Chapter Nine
Standing in the foyer of his Keep a few days later, Cain sighed at Azazel. “I won’t get her to change her mind, no matter what I say or do. She’s ten times more tenacious than I could ever be.”
Azazel chuckled. “I doubt that. From what I’ve seen, you’re both as stubborn as each other.”
Cain grunted. He hadn’t intended to complain to others about Wynter’s insistence on being part of the upcoming battle. But the other Ancient had sensed that something was bugging him, and Cain had found himself spilling out his concerns.
Azazel slapped his arm in commiseration. “I understand why you’d rather she wasn’t there, but she’ll be an asset.”
“That’s what she said,”
Cain grumbled. His creature still agreed with her on that and fully supported her decision.
“And she’s right. There are more Aeons than there are Ancients. It won’t be easy for us to overpower them. Your consort will give us an edge. We need that.”
“We’ll have an edge.”
Cain gave him a meaningful look, not wanting to say Abaddon’s name aloud. They hadn’t yet revealed to the residents as a whole that another Ancient lived here. There weren’t many people currently nearby and it didn’t seem as if any were attempting to eavesdrop on the conversation, but some creatures had more sensitive hearing than others.
“Only if we manage to do what we’ve so far successfully failed to do,”
Azazel pointed out.
“If we don’t succeed, we’ll need to make some changes to our game plan.”
In other words, they likely wouldn’t damage their prison without Abaddon’s aid and so they wouldn’t be able to storm Aeon. “Wynter doesn’t believe it will come to that.”
“Neither do I. And I stand by what I said before—she’ll be an asset.”
Cain frowned. “You couldn’t have just agreed with me so I could complain?”
Azazel’s mouth kicked up. “Nah, I’m not that good a friend.”
Just then, Maxim hurried through the Keep’s entrance and rushed over to them. “Sire, I have news from Inanna. A conduit is here from Aeon. She has shown him into the blue parlor at the manor. He says that Adam wishes to have a meeting with all seven Ancients.”
“I see,”
said Cain, veiling his surprise. “Thank you. Let Inanna know that we’ll be there shortly, and have someone pass on the message to the other Ancients.”
“Yes, Sire.”
With that, Maxim left.
Cain looked at Azazel. “We’ll take the quick way to the manor.”
Most people weren’t aware of it, but the Ancients had other ways of arriving at the surface that didn’t involve using the communal elevator.
“What do you think Adam wants?”
asked Azazel as they walked down the hallway, heading for Cain’s chamber.
“If he merely wished to speak to me, I’d say he wants to express his fury over Abel’s death,”
replied Cain. “It could be that he’s hoping to strike some sort of deal.”
“And that he believes that the blizzard one of his people caused will spur us into agreeing?”
“Probably.”
The blizzard hadn’t left too much destruction in its wake. If the residents were frightened by the Aeons’ display of power, it hadn’t lasted long, judging by what Maxim had reported a few hours after the incident.
“Once people got over their shock and anger, they started having snowball fights, making snow angels, building skeletal snowmen, and sliding down the hills on makeshift sleds,”
Maxim had told Cain. “They seem disappointed that the snow has already started to melt.”
Although Cain found himself oddly uneasy about bringing another Ancient into the chamber he shared with Wynter, he shook off the feeling and waved Azazel inside.
“Your consort has made many touches to the space,”
Azazel noted as he spotted the witchy items lying around.
“She has,”
said Cain. He always felt a flash of pleasure each time he noticed something new she’d brought from the cottage.
Reaching his tall mirror, he placed his hand on the glass, which swiftly turned to rippling black water. He stepped through the mirror and out of an identical one that was kept in a bedroom at the manor. Azazel joined him, and then they both made their way downstairs. They halted outside the door to the blue parlor to wait for the other Ancients. It wasn’t long before all seven were gathered together.
“I doubt I am the only one who suspects that Adam is about to make us some kind of offer,”
said Ishtar, sounding particularly disinterested.
“That would be my guess,”
said Inanna. “I find it odd that he does not wish to communicate his message through Cain.”
