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I gnaw on my lower lip while I consider my reply. It’s likely that they will teach me just the things they’re allowed to. But their knowledge is limited, because they’ve been taught that they can’t have access to all magic. Cohen doesn’t have that limitation.
Me:
I’m concerned that you’re right.
And they’ve been casting together for so long that I’m not sure they remember how to be a solo witch.
And how much knowledge do they have of Shadow and Veil casting? It can’t be much.
There’s a long pause before he answers. Enough time for me to drop my phone on my too enormous bed and rifle through my suitcase for pajamas.
Unknown:
You know I don’t have that problem.
Me:
I know. But it doesn’t really do me much good, when you’re wherever you are, and I’m here.
An even longer pause before he responds. While I wait, I brush my teeth, braid my hair and change into my sleep shorts and tank top.
Unknown:
Tell me where you are, and I’ll work something out.
Guilt pinches my stomach, like I feel like I’m being unfaithful or something, but really, the only thing I’m doing is making sure I have the best shot at surviving. I need all the help I can get, and while I know the guys will work overtime to get me up to speed, to help me learn what I need to. I have a feeling that Robert Harris and his lackeys won’t play fair.
With anyone else, whatever the guys can teach me would be enough. But most of the elders want me as far from their coven as I can be. I need more than what they can teach me.
Before I can change my mind, I pull up the map app on my phone, take a screenshot of my current location, and send it to Cohen.
This time, he responds almost immediately.
Unknown:
I’ll see you soon, wildcard.
The message has an ominous tinge to it, and I can’t help the shiver that works its way down my spine. Why do I have the feeling I’ve made a huge mistake?
The next morning, I make my way down to the huge kitchen to find all four of my guys already there. Fielder and Ezra are sitting at the huge marble island, shirtless and sipping from mugs. Fielder has a computer in front of him, and Ezra has a stack of old looking books near his elbow. Hardin—Hardin—is standing at the stove, spatula in hand as he makes what looks like hash browns, scrambled eggs and sausages, also shirtless.
Gideon is chopping up fruit at the island,shirtless,tattoos on full glorious display.
They must be trying to short out my brain with the sheer number of muscles and tattoos on display, because… who even cooks in just gray sweats? Really? There’s not a world in which that is a normal thing to do.
At least not in my world.
They’re all murmuring quietly, and I don’t know if I can’t make out their words because Fielder has a silencing spell up or if I’m just groggy after a long relatively sleepless night. But then all conversation cuts off, and Fielder mutters something and suddenly the sounds of the kitchen are much clearer.
A spell then.
They’re keeping secrets from me. Like always.
That niggling thread of distrust that I just can’t seem to shake no matter how hard I try grows to a cord and I try to hide it as I move into the kitchen.
They eye me as I enter—even Hardin, who turns from the stove to run his bright blue eyes over me—like they aren’t sure if they should talk to me or not.
That’s okay, because as much as I don’t want to, I need to talk to them. They are going to hate what I have to tell them. So much.
