by Holley Trent
She peeled her eyelids open and followed him in spite of her spotty vision.
As she approached the door, he threw himself in front of it and his unholy hiss made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up. “Stay back,” he growled.
She stood on tiptoes and tried to see around him. “Mason, move.” She’d bet two weeks of her paid time off she knew what, or whom, had generated that flash, and it wasn’t lightning. Those idiot cambions never could travel without creating a commotion.
She grabbed a back pocket of his jeans and gave it an ineffectual tug. She couldn’t get much leverage using just one hand. “Mason, move!”
“Hank and Sean are pulling in now. We won’t be outnumbered. Just stay here and I’ll take care of it.”
“Mason. Really.”
“Stay here.” He pulled the door open, exited, and pushed it shut on her. “Stay,” he repeated.
She narrowed her eyes at him. As always, he seemed entirely unaffected. He walked away taking for granted that she’d obey him. By then, he should have known better.
Sighing, she looked down at Nick. “One of these days, your daddy is going to have to learn to listen to me.”
“Ba.”
“Yeah. Bad. Bad listener.” She put her shoulder to the door and stepped outside just in time to see three Cougars having a shoving match with three cambions.
“For fuuuu—” She pressed her lips together remembering the impressionable youngster on her hip. “For frick’s sake, y’all.” She stepped into the middle of the would-be fracas.
“Ellery,” Mason warned.
“Nope. Jeez. Tried to tell you.” She reached up, grabbed Claude’s baseball cap by the brim, and smacked his arm with it. “You three dopes would walk into biker bar wearing the rival gang’s colors.”
“Fuck, fille.” Claude snatched his hat back and shoved it over his uncombed curls. “Thought you’d be happy to see us.”
“You know these men?” Mason asked.
She couldn’t help but to notice he’d all but insinuated himself between her and Claude.
“Take it easy, dirty red. This tactless disaster is my brother-in-law Claude.”
“I’ll tell Gail you said that.” Claude stuck out a hand to shake.
Mason glared at him.
Ellery kicked the back of Mason’s boot. “Make nice with him.”
“He smells weird. They all do.”
She sighed. “Have a little tact, Alpha.” Claude smelled as he always did to Ellery, minus the cigarette stink. He must have been trying to quit again. Maybe he’d finally make it stick.
Charles crossed his arms and blew his hair out of his face. It was out of his usual ponytail. Either he had become more casual as of late or his wife Marion had been petting it again. “Humor me. What do we smell like?”
Sean grunted. “Hard to say. It’s not one particular thing. There’s an undercurrent of … sameness, but everything on top of that is wildly different.”
“They all have the same father,” Ellery said.
Sean grunted again, and rubbed his chin. His nostrils flared as he sniffed. “That accounts for it, I think. They all have about the same amount of … whatever.”
“It’s a little brimstoney, right?” Hank said. “Is that what we’re trying not to say? I mean, that is why we’re on high alert right now, right? Because they’ve got a tinge of the demonic about them?”
Mason walked toward John, nearest him, and took in a long draw of air.
John, ever-curious, pushed up one blond eyebrow. “Should have told us there’d be party games, Ell. I would have brought Pictionary.”
“No. This one doesn’t have that,” Mason said. “Ozone, not brimstone.”
“Should we let them off the hook, Ellery?” Charles’s gaze fell to the child on her hip and then lifted to Mason. His eyes narrowed.
She didn’t like that look one bit, and it had nothing to do with the cambion versus Cougar drama in front of her. It was because Charles was descended from a love god on his mother’s side. He knew a match when he saw one … and she worried that this time he didn’t—that her gut was wrong. She’d never learned to trust it growing up in the way most practicing witches did, but in the past year, she’d made it a priority. She thought she’d been doing a good job of decision-making, in spite of everything. It would crush her to know she was so wrong about something.
Don’t do this to me.
She swallowed hard and gave a terse nod. “Go ahead and tell them. Maybe it’ll help them isolate the scents later.”
Claude pointed to himself. “Witch. Different kind than Ellery. Different goddess.” He pointed to Charles. “He’s technically a demigod, if you excuse his other half. He’s descended from love gods.” He pointed to John. “His mother has angel lineage way back. He’s the one who teleports us, so you can blame him for any momentary blindness you endured upon our arrival.”
“Huh. Angel,” Sean said. “All right, easy enough to identify in isolation, but the other side is somehow demonic?”
The cambions performed synchronized shrugs.
Mason turned to Ellery. “Are they being mysterious or do they not know?”
“Oh, they know. It’s just … not easy to explain what their father is.”
“Gulielmus is why we’re here, Ell,” John said. “There’s a ritual Claude found during his research that might wake him. Needs to be attempted in the next couple of days because the veil between living and dead will be harder to breach soon. We’ll have to wait a month if we don’t try it now.”
“No way.” Mason put his big body between Ellery and John. “Sorry you have a problem at home, but Agatha knows the deal. You can’t take Ell unless you want a problem, man.”
Charles gave his hair a frustrated tug. “We know about your deal. We could have snatched her and popped out of here, but we prefer to handle our problems diplomatically. We just need to borrow her.”