Dantalion nodded, rubbing at his bristly jaw. “Requesting to speak with all of us isn’t Adam’s usual style.”
“True,”
agreed Cain, “but talking with me—or even with both me and Seth—never got him what he wanted. Perhaps he thinks he will have better luck with the rest of you.”
“Perhaps.”
Lilith pursed her lips. “It could be that, in the event that you refuse to agree to his terms, he hopes the rest of us will propose a vote and overrule you.”
“It could be, yes,”
Cain allowed. “Also, knowing Adam, he will take this opportunity to gloat over the success of his plan. I suggest we let him believe that it is going as well as he may anticipate.”
“Why?”
asked Ishtar.
“Because if he believes that our residents are playing his game just as he’d hoped, he won’t feel the need to change that game,”
Cain replied. “Right now, his moves are easy to predict. Let’s not give him a reason to go off-script and take us by surprise.”
“Makes sense,”
said Seth, and the others quickly agreed.
“Let’s begin the meeting, then,”
proposed Azazel.
They filed into the blue parlor. Cain recognized the man sitting on the sofa as the same conduit who’d come here several times before on the Aeons’ behalf. Two of Inanna’s aides stood against the wall, on guard.
“Griff,”
Cain greeted as the slender male stood and rolled his shoulders.
“Adam waits for you alone,”
Griff told him, reaching out his hand, his fingers splayed.
Cain touched his own fingertips to those of Griff’s and, that fast, Cain’s entire surroundings altered as he projected his consciousness to the psychic space that the conduit provided. Everything was white—the walls, the floor, the eight wooden chairs. One of said chairs was occupied by Adam.
Cain’s monster hissed, slamming its unblinking glare on the Aeon it loathed with every inch of its being. It had wanted to shred Adam to pieces for as far back as Cain could remember. Only the fact that Adam had been extremely well-guarded at Aeon had kept the shithead alive all the years Cain resided there.
Cain would have been outnumbered, subdued, and then contained if he had acted on his hatred for this man back then. Subjecting him to pain hadn’t been worth Cain’s freedom, so he’d made no move, promising himself and his creature that they would one day get their vengeance. His cage alone had prevented that.
The creature hadn’t complained when Cain dealt Abel the killing blow, because it was satisfied that Cain would allow the monster the pleasure of obliterating Adam. If there was a way of causing physical harm to anyone in the psychic space, the creature would have killed him already.
Given the recent loss of Abel, Adam’s insides would no doubt be churning with fury. No one would think it to look at him, though. Instead of firing a look of such hatred at Cain that it would snatch a weaker man’s breath from his lungs, Adam did nothing. Said nothing. Merely sat very still, looking perfectly at ease.
After Saul lost his sister in the first recent battle, he’d looked a mess, overcome by grief. But Adam? His dark-green eyes were clear and calm. His stubborn jawline was loose and relaxed. His thick, copper-brown hair was neatly combed.
One thing could be seen in Adam’s eyes. There was an element of smugness there—he believed that all was going according to plan. There was no grief or devastation to be seen.
Then again, Adam wouldn’t be experiencing the gut-wrenching grief that a loving, devoted father would generally feel after losing his son. Abel had mattered to him, but Adam had treated him as more of a protégé and part of his legacy than a son. If he had loved Abel, it hadn’t been with a full heart.
Still, Abel’s death will have affected Adam on several levels. That he was so affected would be something he’d hate, something he’d consider a weakness. He would also despise that Cain—a person who was a living reminder of his ex-consort’s betrayal, a person he had wanted dead since the moment of his birth—had been the one to end Abel’s life.
The other Ancients were quick to enter the psychic space, and soon the seven vacant seats were occupied. Cain sat in the center with Seth and Azazel either side of him. None of the Ancients spoke. They simply stared at the Aeon, all looking varying degrees of bored.
“Tell me,”
began Adam, sweeping his gaze over each of them, “how does it feel to have a divide among your people?”
