Maddox
Ican hear her.
It doesn’t matter that there are two bedrooms between us. Elsbeth is awake.
Normally, being surrounded by preserved wood, iron, and stone doesn’t cross my mind.
It’s part of life. Using the products nurtured, harvested, and manipulated into walls, floors, and fixtures is human.
The death of nature to sustain our comfort is as old as time, but tonight every creak of treated oak against joints and the squeak of nails shifting underfoot set my teeth on edge.
Asher and I lay down hours ago. And for too few of those hours, I was given reprieve.
But she’s awake again. The bones of the old house are fortified by the magic we—and every legacy before us—have breathed into it.
And yet, I can’t get my nervous system to remember that.
There’s new magic here and it’s woken something ancient.
I don’t know why Thorne, Asher, and Fox don’t feel it the way that I do, but Elsbeth is her own strain of power that we haven’t come up against before.
A council meeting or deep dive into the family archives won’t be the solution this time.
I roll from my back to face Asher. His chest is rising slowly and steadily, and I’ve never been more jealous of him.
Though, the envy stops at his ability to block out the threat we’ve brought onto ourselves and sleep soundly.
The gift of strength, endurance, and fortitude makes him the one the rest of us run to when we need protection or comfort.
But which one of us will he be able to feel safe with when he finally sees that Elsbeth is going to be our undoing?
“I can feel you watching me,” he mumbles, eyes still closed. He heaves out a loud, sleepy sigh. “What’s wrong?”
“Can’t sleep,” I whisper, not wanting to pull him further from the nightly abyss, but it’s too late.
He stretches his arms above his head then rolls toward me and props his head up on his fist and elbow. Looking at me through half lids, he waits for an explanation.
“I can . . . hear her.”
His brow perks up at that, then he glances over his shoulder to his bedroom door. “Is she trying to get out or something?”
“No,” I answer, pushing off the mattress to sit up fully. “The house is just really quiet tonight. Or maybe I’m too raw to the fact that she’s here.”
“It’s only for a little while. We’ll get the info we need then turn her over to the council. Whatever her deal is, it’ll be their problem to figure out what to do with her. If I had to guess, I think they’ll charge her with stalking and have her sent back to whatever coven she came from.”
He still thinks she’s a spy, but no idea for who.
If it weren’t for the fact that she doesn’t seem to have an outstanding ability, I would let him believe that.
But she’s untrained, raw, and filled with hatred for what we are.
The other covens have no reason to hate us, even if we are more powerful than they are.
Being one of the oldest covens in the three nations gives us the status, and our link to our ancestors brings us a higher yield during harvest rituals.
That aside, we have good, sustainable relationships with the other magical communities in the States.
“Fox thinks she’s connected to someone close,” I remind him.
He lies on his back, tucking an arm under his head.
“We won’t know until she tells us. And that won’t be tonight, so you should get some sleep.” “Do you think it’s all in my head?”
He knows what I’m asking. I look at everything but him.
The quilted blanket his mother made him for his birthday last year.
A box of matches on his side table next to a white candle.
A bundle of dried herbs he used to cleanse his room.
I even attempt to strain my ears to hear if Elsbeth is still moving around in her room, but I can only feel Asher’s growing concern.
“I can call your therapist in the morning if—”
“I already sent her a text. She’s going to see me on Tuesday.” I knew it was coming. Years of treatment have taught me the signs to look for when an emergency session is due. But I still can’t shake the feeling that, for once, it’s not my mental health faltering.
“Proud of you, man.” He gives me a smile and warmth blooms in my chest.
When the four of us moved into the house, it only took a few months for my PPD to almost ruin my life after going unchecked for years after my father finally beat me into the son he always wanted.
A legacy he could be proud to call his heir.
Fox had been ready. His grandfather is a doctor with connections to the psychiatric department at the hospital.
Because I was far too dangerous to be admitted, my therapist performed treatments at the manor, with Asher as a personal bodyguard and Thorne close by for backup.
I sink back down next to him and stare up at the ceiling.
“For what it’s worth, I don’t think it’s all in your head.”
“Then why aren’t you treating that woman like a ticking bomb?” I say a little too loudly, but I don’t turn to look at him, though I can feel his eyes on the side of my face.
“If we can’t handle one woman, then our entire lives have been a waste,” he says matter-of-factly. “We’ve been training to defend the coven since we could walk, and if this is the test we’ve been preparing for, we better win.”
“I don’t think it’s about winning.”
He’s silent for a long moment, and I think he’s fallen back asleep until he says, “Then we’ll learn a bigger lesson than any other. But we will come out of this stronger together.”
He roughs the hair that’s fallen over my face with one hand, then grips my chin gently to lift my gaze up toward his. I can’t see him through the haze of darkness, but I don’t need to. I feel him as easily as I do Elsbeth in the other room.
“I’ve got you, Mads.”
My throat tightens at that, but the vice around my chest loosens just a little.
We fall into silence again, and I stare up at the cracks in the plaster over our heads.
They start at the chandelier in the center and splinter off in all directions.
Counting my breaths and emptying my thoughts, I follow each line as they lead out to an abrupt stop then retrace them to the brass fixture.
I’m not sure if it’s real or my mind is playing tricks on me, but I hear Elsbeth once again—restlessly pacing the floor in the other room.
With every step, I can feel my heart rate rising.
The strain of silence against plaster walls starts to make my spine itch.
The stillness of the trees outside and my blood pumping through my veins tease at my magic.
Goose bumps prick up my arms like my skin is the only barrier separating this newfound energy surging through the air.
Does Asher feel it too? Or is his resolve more potent than my own?
I glance over to see his eyes shut and his breathing steady. Focusing all my concentration, I let loose a small tendril of magic to reach for his. A soft prod to remind myself that I am not alone, even if I’m the only one battling invisible demons.
What I don’t expect to feel is the tang of sour reality threading through the earth and vegetation that my magic is always wrapped in. I can’t put a name to the cold and pungent layer of ozone that filters through me, but it turns my stomach.
The foreign bit of magic is a patchwork of sensations.
Like it’s not all its own and carries notes of Fox and Thorne as well.
Smoke and rain cloud my vision the harder I try to push past them to get to the lowest level, prodding it to reveal itself to me.
But as soon as the layers start to peel away, it vanishes.
She retreats. Whether out of fear, weakness, or self-preservation, the energy is gone and I’m left with a desolate cavern in my gut.
Asher stirs at my side but doesn’t wake fully.
His hand between us moves over the blankets and settles on mine.
But it’s not enough contact. I move into his side and he turns to face me, scooping me into his chest with his muscular bicep.
Our bodies embrace the way we’ve always done.
The four of us have never shied away from physical intimacy with one another.
But tonight, knowing Asher is close and that he, too, needs comfort is more important than ever.
His body relaxes and envelopes mine, driving my concerns far enough away that I sink into the void of sleep.