t believe in hexing anyone. What was it again, only for the highest and best, that’s the sole reason to perform magic.”

My turn to grunt.

“You don’t fool me. I know how your heart works.”

“So you say.”

“Now tell me again what you’re getting ready for.”

I chuckled. “Sometimes your brain makes jumps I can’t follow.”

“Sorry. I mean, what witchy holiday is next?” he asked as he pulled away from our cobblestone drive.

“Lammas,” I answered with a sigh. He was working on remembering things that were important to me, and I appreciated that more than he knew. “Or Lughnasadh, if you prefer.”

“What do you say?”

“I say Lammas because my grandmother did.”

“And that’s a sabbat, right?”

“It is.”

“And there’s eight of them.”

“Very good.”

“I listen.”

I knew he did. It was one of his very best qualities.

“And back in the day, these neo-pagan religious festivals marked the changes in the seasons and they stuck.”

“That’s correct. Lammas, in particular, is still celebrated all over the world.”

“By pagans.”

“By lots of people.”

“I love how so many celebrations, like Yule, got turned from being pagan holidays into Christian ones. I never knew that growing up.”

“Well, it’s nice you’re open to learning about it all.”