“A divide?”
echoed Lilith, an edge to her voice that said she hadn’t forgotten how he’d once treated her. Despite that the Aeon had no liking for her kind, he had pursued her relentlessly while also seeming to resent her for her effect on him. Viewing women as the weaker species, he’d genuinely felt that she had no right to object to his advances. He’d acted like a spiteful piece of shit right up until her brother stepped in.
Adam flicked a hand. “Oh, let us not play games. I know the type of beings you welcome to your town. Dark characters. All of them. So dark they would gladly act on generous bounties, even if it meant going against their neighbors and leaders. Such people are far too easily manipulated. Just how many times has the witch almost been brought to me?”
Cain fought a smile as he realized just how much the Aeon had overestimated what success his sneaky move would have. That was Adam all over, though. The man was so arrogant and superior that it often didn’t occur to him that a plan might not pay off.
“What is it that you want?”
Seth asked.
Adam notched up his chin. “I think you all now realize just how serious I am about striking at your town until I get what I want.”
“Even if I had a sliver of an interest in cooperating—which I don’t—I couldn’t possibly give myself up to you and make my way to Aeon,”
said Cain. “You know that perfectly well.”
“Yes, I do,”
said Adam. “But your people do not, do they? And so they will turn on you.”
He paused, his eyes scanning each Ancient but purposefully skipping over Cain. “It is the witch I want. Perhaps Cain has reported all that was said in our previous meetings. Perhaps not. It would not surprise me to learn that he held certain details back.”
Inanna sighed. “If you are only here to make some sad attempt at causing trouble among us, we might as well end this meeting now. None of the Ancients will ever view one of their own as the enemy. Like it or not, you firmly united us when you dumped us here.”
Ishtar nodded. “We will never see you as an ally or trust a word you say. So simply be clear about what it is you want. I do not like to have my time wasted.”
Adam’s jaw hardened. “I have already been clear on what I want. The witch. Wynter Dellavale. Give her to me.”
Cain was expecting Adam’s request. Even so, his gut went tight and his enraged inner creature coiled its muscles in preparation to lunge, however pointless it would be.
Azazel snorted. “Why would we do that?”
“I will continue to wreak havoc on Devil’s Cradle if you do not,”
threatened Adam.
“You will have your people wreak havoc on your behalf, and you will continue to do it either way,”
said Dantalion with an unconcerned shrug.
“Let’s be honest, Adam.”
Lilith crossed one leg over the other. “You are attacking our town and attempting to scare our population because you hope to weaken us. You want the people to run scared or betray us. You want the place to crumble—a fruitless exercise, I might add, since the land is as protected by power as that of Aeon. In short, you are not prepared to take us on right now because you quite simply don’t believe that you can. Did you think we would not see that?”
she scoffed, shaking her head.
A flush stained Adam’s cheeks. “Why are you so certain I want a war? As I have told Cain in the past, there does not need to be one.”
“Don’t bother claiming you would leave us in peace if we cooperated,”
said Cain. “You will seek revenge for Abel’s death—we’re all well aware of that.”
Adam’s eyes briefly glittered with something dark. “Revenge is most certainly what I want. But my beef is not with the Ancients as a whole. It is with you.”
“Again, we’re all well aware of that,”
said Cain.
“Here is my offer,”
said Adam, addressing everyone. “Yes, I will eventually come to Devil’s Cradle if the witch is not brought to me. But I do not have to destroy the place. I do not have to destroy all of you. If you agree to give Cain and the witch to me, I will quite simply take them and leave. The rest of you will be left to live here in peace with your people.”
Seth snarled. “You can shove that offer right up your ass, Father.”
Adam gave him a pitying smile. “Oh, dear boy. You may wish to pose as a Leviathan, you may possess many of their abilities, but you are not one of them. You never truly will be. As such, I am not surprised that you believe the others here would never accept my offer. You have no real concept of how callous, disloyal, and ruthless they can be. Believe me, they are tempted. Do not be shocked if they choose to betray Cain and the witch. And if you wish to live, I would advise you not to take sides.”
