Page 47 of Fake It ’Til You Mate It

He’s standing there, holding the dumpster, like it doesn’t weigh a million pounds. “Like silver?”

Maybe. “I’m going to grab it. Don’t drop the dumpster on me.”

He grumbles. “Do you really think I would?”

I pause for a second.

No, I realize. I don’t. Somehow, my lifelong nerves when it comes to being a prey shifter around predators have disappeared when it comes to this predator in particular.

“I trust you,” I murmur, though maybe I have a few second thoughts when the dumpster groans, his arms jerking. “You good, Max?”

“Just get it and see what rolled under the dumpster.”

Can do.

Going flat on my belly, I scooch under the two-foot gap Max created before I can scoop up the glass vial in my hand. Slithering like a snake, I back up until I can go to my knees. Max waits until I’m clear before lowering the dumpster back to the asphalt.

He wipes his hands against his jeans, then reaches out to me, offering to help me up.

I let him. Once I’m on my feet, I show him the vial.

It’s half full. I can make out the dark wolfsbane ash, the nightroot powder, the glittering silver, and the same cork that we found in the woods. It’s a different blend than the tea, I notice. The ratio is different. It’s much paler, the silver outweighing the rest of the components.

Makes sense. Declan’s lips might’ve been blue due to the violet nightroot powder, but the only part of the poison that stood out was the glittering silver. Not the wolfsbane ash, either.

I think… I think I’m looking at the murder weapon.

I’m careful to hold it by the cork so that I don’t accidentally get my fingerprints on it. I thought that would be enough, and maybe it would’ve been… if the vial didn’t starter glowing a vibrant green.

Magic green.

Ah, crap.

I just triggered a blow-back spell.

Grandma Jean was a pro at them. Just like how some witches specialize in charmed bakeries or dream spells, there are a few who make bank with protection spells. Most are designed to keep people safe. Others? They’re offensive rather than defensive.

A blow-back spell is a highly offensive spell. If there’s something that you’re worried might get stolen, that you want to protect, you charm it with a blow-back. If the wrong person gets their hands on it, they’re penalized.

I wasn’t supposed to grab this vial. The caster meant it for someone else. And now we’re paying for it.

CHAPTER 14

MY FAVORITE

Zzzzzzzzzzz.

— gus

It all happens so fast. I recognize that we’re about to get hit with magic, but I don’t have the reflexes to do anything to stop it.

I don’t.

Max does.

He dives for me, grabbing the vial and flinging it away from us as the green turned neon. It’s only gone about three feet from us when it detonates, but Max is already folding me in his arms, shielding me from the blast. He turns my head into his chest, bowing his head over mine, and braces us both as the magic explodes.

It’s like some kind of powder bomb. It doesn’t hurt, not really, but a shot of powder slams into us, causing Max—and, by extension, me—to stagger. He recovers quickly, lifting his head, then cursing under his breath.