Chapter 17 #2
“Ugh.” I pressed the palms of my hands to my eyes. “She’s never going to let that go.” Martha held grudges professionally. The woman could weaponize gossip with military precision. Twenty years from now she’d still be bringing this up at town events.
Iris laughed. “Probably not.” Her smile widened slightly. “Could have been worse.”
I stared at her. “Like how?”
“Could have been Dolores in a bath.”
Ah. That is true.
“Let’s go, Tess,” called out Ronin. “You’re not finished.” He pointed his beer bottle at me like a coach motivating an athlete who’d just fallen down a flight of stairs.
I gave him a look. “Excuse me?” I loved my half-vampire friend, but right now, I wanted to grab him and stuff him in one of my portals. Preferably one that opened somewhere extremely inconvenient. Like the Nile.
“I’m just saying you need to practice more,” said Ronin.
“Practice makes perfect. See?” He raised his beer and finished in one go, smacking his lips.
“It’s all in the wrist.” Then he demonstrated a dramatic wrist flick that looked suspiciously like he was casting a spell. “Portal. Beer. Same principle.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I hate you.” Not really. But I definitely wanted to portal his beer somewhere difficult to retrieve.
Ronin beamed. “You love me.” He pointed toward the empty space where Martha had previously been. “Besides, that was progress. Weird progress. Slightly traumatizing progress. But still progress.”
“Ronin’s right,” said Iris, her face turning serious.
“You’re still not grasping your portal magic completely.
You need to be able to call it up like you do the ley lines.
” She folded her arms and studied the space in front of me.
“Right now it feels like the portals are deciding where they want to go.”
I nodded. “I know. It’s hard.” I rubbed the back of my neck and stared at the empty air where the portal had been.
“The ley lines make sense. I reach for them, and they’re there.
But this?” I gestured vaguely. “This feels like I’m negotiating with an invisible roommate who refuses to communicate.
I ask for Addison and it gives me Martha in a bathtub.
At this rate I’m going to end up opening one into a bakery, a dentist office, and somebody’s honeymoon before I find the psychotic scientist poisoning my kid. ”
“Try again,” encouraged Iris. “You’ve got this.
You’re a badass witch with new incredible powers.
You can do this.” Her smile was warm, confident, and entirely too optimistic for someone who had just watched me accidentally portal into Martha’s bathtub.
If anything, recent events suggested I should be supervised.
I nodded. “That’s right. Yes. I’m going to figure out how this all works, and I’m going to find Addison.
” The determination settled in my chest like a weight.
Every time I thought about Darian, about what she’d done to him, the uncertainty transformed into anger.
Useful anger. Productive anger. The kind of anger that got things done instead of the kind that had me stress-eating cookies at two in the morning while imagining worst-case scenarios.
Ronin clapped his hands. “Atta girl. Let’s go.” He sat forward on the couch, suddenly invested again. “Find the creepy lab. Save the day. Punch the villain. We have a system. Don’t overthink it.”
I glared at him. “Keep it up, vamp, and I’m going to toss you in the portal next time.” I pointed at him for emphasis. “And knowing my luck, it’ll open in the middle of a volcano.”
Ronin raised his hands in surrender. “Please don’t. I like my body parts exactly where they are.” He paused thoughtfully. “All of them. I’m surprisingly attached to every single one.”
I snorted and called up my magic again, feeling the familiar warmth of the Nexari pooling in me. It responded faster now. Easier. Like it recognized what I was trying to do. Or maybe it was simply amused by my repeated failures and wanted to see what happened next.
I shut all the thoughts from my brain, everything, and focused only on one thing. No Darian. No Martha. No angry mothers. No catastrophic future scenarios. Just the target.
Addison’s face in her lab.
The cold expression. The smug certainty. The way she’d talked about my son like he belonged in a cage instead of a home. My jaw tightened.
The lab. That’s where I needed to go again. Not Martha. Not some random bathroom. Not somebody’s pantry. Not an unsuspecting senior citizen taking a nap.
The lab.
Take me to the lab. I repeated it silently, again and again, like a mantra or a prayer. Like directions given to a particularly stubborn magical GPS that occasionally developed its own opinions.
My magic surged, and pressure filled the room again, making my ears pop. Energy twisted around me, wrapping me in crimson light. My hair brushed around my face. The air thickened. Somewhere behind me I heard Ronin whistle softly.
And just when I was about to crack open a portal, the front door banged open.
Amelia Davenport, my mother, came stomping in.
And clasped tightly in my mother’s grip was my son.
Darian was practically jogging to keep up with her pace while Beverly followed behind, looking entirely too pleased with herself, shopping bags hanging from her arms. Which meant she absolutely started this.
For a moment I thought something had happened, like he’d grown another ten years. My heart attempted to escape through my throat because apparently panic had become my default setting.
But he looked just like the goofy little ten-year-old kid I saw this morning. Same dark hair. Same expression that suggested he had absolutely no idea why his grandmother was marching him across town like a criminal being escorted to trial.
Only this time his clothes fit.
He wore jeans, a blue T-shirt and navy zipper hoodie. He finished the look with black and white sneakers. He looked adorable.
“Tessa Davenport!” howled my dearest mama. “What have you done to my grandson!” Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she planted both feet in the middle of my living room.
Well, sweet magical menopause.