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He was forming the words to begin making amends for his
drunken behavior during their brawl, when Neil said, “I want to apologize for what happened at the White Flame Club. I did use a spell. It was a chump move. My only excuse is that I was drunk out of my mind.”
Neil looking contrite shifted everything for Grant. He could even smile. “At least you didn’t spend the day in a drunk tank. I smelled like puke for a week afterward.”
Neil tried to chuckle, but it turned into a groan and a wince. “You’ll have to excuse me.” He moved to a large leather chair next to the fireplace but didn’t sit down on the seat. Instead, he eased himself onto the broad, padded arm of the chair. His smock draped over the sides.
A haunted, pained expression clung to Neil’s gray eyes.
He was a striking man with narrow features, not unlike Ryan. His black hair hung in waves to his shoulders. He’d heard some of the female wolves say he was the best-looking warlock of them all.
Right now, he looked like he’d been beat up.
“You okay?”
Neil gritted his teeth. “I’m going through the crucible of become a wizard. I’d heard it was bad and it is, almost as painful as going through the alter transformation.” He gestured to the assorted furniture in the space. “Please. Sit down.”
Grant settled himself on the couch adjacent to Neil’s chair. He noticed a large cast-iron pot on the hearth. His brows rose.
“I know,” Neil said, glancing at the fireplace as well. “A bit on-the-nose, but it speaks to me.” He sighed heavily then shifted his gaze to Grant. “Can I offer you a Scotch or a brandy? I’ll be having the latter.” He rose slowly. Grant now wished he’d followed Ryan’s advice and brought him a bottle of cognac.
“Scotch is fine.”
Neil walked slowly to an antique sideboard to the left of the fireplace. “I’ve needed an excuse and you’ll do.” He poured the drinks but drank his own down quickly then poured himself a second.
As he brought the tumbler of Scotch back to Grant, he explained “We’re supposed to keep the alcohol to a minimum during this process. But I’ve been craving a fifth of anything for the last two hours.”
Grant took the tumbler. “To cut the pain?”
Neil returned to his chair-arm seat. “Exactly. My nerve-endings feel like they’ve been blow-torched.”
Grant sipped his Scotch but didn’t say anything further. Neil had closed his eyes and kept swirling his snifter beneath his nose. Maybe he hoped the fumes would help ease his suffering as well.
After a moment, he seemed to relax then finally opened his eyes. “Do you accept my apology?”
“Of course. So long as you take mine.”
“I will. I do. I’ve been stubborn. I swear to you I’d never used a spell before to gain an advantage in a social situation. It’s been one of my vows from the beginning and I regret having broken it.”
“You haven’t since?”
“No.” He leaned forward slightly and hissed. “Jesus. Every joint in my body hurts.”
“Sorry you’re going through it.”
“Yeah.” He breathed slowly. “Thanks.”
Grant watched him for a moment. He didn’t know a lot about wizardry but getting there looked like hell.
Neil set his empty snifter on the small table beside the chair but remained on his perch. “Now, tell me why you’re here and what I can I do for you?”
Grant finished his Scotch then set the tumbler on the coffee table in front of him. He gave Neil the short version.
Neil listened intently and as Grant talked, Neil’s symptoms appeared to abate. By the time Grant told him about the dreamglide adventure to Cape Town, Neil rose from his chair and stretched.
“I take it, the pain comes in waves?”
“Yup. Right now, I’ve got a break, though I have no idea how long it will last. So, Natalie suspects that a wizard was involved in her alter transformation since it occurred when she bought the pie and took it home.”