Adam “winked”
out of sight.
Cain exchanged a look with the other Ancients and then exited the psychic space. The others did the same. He dismissed the conduit, who was then escorted out of the parlor by Inanna’s aides. Now that only the Ancients filled the room, Cain said, “Well, we were right to assume he’d make an offer.”
Azazel folded his arms. “I don’t think he truly believes that the rest of us would betray you. In fact, he has to be well aware that we would not wish to give you up if for no other reason than we would then be easier for him to take out. I think he merely wishes to cause a strain on our . . . bond, for wont of a better word.”
Dantalion dipped his chin in agreement. “He hopes you will now not trust us, Cain. The Aeons really are fond of the divide-and-conquer trick.”
Seth shrugged. “It’s often successful. But it won’t be this time.”
“Definitely not,”
affirmed Lilith. “His offer changes nothing. We still will not propose that we surrender Wynter to him.”
Ishtar nodded. “It will gain us nothing.”
Everyone looked at her, eyes narrowed in suspicion.
She frowned. “What? I have no liking whatsoever for the witch. Never will. But she is what Adam most wants, and he wants her alive. The moment he has her, he will no doubt seek to destroy the entire town and everyone in it—including us—to avenge Abel. I am not afraid to die. But I have no interest whatsoever in granting Adam’s wish before I do. Now if you will excuse me . . .”
She strode out of the parlor.
Lilith’s brows shot up. “Well, that was a surprise.”
“Ishtar made perfect sense,”
said Azazel. “But I can’t trust a single word she just spoke.”
Neither could Cain, because . . . “She has never been rational where Wynter is concerned. I don’t see why that would suddenly change.”
Inanna sidled up to him. “Your punishment had more of an impact on my sister than you know. Ishtar needs to own pretty things to feel pretty. Adorning herself with beautiful things such as clothes and jewelry was always about more than just style. Plus, each gift she is given feeds her sense of self-validation. She may not appreciate those gifts, but she loves what they represent—that another person might adore her, even if it is only her beauty that draws them.
“I do not judge you for what you did, but she does. You destroyed all her pretty things, Cain. You destroyed all her gifts and collectibles. You left her with nothing. You made her feel nothing for a short time. She was devastated. And she was also forced to accept that she is not as important to you as she had believed. So while she does—and will likely always—resent and loathe your consort, Ishtar will not be eager to cross you again.”
Cain would love to believe that, but he wasn’t sure he could.
“Oh, give it a few centuries and she will most likely be back to pushing your buttons and taking foolish chances,”
Inanna admitted. “But for now, she is no threat to your consort simply because it would mean she was also a threat to herself. Ishtar will always put her own wellbeing first.”
She then followed her sister out of the room.
Dantalion hummed. “Inanna does make a good point.”
“I hope she’s right in her assumption,”
said Seth.
“As do I,”
said Cain. “I would not enjoy killing one of us. But I would if I had to.”
Azazel looked at him. “And if it was because that someone was a danger to your consort, the rest of us would not blame you.”
*
Anabel dipped her face in her small brown paper bag, breathed deep through her nose, and then sighed happily. “I love the smell of chocolate brownies.”
Wynter was more interested in the warm bag of mini sugar-dusted doughnuts she’d bought. She was a sucker for carbs. She intended to devour her bag of treats as soon as she returned to the cottage.
“These little frames would be perfect for you, Wyn.”
Delilah scooped up several small silverplated frames from the market table.
“They would?”
asked Wynter, adjusting her grip on the slippery handles of the plastic bags she was carrying. “I’m not really seeing how.”
Oh sure, the frames were pretty and all, but she didn’t have any pictures.
“You could put the little drawings you did of your deceased relatives and Rafe inside them,”
said Delilah. “Then you might feel that they’re more than just doodles. And they’d look great on your ancestor altar.”
Huh. Wynter hadn’t thought of that. It was a very sweet idea. “You’re all warm and squishy inside, Del.”
The Latina frowned, offended. “I can’t believe you’d say that to me.”
