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Having grown up as a daughter of a wizard, and been made to marry another, she knew life for a woman born to a member of the WEC was an unhappy one. Women were considered chattel—property—and wombs for bringing forth heirs.
Elana had magic, very strong magic, but had never been allowed to explore it. Instead, her husband had stolen it, channeling it to himself for his own use. He’d stolen so much that it had never replenished, and her magic was lost to her forever.
She’d been miserable, and when the time came, she’d run. After giving birth in a motel room, she’d left the infant with the first witch she found, begging her to take the child far away. She’d given the witch the money from selling her only piece of jewelry, a wedding ring she despised. Then, Elana had returned for her punishment.
Seth, sent in search of his mother, had interfered. Instead of bringing her back to his father, he’d brought her to the only entity that he knew was stronger and more powerful: Darlington’s resident dragon.
He hadn’t known what he was doing, only that he needed help. Desmon had been impressed by the budding wizard’s bravery—though perhaps it was desperation—and offered to hide Elana from the WEC for a price: a favor to be returned in the future. Then the dragon had erased young Seth’s memories, replacing them with a fruitless search for his dame.
“So how did you find out again?” I asked. We’d ended the day’s practice so he could explain.
“The forget spell faded after a year or so, after the threat of father reading my mind or using a truth serum had passed,” Seth explained. “I’ve been looking for you since.” He’d also started visiting the dragon to see his mother again, once he was old enough and was given more autonomy.
It was a lot to take in. It was strange to have a brother. And a mother too.
“How do we know I’m definitely her?”
“We wouldn’t. Not without a DNA test, but I’m not interested in giving our DNA samples to any of the companies available, especially not with our magical abilities. But I’m pretty sure it’s you. I suspected the moment we met, but now, I’m sure. Recharging the way we do is for witches, not wizards; it came from our mother. You’re the right age. And you look like Mother when she was young. I saw photos.”
Mother. I had a mother, and I looked like her. I couldn’t stop the silly, stupid tears that welled up in my eyes.
“I—I think I’ll like to meet her. But not right now. Maybe after I lock Amrita up for good. I don’t want her to meet me only to lose me again.”
“Of course.”
We ordered takeout then, and as we waited for the food to arrive, Liam popped out to take care of some demon business while Seth sat down to play some more video games. I didn’t know how he managed to pay for this nice loft when all I’d seen him do for the last few days was yell at fourteen-year-olds online.
I took my noodles to my room to think things through.
Fishing the can of soda from the takeout bag, I grumbled when I saw it was still not a diet cola.Sigh.
My phone rang, and for a moment I perked up at the possibility that Eamon was finally calling. But the logical side of me knew it was probably Sybil or Shelby. I’d been talking to both the last few days—especially Sybil, who had a lot of questions about wizard magic.
I looked over at the nightstand for my phone, but it wasn’t there. The ring had come from my purse. Shit! I’d left it in there yesterday and forgot to charge it last night. I grabbed the bag, which was hanging from the bedpost, and opened it.
I gawked, confused for a moment before I realized what I was staring at. It was the inside of Eamon’s wardrobe. I’d opened my purse the wrong way without thinking.
My phone was still ringing, but I was too distracted now to find it.
The shelf dedicated to my magical handbag wasn’t how I’d left it. In one corner sat the violet that had survived spontaneous combustion. Eamon had installed an LED light over it. Lining the other side was a row of diet colas. Next to those was a Tupperware container with my name on it, followed by a smaller container labeledFor Nugget. And finally, a note sat at the center, folded twice, with my name scrawled across it in masculine handwriting.
The ringing had stopped now, but I didn’t care. I’d call back later.
I reached for the note, my hands shaking.
I’m sorry. I love you. – Eamon.
I reread it several times, even though it was a grand total of six words.
He loved me. That couldn’t be right; demons didn’t love. This must be a joke.
I picked up the container labeled with my name. Inside were the cookies I loved so much. The container for Nugget was filled with her favorite snacks. Tears welled in my eyes. This couldn’t be real, but I knew it was. Eamon had always been attentive. He might claim he didn’t care, but he did. This wasn’t a joke. He loved me just as I loved him.
The door to my room crashed open.
“Are you okay?” Seth asked. He looked frazzled.
“Yes, why?”