“Find someone else.”
“Can’t. Need a third witch and it needs to be someone who’s an appropriate conduit to the power Claude and Gail have. If Gail had another sibling, we would have tried him or her instead.”
Mason’s fists tightened at his sides.
On one hand, she was pleased he cared enough to be a little possessive—that he wouldn’t give her up so easily. On the other hand, she wanted to help. That’s what family was supposed to do. She put a hand against his back and cringed when he turned with that tortured expression. It was as if he was waiting for her to just walk away and let them take her. “He’s not bullshitting you,” she whispered. “I sometimes help them with major magic acts. I may not be able to use my own very efficiently, but Claude can boost what I have and direct it.”
He fixed his gaze on Claude who was trying to stuff his thick hair back into his hat. “What’s wrong with their father?”
“He’s been in a supernatural coma for a year. Waking him isn’t a straightforward thing.”
He seemed to consider that. He looked at each of his brothers who both cast him wary glances. They didn’t know what to make of it. She couldn’t blame them. There wasn’t anything normal about the scenario, and therefore no guideposts available to determine behavior.
“You want to do it?” he whispered.
“I try to help wherever I can. They’re good to me … even when my family isn’t.”
He cringed. “Shit, Ell. I’ll … have to think about it. I hope you understand.”
“I do.”
“Whoa!”
Ellery clutched her heart at Mrs. Foye’s sudden arrival. She’d snuck as quiet as one of her Cougar sons. Granted, they’d all been distracted.
“Who are these big men I don’t recognize?”
Darnell stood behind her, eyes wary, his fingers curled over his burned flesh. The idiot had obviously been scratching again.
Ellery sighed.
Claude extended a hand, and Mrs. Foye put hers in it.
He kissed it.
She blushe
d.
Sean guffawed. “That never works in real life.”
“Claude Fortier. I’m Ellery’s brother-in-law. These are my brothers John and Charles.”
“Nice to meet ya. No offense, but what are you doing here?”
“Asking a favor of your sons.”
“Did they take you up on it?” She raised an eyebrow at Mason.
“Thinking about it, Mom.”
She lifted her hat and scratched the scalp beneath her sweat-drenched hair. “Damn. Didn’t expect my boys back yet and here come you three and I don’t know what I could possibly whip up to feed all of you.”
“You don’t need to fe—”
John gave Charles a hard nudge to the ribs before his brother could get the polite refusal out. He spread on that sweet grin that made so many people underestimate him. “We’re not picky.”
John would eat anything that wasn’t moving … and some things that still were. Ellery shuddered at the memory of that sea urchin. She’d never eat sushi with him again, not even on a dare.
“Sandwiches okay?” Mrs. Foye asked.
“A sandwich would be a dream.”
“I’ll go churn them out then.” She turned, and yipped upon finding Darnell standing right behind her. She swatted him with her hat. “Oh, for God’s sake. Go do some work. Do I need to find you some that involves a shovel and a wheelbarrow?”
Darnell seemed to process the threat on a delay. His eyes widened and he very nearly broke the sound barrier hoofing it to his truck. “Nuh-uh. No, ma’am. I’ve got some pasture to check.”
Mrs. Foye harrumphed and turned on her heel. “I swear, one of these days I’ll let you boys talk me into firing that dodo bird. Call yourself doing a guy a favor … ”
Hank, Sean, and John followed her, but Ellery jogged and caught up to Hank.
“Did you find my athame?”
“We didn’t look through anything. We transferred all the stuff from the site and the Jeep into the truck, returned the Jeep, and drove straight back.”
“God, I hope it’s still there.”
He gave her the tiniest nod in acknowledgement before continuing toward the house.
Charles and Claude stayed back with Ellery, giving her those frustrating big-brother stares that had been annoying the ever-loving shit out of her in the sweetest possible way for the past year. There was way too much wisdom behind those stares.
“How are you really, fille?” Claude asked.
Mason draped his arm over her shoulders and pulled her to his side. “If you’re insinuating I’d let anything happen to her, you’re way off-base.”
Claude kept his gaze fixed on her. “Ell?”
She knew what he wanted her to say—that she was miserable and wanted to be rescued. Once she did, he would do everything in his power to make that happen. They’d expect her to fight her way out of this because being difficult was her personality, but … she didn’t want to. And she didn’t know how to tell him that.
Charles squeezed his brother’s shoulder, and Claude looked at him. Claude’s concerned expression gave way to one of understanding as something passed between them. They didn’t have to talk aloud to understand each other, and Ellery had never been more thankful for that.
Claude shoved his hands into his sweatshirt pockets and cleared his throat. “I can take a look at that hellmouth if you’ll tell me where it is.”
“Can you seal it?” Mason asked.
“I don’t make promises about things I haven’t examined for myself. Just point me toward it. I’ll be able to pinpoint the aperture as I get close.”
Mason pointed north. “It’s out there. Probably about three-quarters of a mile, right after the pasture ends.”
Claude nodded and started walking.
Mason chafed Ellery’s back. “I’m going to try to get a little more work done before lunch. You coming? I like when you watch.”