Snorting, Wynter peeked up at the handwritten price guides on the sign. Reasonable. She paid for the frames and slipped them into one of her bags.
Many tables and booths were lined up on the grassy field of the underground park. A market was held here at least once a month, mostly selling local seasonal produce. This particular market was Halloween-themed as part of the October celebrations, hence the balloons, flags, and garlands that were only available in the colors of orange, black, and green.
There were plenty of foods for sale, such as fruit, vegetables, jams, and jellies. But there were also Halloween treats and decorations, as well as costumes, masks, and props like bloody knives.
Lots of haggling went on. Vendors weren’t shy about calling out to people, hoping to lure them closer. Some people had settled on hay bales, benches, or picnic tables to munch on food they’d purchased.
Someone had dragged the piano out of the town hall and set it near the doors. Beneath all the music, chatter, and laughter were the sounds of water boiling, meat sizzling, and the flapping of tablecloths courtesy of the artificial breeze.
So many scents laced the air—flowers, fruits, herbs, meats, soaps, lotions, and food cooking. Wynter drank them all in.
“Are you planning to move your ancestor altar to Cain’s Keep?”
asked Delilah.
Wynter felt her nose wrinkle. “No, I don’t want to disturb it.”
“That’s probably the wisest decision,”
said Hattie, fingering a scarf. “It’s important to be careful with such things.”
“Ooh, I want that,”
proclaimed Anabel, pointing at . . . nothing.
“What?”
asked Xavier, nibbling on one of the fresh doughy cookies he’d bought.
“That,”
said Anabel, wiggling the finger she was still pointing. “The electronic clapping witch.”
He sighed at her. “You’re hallucinating again.”
Her shoulders slumped, and her arm dropped to her side. “Ugh.”
“You have no one to blame but yourself,”
said Delilah primly.
Anabel bristled. “I never implied differently.”
Maybe there would in fact come a day when the blonde actually stopped experimenting on herself, but Wynter wasn’t all that hopeful. She’d chewed a chunk out of Anabel’s ass as usual, and the blonde had apologized just as she normally did. And though the apology had been genuine, it had to be remembered that her apologies were always genuine. She always regretted her mistake. She simply couldn’t help later repeating it.
Delilah coaxed them over to a table that sold handmade jewelry, her face lighting up at all the pretty, shiny things. Classic cat. Okay, so she only had the ability to shift into a cat, but she did nonetheless have some feline qualities.
Xavier was more interested in the woman behind the table. “Well, hello there, lass,”
he greeted in a Scottish accent. “A pretty wee thing, so ye are. My name’s Angus.”
Oh, dear Lord.
The woman’s lips curved. “Milly. And I’m quite sure your real name is actually Xavier.”
Ha, good for her.
“Or it’s Angus,”
he said, his accent still Scottish, “and I like telling others it’s Xavier.”
Wynter only shook her head. He was hopeless. Utterly. Yet the lying little shit also possessed enough charisma to lure women to him anyway.
Once Delilah had bought a few dangly bracelets, they walked off.
Xavier’s grin was all smugness. “Milly agreed to go on a date with me.”
Wynter patted his back. “Good for you, Angus.”
His grin widened. “Awesome name, right?”
“Absolutely. But it’s not yours.”
A line dented his brow. “So?”
“So when you introduce yourself as someone else to a woman you like, you’re starting a relationship that’s based on bullshit. That’s not a good thing.”
He sighed. “Why, why, why have you always gotta focus on logic?”
“Well, one of our coven has to, or we’ll eventually get thrown out of Devil’s Cradle.”
Did they not get that?
Anabel bit her lower lip. “You do make a valid point.”
“But again with the logic,”
Xavier complained.
Wynter rolled her eyes.
They went from table to table. Anabel topped up her collection of beeswax products while Hattie bought some jars of honey—all in various flavors.
Anabel smiled as the pianist began playing “Somebody’s Watching Me”. “I like this tune.”
Delilah tossed her a look. “I’m not surprised. The lyrics speak to the paranoid.”
