Page 63 of Hallowed Bones

“I think we’ll keep an eye on her in the meantime,” I say, a grin tugging at the corner of my mouth as I recall the fire in her eyes this morning when I held her phone just out of reach. “I’ve got a date with her on Wednesday.”

Ezra’s head snaps toward me like a whip. His stare drills into the side of my face as I shift, rolling my shoulders and cupping the back of my neck. I crack it left, then right. Deliberate. Unbothered.

“You what?” His voice is sharp, dangerous.

“I asked our little rabbit out,” I say matter-of-factly. “And she said yes.”

His eyes narrow, lips drawing tight. “She’s not one of your fuck toys, Ly.”

The smirk dies on my lips. “No,” I say, all edge now. “She’s not. That’s not what this is—and you fucking know it.”

“If—and I do mean if—” Ezra grits out. “If she joins the coven, she won’t belong to just you. I know that you and Reyes…” He doesn’t finish the statement, but I can guess what he’s referring to—the women Reyes and I have been known to share. “It’ll be different with her,” he finally says after a moment. “Can your wolf handle that?”

My eye twitches at the insinuation, and I drop my arms, turning to face him more fully now. “I have mastered my wolf, Ezra,” I state. “You are well aware of that fact. He is not the alpha. I am. Do not insult me by suggesting otherwise.”

Ezra’s gaze is sharp on mine. We stare each other down for a long moment, the silence stretching and growing talons as if the second it breaks, it means to rip us both to shreds. It never gets the chance because the cry of a crow overhead shatters the tension, and the two of us turn our gazes skyward to see a bird circling, wings out. The animal loops around once, then a second time before crying out again and soaring off toward the tree line.

“I’m sorry.” Ezra’s apology redirects my gaze. He moves back to the bench, shoulders less tense than before as he retakes his seat. “You were right—I was merely challenging you. I know that you’re in control of your wolf.”

Instead of sitting next to him, I stride closer to the base of the willow tree. The branches overhead are so spread out that they block the sky from here. The roots woven into the ground are mangled, alien creatures, diving beneath the dirt and rising out again a few feet later. Turning, I lean against its solid mass.

“She’s the first female witch born to Salem’s coven in centuries,” I say. “It’s understandable that we’re all a little overwhelmed by her.”

“My father would’ve considered her a miracle, our salvation from our curse.”

The leaves shift with the wind, dappled light glinting through the drooping, heavy limbs.

“Kane was…” Ezra’s father. Our coven’s last head, and Ezra’s own monster, hadn’t been a good man. Power often lends itself to obsession, and I know that Ezra fears he’ll end up just like him. My gaze moves back to him. “Weak,” I finally finish.

Ezra’s head lifts in surprise. “Weak?” he repeats.

“Yeah.” I shrug. “Your dad pinned all his hopes on the generations that aren’t even a guarantee to come. Maybe it was because of his own father and uncles, I don’t know. But instead of learning to live with the hand we were dealt as descendants of this coven, he got lost in what might be. When you spend too much time chasing what could be, you start to forget what is.”

Kane Bishop’s fixation on our lack of a priestess and female witch was only one in a long list of flaws. He, just like his father before him, perpetuated the belief we, as male witches, are born magically weaker than females. The shadows dancing against Ezra’s skin now are a testament to just how powerful any witch can be. For all we know, the magic we sense humming from Haven could be a false hope. She could be weak, and even if she is, that’s fine. Her existence doesn’t mean that our coven is saved from extinction. The four of us—or rather, five of us, including her—could be the end of the line.

Would it be so terrible if what we do with our time on this earth is more important than creating other generations to oversee it?

It was here long before we were born, and it will be here long after we’re gone. It no more needs our intervention than we need the reminder of our fathers’ expectations.

Ezra stays quiet long enough that I think that’s it. Conversation over. The fog below begins to peel back from the land as the sun’s light arches over the hills and lands around Hangman’s Hill. The taste of old magic still hangs in the air like ash, coating the back of my tongue.

After a while, Ezra gets up from the stone bench and makes his way toward the path. I follow like a silent shroud, and neither of us speak again until we’re at the bottom of the hill. As he separates from me and goes over to his motorcycle, I pull out my keys, but linger near the mouth of the trail, watching him.

“You know,” I say. “It’s all right to be a little scared—you wouldn’t be mortal if you weren’t.”

Withdrawing his own keys, Ezra gazes back at me, a furrow in his brow. “What?”

“Haven.” When her name doesn’t elicit the awareness that I want from his expression, I sigh and stride across the lot. “It’s all right to be interested in her,” I tell him. “We all are.”

Ezra’s pupils flare, black swallowing blue. The shadows on his forearms halt all movement completely.

Interesting.

“Being interested in the same woman isn’t the end of the world,” I continue. “Male witches have worshiped their female counterparts for centuries. We’re not like humans—drawn to a way of life that inhibits our natural instincts.”

His expression shifts, subtle but real. He shakes his head and turns away, avoiding my eyes as he fits the key into the ignition of his bike. He doesn’t start the engine. Just straddles the seat, backing the bike out from under the tree. I wonder if it’s time to dust mine off too. We all have one, but Ezra treats his like part of his own body, like another limb. I bet Haven would love riding with us once the leaves have all turned.

“I think we should focus on her training and those creatures from the Veil before our own cocks,” Ezra says, drawing my attention again. I blink and realize that he’s backed up to the center of the lot, with more than enough room now for him to turn and head toward the road.