And watching is quite nice. “Yeah, I’m coming. In just a sec.”
After a moment’s pause, he returned to the wood shop.
Charles’s gaze tracked slowly over to her.
“So, what’s the verdict, Cupid?”
“Do you need my opinion?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“Because I trust your power more than I trust my gut.”
“You need to listen to it.”
“I was raised to do the opposite, so now I don’t know what’s truth and what’s just wishing.”
“You’re wishing?”
She cringed.
He smiled. “We’re not going to take you from him if you want to stay.”
“What do you think my family will say if I don’t go back to my respectable job and all those cold shoulders?” Hannah’s being one of those. She might never understand why Ellery didn’t just go—why she didn’t try to get them help.
“Maybe you need to stop caring about what they’ll say. There’s a chance they may never come around, and if you keep waiting for that to happen, you’re going to miss out on the things that could actually make you happy.”
Nick’s heavy head fell against her shoulder. Asleep. She’d have to wake him to get some food into him, but for the moment, he could rest.
“If they’re good to you, Ellery, stay. Don’t beat yourself up about wanting to.”
“I … think I want to stay.” It was such a relief to admit it—as if the truth really had set her free.
“So do it. Really.” He started toward Mrs. Foye’s.
“Wait! You didn’t tell me the verdict.”
He stopped. Turned. “I think you know.”
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
After lunch, Ellery excused herself from Hannah’s glares to the outside where she whispered Agatha’s name to no response. Agatha might have been out of reach of the wind for the moment.
Ellery leaned against the side of Mrs. Foye’s utility shed, and crossed her arms, not knowing what else to do with them. She had grown used to having Nick in them the past few days. He certainly didn’t need to be held all the time. He could crawl. Needed to strengthen his legs and walk soon, but he needed to be hugged. Or maybe she just thought he needed to be. At the moment, he was being squeezed practically to death by Miles, who’d had the audacity to assert that Ellery had been hogging him. Miles loved babies almost as much as she loved green tea frappuccinos and cake pops, but Ellery would venture to guess she loved that kid even more than that. Try as she might not to get attached, she’d already fallen for him.
His father wasn’t so bad, either.
“There you are,” Mason said, rounding the corner. He approached her slowly, hands in pockets as if he thought she’d fear him if he held them out. He’d been like that all morning, though—since breakfast. Alternating between tentative and overprotective in such a dizzying way it practically set off whiplash.
“Yeah. Just needed some air.”
He rocked back on his boot heels and took in the view, which wasn’t much to write home about from that location. The sights were the driveway and the back of the corrugated metal storage building that currently housed a couple of tractors. “I was giving what Claude and his brothers said some thought.”
“You mean about Gulielmus?”
He grunted. “Do they keep promises?”
“I’ve never heard of them breaking one on purpose. You may not believe it, but they’re generally honorable sorts. They pushed back against their father before he defected. They were more afraid of what they were becoming than of Gulielmus. They want to be good.”
“Are they, though?”
“As good as you or me. Lord knows I’m not perfect.”
He nodded, still staring at that building.
“Come on. If you’re going to brood, do it a little closer.”
He looked at her, finally, and grinned. “Figured you want me to give you a little space.”
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Just to unpack what happened this morning.”
“When? When I burned a new hole in Darnell’s arm or when Hannah and I had that silent but so-very-loud argument over the dining room table?”
He furrowed his brow. “I don’t remember there being an argument.”
“You probably wouldn’t have noticed. You lack the appropriate genitalia and the Southern pedigree. Southern women can tear each other down without even talking. Didn’t you notice how aggressively we were passing food back and forth?”
“I chalked it up to hunger.”
She shook her head. “Nope.”
“What was the silent argument about?” He seemed to have his heels tarred to the ground. If he wasn’t going to walk to her, she’d go to him. She pushed off the wall and joined him at the corner, leaning her shoulder against the shed.
The tight set of his jaw relaxed. He reached for her sweatshirt’s drawstring and twiddled it.
Better. Not the sometimes-aggressive cat she knew, but less anxious, at least.
“I think Hannah feels I’ve held out on her and Miles. That I’m able to get them out of here and haven’t tried hard enough. They know Claude, Charles, and John. They may not know precisely what they’re capable of, but by now, they probably have an awareness that the boys could challenge you and your brothers. And maybe they’d win.”
“But they won’t. Challenge us, I mean.”
“No. They won’t.”
“Why is that?”
“Why do you think?”
“Other than the fact that you made me a promise?”
“I did. And I suspect I’m not the only one.”
“What do you mean?”
She clamped her lips before the words could tumble out. Even if Agatha had facilitated the match, it was still up to them to find the spark. Ellery wanted nothing taken for granted. She didn’t want to spend the rest of her life with a man and going through the motions of a relationship. Compatibility did not equal romance. She wanted both.
“Kiss me,” she said.
“I’d be glad to, but we have a conversation to finish.”
“I do believe you’re the only man I’ve ever been with who’d deny the opportunity to touch me.”
“I’m not denying it. It’s just that if I touch you, things may get out of hand.”
“In what way?”