The blonde’s brows drew together. “I’m not paranoid.”
Delilah snorted. “Hmm, sure.”
“I’m not.”
She totally was, but Wynter was not interested in getting into that. “No arguments, please, we’re supposed to be enjoying some quality coven time.”
“Ooh,”
began Hattie, pointing to a particular booth. “I need more rolling paper for my morning joints.”
She paused, humming. “And some deadly nightshade seeds.”
Wynter froze, as did the others. “Why?”
she asked warily.
Hattie cackled. “I’m just messing with you.”
“That wasn’t funny, Empress of Poison,”
said Xavier. “I worried you’d decided to kill poor George.”
“Never,”
said Hattie as she grabbed some packets of bundled up herbs from a wicker basket. “The man is sweet as pie.”
“Wow, that dude over there by the pond is good,”
said Anabel. “I can’t even juggle balls, let alone knives. I mean . . . wow.”
Sighing, Xavier scratched at his temple. “There is no juggler.”
Anabel stamped her foot. “Dammit.”
She rubbed at her neck. “I have to get out of here. I can’t tell what’s real and what’s fantasy anymore. The lines are too blurred. Oh God, I can’t catch my breath.”
Delilah nudged her. “Tone it down, diva.”
Anabel’s hands fisted. “I am not a—”
“Hello, Wynter,”
greeted none other than Eve, smiling brightly.
Well, gah. Hey, Wynter’s sort-of-mother-in-law was seemingly a nice woman, but they didn’t know each other well enough for Wynter to be comfortable with just bumping into her in public without Cain at her side. And, if Wynter was truly honest, a part of her struggled to warm to the woman, unable to help but resent Eve for how thoroughly she’d let him down even as Wynter understood how that had come to be. She didn’t judge Eve, she just hated how it had impacted Cain.
Noah and Rima stood behind their grandmother. He gave Wynter a nod while Rima just glared at her. So pleasant.
Wynter forced her lips to curve. “Hi, it’s nice to see you all.”
“Thank you,”
said Eve. “This must be your coven.”
“Yes.”
Wynter introduced each of them to Eve and the twins before then introducing the Aeons to her coven in return. They all exchanged greetings, though Rima’s were pretty stiff.
“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you all,”
Eve told the coven. “Wynter has spoken of you many times.”
Wynter held her breath, half-expecting them to say crazy shit or relay embarrassing stories about her. But they merely smiled, polite and calm. Which was weird but a relief.
“Is Cain not with you?”
Noah asked, glancing around.
“He and the Ancients have a meeting.”
More specifically, they were making another attempt to wake Abaddon, but that wasn’t something Wynter could mention in public.
“Shame,”
said Eve. “I would have liked to see him.”
Noah’s nose wrinkled. “I can’t imagine him doing something as mundane as peruse a market. He would surely look out of place.”
Nah, Cain had a way of fitting into whatever environment he placed himself in; of always seeming as though he belonged. But she understood Noah’s meaning—the Ancients just seemed so set apart from “normality”.
“He would probably also be bored.”
Noah sighed. “I can relate.”
Eve tossed him an exasperated look that was tinged with affection. She then refocused on Wynter. “I’ll let you continue shopping. You all take care now.”
She and Noah walked away, but Rima lingered. Wasn’t that nice?
Rima looked Wynter up and down. “I heard about what you did to the witches who tried to kidnap you. A little harsh, wasn’t it?”
Wynter blinked. “That was kind of the point.”
“You could have simply dumped their bodies in a public place and then walked away,”
said Rima.
“What, like Aeons dump people over the falls?”
Wynter cocked her head. “You know what your problem is? You think that your emotional scars give you a free pass to be bitchy—something you’re not very good at, on another note; you just come across as petty and childish. Anyway, you really need to snap out of this mindset. You’re not the only one who’s suffered. Losing your mom is hard, I know. But your mom died peacefully in her sleep. We don’t all have that comfort. And we don’t all make others pay for our pain.”
