Chapter 10. Caitlyn #2
A small, insidious brain worm wriggled free, and my stomach hollowed out all over again.
“And... non-mutual romantic feelings?”
Color flooded Blaise’s cheeks, spilling down his neck, but he didn’t answer.
“You don’t have to tell me,” I rushed on. “It’s not my business. I just—” My hands waved uselessly between us. “I don’t expect you not to have had a life before... this. And I don’t expect you to stay if... if you don’t want to...”
The words trailed off, dying pathetically on my tongue as my heart rebelled, threatening to split in two at the mere suggestion of him leaving.
“It’s not that I don’t want to tell you,” Blaise said gently. “I just need to work a few things out for myself before I’m ready to share fully. But... there was someone I thought—or rather hoped—might turn romantic, once.”
My heart cracked at the confession, shame pooling in my stomach. There was someone else. Someone he might have imagined a future with.
“But the feelings weren’t mutual,” he finished, lifting one shoulder in a dismissive shrug. “It doesn’t really matter now.” He hesitated, then added softly, “What I can promise you is that I’ve spent most of the past nine years eagerly waiting for you to summon me.”
“You have?” I asked, my voice coming out quieter than I’d intended.
Blaise nodded, a small smile curving his lips.
“I like to go against the grain too, Caitlyn. I didn’t want to stay in the shadows like the other incubi.
I wanted to have made something of myself by the time you summoned me.
To have some worldly knowledge. To have a job and know how to cook and do taxes for you.
So, I started off picking up shifts as a bouncer for a while.
Then Ambrose and I decided to start our own security firm. ”
“Ambrose?” I asked. “Is he another incubus?”
Blaise’s eyes widened, as if he’d only just realized he’d said something he shouldn’t have. After a moment, he nodded warily.
I shouldn’t have pushed. It was an unspoken rule that summoned incubi didn’t give much away about those left behind in the Shadow Realm. And with only Jen left from my age of witches, Ambrose must be the only one left from Blaise’s clan from that year. They had to be fated for each other.
Still, like the greedy little gossip goblin I was, I couldn’t help myself.
“Is he kind?” I asked. “Ambrose, I mean.”
Blaise’s nostrils flared as he drew in a sharp breath. He nodded on the exhale, and when he spoke, his voice was soft. “He’s very kind,” he said, a sad smile tugging at his lips. “And incredibly patient.”
I nodded. “Good,” I said. “Jen needs someone kind and patient.”
“Who’s Jen?” Blaise asked. His voice had gone oddly small, like he already suspected the answer.
“Jen’s my cousin. She’s the last witch of our Samhain cycle who hasn’t summoned anyone yet. She’s been in mortal prison for almost a decade—she’s innocent, though,” I added quickly as his lips tightened. “And she should be released soon and—” I hesitated as his brows furrowed. “What’s wrong?”
“Are you sure she’s the only one left who hasn’t done the summoning?” Blaise asked.
“That was born in my Samhain cycle? Yeah,” I said slowly, my confusion deepening.
“Jen, Lex, and me were the last ones. And Lex accidentally summoned Lochran—” Blaise’s brow arched at the word accidentally.
“Meddling sentient house,” I said. “It was a bit of a rocky start, but they’re incredibly happy together. ”
“Good to hear,” Blaise said. Then, after a beat, “But there’s really only you and Jen left? No one else?”
“Well,” I said, tapping a finger against my chin, “there is Priscilla. But she doesn’t count.”
“Priscilla?” Blaise repeated. “Why doesn’t she count?”
My lips pressed together. How exactly did one explain how awful Priscilla Raisin was without Creep going berserk?
“So,” I said carefully, “Priscilla is kind of the reason I hired you in the first place.”
Blaise’s head tilted with curiosity.
“Okay,” I said, drawing out the word, “the short version is that Priscilla and I don’t see eye to eye. She’s not really part of the coven... I mean, she is, but she’s not.”
Blaise squeezed his eyes shut, like I’d just handed him a riddle to solve. “I think I might need the long version.”
“So,” I said, “do you know how coven magic works?”
Blaise shook his head.