Rima’s cheeks reddened. “I don’t need a lecture from someone who’s only lived, what, thirty years? Probably less. You’re a kid compared to me.”
Wynter almost laughed. “Oh, you might have walked this Earth a lot longer. But you haven’t lived the same way I have. You’ve never fought in a war. You’ve never lost your life over and over. You’ve never led people into battle, hoping like hell it won’t get them killed. You’ve never hosted a monster that doesn’t belong in this world.
“Your experiences, the loss of your mom . . . you didn’t let those things strengthen you, you just stewed over them. So it doesn’t matter how much longer you’ve lived, I’m still far more mature than you. But you could change that if you only took my advice. I guess we’ll see if you bother or not.”
Before the Aeon could say another word, Wynter strode off.
Delilah sidled up to her. “You’re totally right about Rima. She’s like a na?ve, defiant teenager.”
Wynter exhaled heavily. “I really don’t want to have a bad relationship with any of Cain’s relatives, but she makes it hard to like her. She feels the need to be rude toward and question everyone. There’s so much bitterness inside her, and she lets it rule her.”
Wynter swore. “Damn her, I was having fun until then.”
Delilah patted her shoulder. “The fun doesn’t need to stop. All is good. Things can go back to being light-hearted.”
They all halted as a male bore down on them, his eyes flaring with anger—eyes that were pinned on Delilah.
“I’ve been looking for you everywhere,”
he growled. “What in God’s name did you put in that potion?”
Wynter felt her eyes drift closed. “Oh, Del.”
Delilah folded her arms. “You’ll have to clue me in on what potion you asked for. I get a lot of customers.”
He glanced from side to side, leaned in, and lowered his voice as he said, “I wanted something that would make my boyfriend lose a few pounds.”
“Oh, I remember now,”
said Delilah. “You felt that he’d ‘let himself go,’ and you didn’t like it.”
“Obviously,”
he said with a snicker. “You told me that all I had to do was put a drop of the potion in my mouth and then kiss him. Well, he hasn’t lost any weight. And I . . .”
He let the sentence trail off.
She made a prim noise. “I warned you there might be side effects.”
His jaw clenched. “You didn’t mention I could grow a curly tail on the base of my spine.”
“What, like a pig?”
Delilah hummed. “Interesting, since you sort of are one. You know, you’re growing some pink hairs on that chinny chin—”
“What?”
“Del,”
Wynter quickly cut in, “take him back to the cottage and give him a reversal potion.”
“I’m not taking anything else from her,”
he stated.
Delilah grinned. “That’s fine. I think tails are cute. Pink chin hairs? Not so much. But hey, I’m sure your boyfriend will accept you exactly as you are. And I’m sure he won’t ask any questions about how exactly you came to have—”
“Reversal potion it is,”
he ground out.
Wynter waved a hand toward the cottage. “Go.”
Watching the two walk off, she rubbed at her nape.
“She’s never going to listen to you, you know,”
said Anabel. “She’s going to keep ignoring your warnings and doing what she wants.”
The blonde shook her head sadly. “Really, she’s her own worst enemy.”
Hattie leaned toward Wynter. “Anabel’s lack of self-awareness is worrying.”
Well, Wynter could say the same regarding the old woman, so . . .
Anabel turned to Xavier, and her eyes went wide. “Ooh, spider, spider, spider!”
Wynter looked and Jesus Christ it was big.
Xavier peeked down at the insect on his shoulder but then frowned. “What spider?”
Anabel jabbed her finger toward it and then stilled. “Wait, I’m seeing things again?”
“Seems like it,” he said.
She gingerly reached toward the moving spider, which promptly crawled onto her hand. “Wow, I swear I can feel little spider feet pattering over my skin. It’s amazing how the imagination just fills in this stuff to make it more realistic for the hallucinator, right?”
She smiled at Wynter, who pulled a face.
Realization dawned on Anabel. An almighty squeal erupted from her as she frantically shook her hand to throw off the insect. “Xavier, I am gonna fry you!”
The idiot doubled over with laughter.