“Okay. Every witch and warlock has their own magic, right? And there are loads of different branches under the witch umbrella—necromancers, hags, alchemists, et cetera. Most covens are made up of practitioners with the same kind of magic. It helps solidify the coven’s specialty.”
He nodded along.
“I’m guessing you’ve heard of the Pennyroyal Coven?”
“Been a loyal customer for the past nine years,” Blaise said easily.
“So you know they’re all alchemists who specialize in a very particular contraceptive potion. They can brew other things, of course, but that one comes easiest to them—as if their magic naturally leans toward it.”
I paused, then shrugged. “Our coven isn’t like that.
We’re made up of witches who narrowly escaped the witch hunts in Europe centuries ago—survivors whose original covens were destroyed.
They were a bit of a ragtag group with no shared specialty, just a hell of a lot of determination to stay alive. ”
Blaise leaned in slightly, his interest unmistakable.
“That shared history—survival, protection, stubbornness—that’s what binds us.
That’s what fuels our coven magic, even though we all practice different branches.
You can think of coven magic a bit like a hive mind,” I said.
“It binds witches and warlocks together and melds a bit of their magic with everyone else. That’s why the bargain the then head of the coven made with your clan of incubi for the Samhain summoning still echoes down the bloodlines.
And it’s why, when one of the founding witches had a magical bond with a sentient house, that trait carried forward, and now we all get a sentient magic house.
” Under my breath I muttered, “Whether we want it or not...”
Blaise rested a finger against his chin, considering. “Okay,” he said slowly. “So, what does all of that have to do with this Priscilla you mentioned? Is she not part of your coven, then?”
“Well, our coven has always been known for being a mixed group. And occasionally, we’d get a nomad witch asking to join.
The last time it happened was almost thirty years ago.
A heavily pregnant witch who more or less demanded to be taken in.
She was... not a nice person,” I added, unable to keep the distaste from my voice.
“But Lily Cole—our head of coven—didn’t have the heart to turn her away.
Not with a baby on the way. So she stayed and she had her baby, Priscilla. ”
Blaise was listening intently now.
“But Priscilla’s mom—and later Priscilla herself—never really melded with the coven’s magic,” I continued.
“They could live with us, sure, but the magic never accepted them. It never gave them even a drop of the coven’s shared magic.
So they never bonded with a sentient house, and they were never granted a fated incubus mate. ”
I hesitated, then added, “They were very much out for themselves. Especially Priscilla’s mom. She wanted what the coven wouldn’t give her. She tried to seduce mated incubi. Tried to steal sentient houses. Eventually, she crossed enough lines that she was exiled.”
Blaise grimaced. “And Priscilla?”
“The thing is,” I said, lowering my voice—hoping Creep, president of the Priscilla Raisin fan club, was too busy evicting spiders to eavesdrop—“the apple didn’t fall far from the tree.”
His gaze stayed fixed on mine.
“Priscilla was a bully at school. Not the petty, mean-girl kind, but the sort who’d decapitate your favorite toy if you didn’t hand it over.
The kind who believed the world owed her everything.
She’s just as covetous as her mother. And lately.
.. she’s had her sights set on my business.
” I hesitated, then finished quietly, “And my house.”
Blaise’s expression darkened. “She’s trying to steal Creep from you?”
“I guess Priscilla sees it as an easy meal ticket,” I said.
“Steal my recipes, make money off someone else’s life’s work.
Live in my house that for some reason loves her.
She’s been relentless. And I figured that for this final stretch, I wasn’t taking any chances.
That’s why I’ve temporarily moved away from the coven—and why I hired you, just in case she managed to find me.
” I huffed softly. “Which, given Creep’s inexplicable fondness for her, wouldn’t surprise me in the slightest. I half expect Creep to have left a breadcrumb trail of spiders and knives for Priscilla to follow all the way here. ”
Blaise leaned back, one finger crooked thoughtfully against his chin. “She doesn’t sound particularly pleasant.” He chewed his bottom lip, then glanced back at me. “Are you absolutely certain she’s never been accepted into the coven’s magic?”
My lips pressed together. Why was he pushing this?
A little coolly, I replied, “She definitely hasn’t. Why?”
Blaise hesitated, worrying his lip again before finally saying, “Well... Ambrose isn’t the only unmated incubus our age. There’s Devlin, too.”